#that shit has to be like nine inches i swear

[mayearies]

dont read the tags thanks

[amourrs]

so there’s this absolutely filthy thought that’s stuck in my head of miguel with standing missionary… oh to be fucked in the air like a doll… what can i say i love my men big n strong.

thanks for your request lovey!! — one where you and your boyfriend have a quickie in a public bathroom (established relationship, smut 18+, 0.8k)

Your back is pressed to the wall, hands scraping for purchase against it and coming up empty as your legs squeeze firmly around your boyfriend’s thighs. This is kind of disgusting, you think fleetingly, your head turning towards the closed toilet half a foot to your right. You quickly decide not to care about hygiene, though, not with six feet and nine inches of muscle and sex appeal hard and willing in front of you.

“Cariño,” Miguel pants into your mouth, hands coming up to circle your waist. You’re forced to turn back to him as your eyes begin to flutter closed. “Nuh uh- eyes open, honey. Gotta keep your attention on me or I’m gonna get jealous of a toilet and we can’t give Morales that kind of ammunition against me, not when he caught me stroking that cat last week.”

Your eyes snap open at once. “That cat has a name, Miguel, and it’s Monty—” A gasp cuts you off and it takes you a second to realise that it came from your own throat. Miguel’s hips snap into yours a second time as a smug smile saunters across his lips, twisting them into a condescending expression.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t give a fuck what the cat was called, sweetheart. How could I when I have you right here? Fuck, you’re dripping for me, angel, gonna feel so good when you cum around my cock,” he groans, hands sliding down to cup your thighs as he massages them in his grip. Heat rises to your face and you promptly bury yourself in his neck, peppering kisses to the junction where it meets his jawline as he chuckles at you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, corazón. Actin’ like this wasn’t your idea in the first place,” Miguel teases, his voice cracking slightly as his cock drags against your velvety walls and you let out a broken moan.

“Shut up,” you whine, head still firmly planted against your boyfriend’s hot skin. “Didn’t— fuck— ask, did I?”

Something about the pettiness of your statement is far harder to take seriously when Miguel has your legs shaking around him and so he decides to let it slide, opting to laugh at you rather than torturing you further. “Okay, okay, mi— shit, squeezin’ me so tight. You close, honey? Gonna cum for me? God, please cum for me, you look so pretty when you do—” It’s not long before the huge man’s babbling has your head tilting back to hit the wall of the stall as your cunt clenches around him, your orgasm washing over you as Miguel’s thumb comes up to brush against your clit. You jolt slightly at the stimulation, whining at the slight pain that’s beginning to creep in as Miguel’s thrusts speed up. He’s pounding into you with no reprieve now, arm up above you as he clutches at the top of the stall’s wall to steady himself. “I know, mi vida, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so close, I swear— fuck— taking me so well, cariño, I’m gonna— shit”, he swears, pulling out at the last moment so that he can paint your thigh with his release. It’s so hot when his head slides back to moan as he cums and you have to resist the urge to bite him, instead deciding to whine as you turn on shaky legs to sit on top of the closed lid of the toilet. Miguel turns to you a second later, pulling toilet roll out of the dispenser to his left as he leans over and begins to clean himself off of the soft skin of your thigh, leaving a sweet kiss behind on the spot as he does so.

“So,” he starts as soon as you’re both fully dressed again, your breath finally beginning to return to your lungs. He’s bending down to retie your shoelace for you as he squares his shoulders and looks up into your eyes, an expression of pure, unadulterated (and rather sappy) love evident on his face. “I have a really important question to ask you, and it’s been on my mind for so long—”

You roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “Miguel O’Hara, I swear to God. If you dare propose to me in a public bathroom—”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in mock surprise and he rises to his feet. “Propose? To you? In a bathroom?! Mi vida, what are you on about? Clearly I was about to ask if you wanted falafel or sushi for dinner,” he rebukes, barely holding in a peal of laughter as it shakes his broadened shoulders.

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. Obviously I want sushi.”

Miguel grins at your irritated expression before leaning down to smear an affectionate kiss across your forehead. “Sushi it is then, cariño.”

[bloodwrittenballad]

The King | Pornstar!Steve Harrington x Porn!StarReader

Summary: Steve Harrington was The King

*Kinda Inspired by Stargirl Interlude by The Weeknd*

Warnings: SMUT, oral, crying during sex, afab!reader, both Steve and Reader are bisexual, creampie, spanking, Pornstar!Steve has tattoos, Dom!Steve, Sub!Reader, swearing, praise, dirty talk. DO NOT interact if you are a MINOR. 18+ ONLY.

And here we have it, folks, my most (un)holy creation yet… pornstar!steve. I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin proud of this fic, I think it’s one of my favorites and I hope it’s one of yours too. Who knows, maybe Pornstar!Steve will become a recurring character?

The heat of the lights were nothing compared to the heat in between your legs, the dripping of your cunt leaking all over the kitchen counter top. Your costar, Steve, one of the industry’s most profound actors, sat between your legs. His tongue reaching and exploring places no one has ever been able to before.

Your nails scratched against the counter, looking for something, anything, to hold you to the earth while he sent you to cloud nine. Back arched like a cat, you moaned and whined passionately, his groans of pure pleasure hitting deep inside of your throbbing core.

“Fuck,” you cried and instinctively squeezed your thighs around his head. He hummed a laugh at how needy you were, the way your already soaking wet cunt was dripping, in a way he has never seen before.

“That feel good, baby?” Steve asked, his golden brown eyes blown away with lust, a cheeky glint held inside them. He fucking knew you felt good, after all, Steve Harrington was The King. Men and women all throughout the industry had nothing but the upmost praise for him, for his glorious and delicious mouth.

“I’m gonna come,” you said in a high pitched whine. Stars danced in your eyes, or maybe that was the studio lighting, either way you were about to burst. Each lick, suck, flick of his hot and rough tongue on your clit brought you closer to your desperate release

Steve’s smile could be felt between your thighs, as he worked you up and beyond that glorious threshold of pleasure. “Then come, baby. Come on my tongue,”

It hit you like a tidal wave, literally. A splash of wet, intoxicating cum sprayed Steve’s face, his tongue still at a relentless pace as he worked you through your world shifting orgasm. “Holy shit,” he swore.

His swollen lips finally pulled away from your aching core, a rush of cold air hitting in between your thighs once he fully stood up and towered over you. His tall, naked glory in front of you, looking like a fucking God

Steve’s toned chest was covered in a layer of dark hair, which was one of his most critically acclaimed physical features. He kept every inch of hair, wether it was from the top of his head or… lower, very neat.

The sight of his v-line, with the happy trail and all, made your mouth water. His hard cock, which was red at the tip and oozing with precum, had you all but writhing upon the cool slab of stone countertop.

Steve watched with heavy eyes, noticing the hungry look you had on your face, mouth open and panting. Your tongue darted out and swiped over your lower lip, the drippy pink smudging your sparkly lipgloss.

He leaned forward in a rush, capturing your mouth on his, his own tongue diving deep inside of you once more. Your eyes widened, you could taste yourself on his lips, tangy but also sweet. That’s not what caught you off guard, however. You’ve tasted yourself before on many other people, but it was mostly because they’d stuff their fingers in your mouth and throat.

You were known to not be much of a kisser, your mouth usually being used for “better” things, but Steve’s bold and rather unscripted kiss had you sweltering in heat. A rush of wet hitting your thighs, this was one of the best you’ve ever had. Or, he was.

The prop countertop became to slippery you almost flew forward, yelping into his mouth, but his big and hard body kept you upright. One hand on your upper back for support, the other was right above your ass.

He squeezed, making you moan, breaking away from the impromptu make out session. Your lips were so puffy, your eyes blown wide as you looked up at him and said, “I need your cock.” Dragged out in a whine.

Steve huffed out his own needy, aching, whine. But he covered it with a laugh, “Yeah?” He says teasingly, “Yeah,” you moan, pretty much breathlessly. “Where do you want it?” He whispered and growled, licking a strip of your ear as he moved his hands up and down.

He explored your body, the tattooed muscle dipping between your curves and everything your beautiful body had to offer him. His gaze caught itself on your chest, taking in the way your breasts sat so prettily.

Steve didn’t waste a moment taking one of your rock hard nipples into his mouth, the sharp gasp you let out, hands gripping onto the countertop for dear life. It felt so good, he felt so good. He hasn’t even used his cock on you yet, and you already felt fucked out.

“Please, please,” you panted and pawed at his shoulders. “Gotta have your cock.” Upon hearing that, Steve’s lips departed from your nipple with a pop. You almost cried when you saw the string of drool connecting his mouth and your breast.

He saw it too, and fuck, did it spur him on. Within seconds, he had his cock aligned with your entrance, he couldn’t wait to feel you. He’s heard all about you, also from both men and women from the industry. Mostly from his good friend, Robin, you and her having worked together multiple times now.

Ever since then it’s been like a fantasy, a dream, to work with you. He had to pinch himself throughout the day to make sure he wasn’t imagine this, that he really truly was getting the million dollar chance to work with you. He felt like the luckiest person alive.

With a look that went deep inside your eyes and into your very soul, Steve wordlessly asked you if you were still okay. You nodded, giving him the green light to go ahead and fuck you. He took, and he did.

His cock entered you with great fervor, both of you letting out loud moans. Your legs wrapped around Steve’s hips, keeping you steady as he fucked into your sopping wet and tight cunt. “Jesus Christ,”

You threw your head back, arching and writhing like a person possessed. “God damn, baby. Knew this cunt would be tight, but I didn’t imagine this. You’ve got me like a fuckin vice, so wet and tight.” Steve greatly praised you, or… maybe he was mocking you. Either way, you felt amazing. He was reaching places inside of you no one else ever has, his cock hitting perfectly.

His speed was relentless, your already sensitive and sore body was on a different astral plane, you even forgot that this was just strictly work and this was not an every day thing. You fucking wish it would be.

“Fuck,” tears began to stream down your hot cheeks, and you couldn’t help but love it. The stars began to cloud your vision again, dancing above the two of you as you worked yourselves closer and closer to release. “You close again?” Steve asked, his voice dipping in a low tease as he said the word “again”

His “King Steve” persona, while at times incredibly hot and somewhat endearing, was also apparently a huge pain in the ass. Him being a household name went to his head at times, it seemed, but hey you had to hand it to him… he did truly live up to the title.

You rolled your eyes at his attitude, but played it off as a look of pleasure. After all, you had to sell it. And fuck, would you. Little did you know, was that after you two uploaded this, all hell would break loose and your audiences wouldn’t be able to get enough of the two of you together. They’d be begging for more…

Much like you were right now, so close to letting go, legs tightening around his hips and forcing him to move closer. If that was possible, he was already so close and deep inside you. His dark pubic hair teased and tickled your skin, but it also burned. The rough and intense rubbing of skin on skin, felt delicious.

Mouth hung open, your hands had switched from their place and the cold counter, to his back. You clung for dear life, nails digging into his tender skin and dragging down until they rested above his ass.

You bit your lip to hold back a smirk when an idea passed through your somewhat foggy mind, and you went with it. Slapping the skin, his ass jiggled slightly and he tensed, and his movement stopped abruptly.

You couldn’t help the needy clench around his cock, so close to letting go. Steve’s tattooed hand reached up to grab your chin and look you straight in your eyes, feeling how desperate you were. You gulped nervously when you saw the dark fire in his eyes.

Then, within a flash, you were off of your sitting position on the counter and instead being bent over it. You gasped, shocked by his actions and by the cold of the stone on your stomach and breasts.

Your knees hit the baseboards of the cabinets, but you didn’t even have time to think about it or care, his cock slamming back inside of you. “Dirty, dirty.” Steve tutted, “I knew you were a little minx, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He said, your mind hazy.

You loved being talked to like this, it drove you over the edge every time. He could feel your cunt and how it clenched, one of his rough hands landed a harsh slap on your ass, the other in your hair as it tugged. “How does that feel, huh? You like getting slapped?”

Safe to say, yes. Yes, you absolutely fucking did.

“I’m gonna- fuck I’m, ah!” You moaned and held on to the counter, like your life depended on it. Steve’s pace began to get sloppier, you knew he was close too. “Cum with me, baby.” He encouraged, “cum on my cock, while I cum in this pussy.” And you did.

You came hard, earth shattering pleasure raining down of the both of you, as his cum filled you to the brim. He waited for a signal from the director, before he pulled away and twisted you back around. He spread your legs open and stepped to the side, so the camera man could get a close up of your ruined, cum covered cunt. You panted and moaned when you felt Steve’s fingers swirling around your pussy.

He tapped the camera man’s shoulder with his free hand and got him to turn the camera up to your face, before Steve’s cum covered fingers were stuffed in your mouth. You moaned tiredly, heavy eyes stare straight ahead at the camera, licking his fingers clean, until the red light is turned off. “Good work,”

You were both congratulated, and handed robes. Steve all too quickly for your liking put his on, smirking when he saw you looking. “Still can’t get enough, huh?” He teased. “Oh hush,” you said as you slipped the robe over your hot, sweaty body.

“It was really great getting to work with you,” Steve said earnestly, you smiled and felt the heat creep of from your thighs to your neck. “Hopefully we can do it again sometime,” he winked. “Now don’t get too hopeful, Harrington. I’m not so sure you can handle me more than once,” you mocked. Steve let out a chuckle, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that if I were you,”

Steve teased, “you might regret it someday…” He whispered in your ear, before backing away and walking towards his own green room. Leaving you there with shaking legs, a newfound rush of lust, and an extreme hope that there would be a someday.

☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ And Scene ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Tag list:

@yelenas-lova @k-k0129 @kylee-munson-barnes @yourlocalauthor @st-ls @stratospherewalker @gaiamuse @stevieswhore

[rosella35]

Kaleb's Bad Day: Part I

*clears throat* It's been a while, G/T community!

I don't get as much time for writing anymore with my uni degree in its final years, but this is a one-shot I've been working on for an obnoxious amount of time now based on a prompt I got a while back: What if Kaleb, my borrower character, shrunk in class?

To set the scene since the last time I updated Borrowed Courage was in 2022 *sobs*, Kaleb and Brooke live in a world where the borrower race was discovered 10 years ago and unbeknownst to humankind, many borrowers use a drug called "Upsize" to temporarily grow to human size and blend into society. This one-shot is canon but probably won't be added to the main story for timing reasons. It's set roughly 2 months after Brooke first discovered Kaleb's secret identity as a borrower.

Part II will be up tomorrow - I hope you like!

Content warning: contains angst, swearing and nudity (not graphic).

****

“Alright. For the rest of today, I want you to work independently through the exercises in chapter two of your textbooks. I’ll be floating around if anyone has any burning questions.” Mr Bell instructed the class. From his seat at the back of the room, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration. On any other day, he would be more than happy to follow his teacher’s instructions; learning about human history was one of the things he’d enrolled in school for in the first place. From a young age, Kaleb had been fascinated with the way the giants that owned the world had came to be that way, while his kind— the borrowers— had spent their lives hidden away in the shadows. Today, though, he was only half paying attention. Kaleb ran his hands through his scruffy brown hair, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant pounding that seemed to reverberate all the way from his skull to his fingertips.  

Something was off. 

It wasn’t uncommon or him to be getting headaches from going consecutive days using Upsize, the drug that allowed him to attend human school at five feet nine instead of five inches tall. Even so, they hardly ever set in this early in the week, and were never an issue unless he was moving around too much. This one felt different. It had barely set in twenty minutes ago and was already driving him crazy. With a pained sigh, Kaleb tried to preoccupy himself with opening his textbook to the designated chapter. It felt weird to consider, since borrowers didn’t get sick nearly as often as humans did, but… maybe he was coming down with something.  

From the seat adjacent, Brooke Tucker glanced up from her own work to frown across at him. “Are you good?” She whispered, leaning forward with her hand on her chin. 

Kaleb immediately stiffened, surprised she’d even noticed his discomfort. Am I that obvious? “I don’t know.” He said uneasily. “My head is killing me.” 

The human girl’s brow creased in concern, an expression she rarely ever directed at him. If he weren’t so distracted by the pain, Kaleb probably would’ve been flattered. “Could be a migraine.” She suggested, before adding in a lower voice. “Do borrowers even get those?”

“Yes, we get migraines.” He whispered back, rolling his eyes. Since she’d discovered Kaleb’s true identity back in September, the human girl had made it her mission to find every opportunity to tease and mock him about being a borrower. Still, Kaleb couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about this particular headache felt familiar. No way. That’s impossible. He dismissed, turning back to his textbook. “It’s probably nothing.” He assured her.

That was when he felt it.

BADUMP. 

A sudden wave of pain reverberated through his body, making him sit bolt upright in his desk like he’d just stepped on a live wire. It was a sensation Kaleb knew all-too-well, because he’d experienced it every afternoon after school for the past four years. 

His Upsize was about to wear off. 

“Shit.” He hissed, feeling the colour drain from his face. His mind reeled, struggling to make sense of why this was even happening. It was like one of his worst nightmares come to life. He should’ve had more time. He always had more time. Had Rodney messed up his dose? 

Kaleb ground his teeth together, forcing himself to focus. There was no time to dwell on the ‘why’. He had to get out of sight, and fast. 

BADUMP.

The room spun as he was hit with another rapid full-body ache, and Kaleb almost collapsed out of his chair. He felt himself start to shiver uncontrollably, the primal fear of being seen overwhelming his senses. “Kaleb, what the hell’s going on with you?” Brooke’s voice echoed somewhere beside him. “You’re making a scene.” 

Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit. Kaleb didn’t have to look up to know that the whole class was staring at him, a tingling feeling that sent his borrower instincts to flee into overdrive. He glanced across at Brooke, gazing unblinking into her judgemental grey-green eyes like they were his lifeline. In that moment, he made a decision.

“Why’re you staring at me like that, it’s creeping me—”

“Come with me.” Kaleb blurted out. 

That was all the warning Brooke got before he’d clamped his hand around her wrist and launched out of his seat, dragging her along behind him. 

“Sorry Mr Bell, we’ll be right back!” He announced in a rush of adrenalin, practically stumbling out the classroom door. Brooke, who had been too bewildered to react to their sudden exit, finally came to her senses as they entered the empty hallway. She ripped her hand out of his grasp, ears reddening in second-hand embarrassment from what had just gone down.

“What the fuck was that about?” She hissed, though her expression shifted to concern when he leaned heavily against the wall several paces in front of her, clutching his head. For the first time, Brooke noticed the raw, unsuppressed fear in his eyes.  

“I can explai—” Kaleb started, but broke off with a startled yelp when he felt the shrinking process finally kick in. He could only catch a glimpse of Brooke’s startled expression before the ground rushed towards him and he was swallowed up by his human clothes that were suddenly hundreds of sizes too big. Within the span of a few seconds, he found himself back at his original five-inch-tall height and buried beneath the course folds of his t-shirt, chest heaving from the lingering adrenalin and body frozen in terror as the reality of his situation dawned. 

Brooke, having witnessed the whole thing, did a double take. “What in the—” One second Kaleb had been standing there in front of her, and the next… Her eyes fell to his unoccupied pile of clothes, and she swore, realising what had just happened. 

“Kaleb? Brooke? Is everything okay with you two?” She froze at the sound of Mr Bell’s voice from inside the classroom, his footsteps growing closer and closer.

Panicking, Brooke scrambled to scoop up the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes, quickly locating the squirming figure buried within, and shoved them behind herself. The second he felt her fingers close around him and lift him blindly into the air, Kaleb’s heart leapt into his throat. He shivered involuntarily, the sensation of powerful human hands around his entire frame serving as a stark reminder of how little control he had over their current situation. All he could do was make himself as small as possible in her grip and trust Brooke to handle things with the teacher. 

“Y-Yep!” The human girl said, turning around just as the Mr Bell poked his head out the classroom door. Her hands tightened protectively around Kaleb’s smaller form under the clothes, feeling his tiny heartbeat flutter like a bird’s against her fingers. She cleared her throat awkwardly in attempt to compose herself. “I mean… actually, Kaleb wasn’t feeling well. He went ahead to the nurses office, but would you mind if I go too? J-Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

The teacher gave her a strange look, and Brooke held her breath, waiting for him to notice the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes behind her back and effectively blow her cover story. After a moment though, Mr Bell’s expression softened to concern. “Oh, of course you can.” He said with a nod. “I hope he feels better soon. Don’t worry about missing the rest of the lesson. I’ll email the two of you supplementary work later today.”

She managed a strained smile. “Thank you.” 

The moment he disappeared back inside, Brooke took off down the hall, her mind stalling on what she was supposed to do next. There was no way she could actually take Kaleb to the nurses office without exposing him, and it would be too suspicious if she just up and left the building in the middle of class. She cursed. There was really only one place that would give the two of them some privacy, which made her uncomfortable even thinking about, but Brooke didn’t really have a choice. 

Resigned to her fate, she made beeline for the girl’s bathroom. 

Locking herself inside a cubicle, Brooke let out a relieved sigh. She sat down heavily on the closed seat of the toilet, turning her attention to the bundle of Kaleb’s human clothes in her lap and the tiny muffled voice she could suddenly hear through the fabric. “Can’t breathe—!”

Eyes widening, Brooke loosened her hold around the clothes. It seemed silly now, but in her haste to get to somewhere private, she’d almost forgotten that Kaleb had been with her the whole time, buried underneath the layers of denim and cotton.  She was about to reach in to try and pull him out, when she realised that somewhere amongst the folded material, Kaleb was not only borrower-sized but naked. Face heating up at the thought, Brooke sat back against the toilet and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Okay, you’re safe to come out. We’re alone.” 

Sure enough, it wasn’t long after she’d spoken that Brooke noticed a miniature head of scruffy brown hair poking out through the of one of the t-shirt sleeves as Kaleb revealed himself at last. He blinked rapidly in the harsh fluorescent lighting, scrambling to cover himself with his blanket-like clothes. Without his usual shirt and tan jacket combo, he seemed almost smaller than usual, his bare shoulders slim and pale and his breaths short and fast. Fragile was the first word that came to mind. Intuitively, Brooke knew that compared to humans, borrowers really were fragile and vulnerable, but those were never words she’d associated with Kaleb. Now though, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that his entire body trembled like a scared animal in her hands. 

That didn’t stop her from glaring daggers at him. “What the fuck, Kaleb!” She hissed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

Kaleb flinched instinctively, his hazel eyes shooting up to meet her now much larger grey ones. Brooke’s angry expression faltered. Shit. He looked terrified— even more so than the time she’d found him on the apartment roof all those weeks ago. She swallowed, turning away uncomfortably. That look in his eyes… It didn’t suit him at all. 

The two of them didn’t speak for several minutes, awkward silence permeating the cubicle. Kaleb took that time to try and compose himself, his full-body tremors slowly dissipating as he tried to calm his pounding heart. It wasn’t easy to do by any means, but he appreciated Brooke’s patience. Finally finding his voice, he tilted his head to meet her eyes. 

“S-Sorry.” He said, holding the material of his shirt around his nude frame with white knuckled hands. He licked his dry lips. “No one saw… did they?”

Brooke sighed, making a conscious effort to shift to a gentler tone of voice. Now probably wasn’t the time for their usual teasing banter. “No.” She reassured him. “Just me.” 

Kaleb visibly relaxed at that, minuscule shoulders slumping under the thick material of his shirt. “Thank god.” He breathed, almost too quiet for her to make out. So he hadn’t been seen by anyone else in the class. Just knowing that was enough to ease a significant portion of his built up anxiety. With a clearer head, Kaleb finally paused to take in his surroundings, and his jaw immediately dropped when he caught sight of a toilet roll as long as he was tall. “What the—” He exclaimed, looking up at her with an aghast expression. “Is this the girl’s bathroom—?!” 

Brooke held back a snort as his tiny face turned beet red with embarrassment. Much more like the Kaleb she knew. “You didn’t exactly give me much time to think of a better place to go.” She pointed out, sitting up straighter on the toilet seat. “And while we’re on that topic, what the hell happened to you? Isn’t your wonder drug supposed to last the whole day?” 

Kaleb flinched at that and peered down at his smaller form, pathetically dwarfed by the clothes that had fit him perfectly less than ten minutes ago. Already, without the disguise that was his human height, he was starting to feel like the fraud he was; just another borrower trying and failing to carry himself with the same level of confidence and liberty as a human. “I-I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Maybe my uncle messed up the dose.” He wrapped the the fabric of his shirt sleeve tighter around himself, feeling more exposed than ever. “This has never happened to me before.” 

“Clearly.” Brooke said. “If I hadn’t been there to cover for you, you’d’ve been screwed for sure.” 

She felt him shiver at that fact, almost making her regret her choice of words. “You’re right.” Kaleb looked up at her again, his expression earnest. “Thank you, Brooke. Really.” 

Brooke blinked. That was unexpected. She shifted in her seat and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blush. With their current size difference, that was unlikely. “I-It’s fine.” She said. “So, uh… what now, then? Do you have any more Upsize you can take?” 

Kaleb pursed his lips. “I don’t keep any spare pills at school.” He admitted quietly, shuddering again despite the course fabric around him. “With Upsize, you need to wait at least an hour after shrinking before you can take another dose. It’s supposed to give the medicine a chance to leave your system, kind of like a cool-down period.”

“Right, of course that’s a thing.” Brooke sighed. She tried racking her brain for an alternative solution. “Well then, can someone come get you? Surely Evie would. I bet she’s bored out of her mind back at the apartment without having me to spy on.” 

Instead of laughing at her poor attempt at a joke, Kaleb looked horrified. “I can’t just leave early!” He exclaimed. “I’ll miss maths next period. Mrs Crowley said she’d be giving out final exam tips today!” 

Brooke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re kidding.” She started, holding back a disbelieving laugh. Looking closer at his tiny, pleading features though, her smile faded. “You’re not kidding.” She deadpanned, groaning. “Come on, Kaleb. How the fuck are you supposed to come to class like this? You don’t even have any clothes!”

Kaleb’s cheeks heated up and he pulled the shirt sleeve a little tighter around himself as he was reminded of his current nudity. “I can get clothes.” He insisted, his usual confident demeanour returning in full force. “I have a spare set in my locker. Climbing gear, too.” 

Brooke would have face palmed herself if her hands weren’t still cupped around his tiny frame. She regarded him quizzically. “Well that’s great, but isn’t your whole thing supposed to be not getting seen by the rest of the class?” 

Kaleb shook his head. “I don’t have to actually come to class. You could just, y’know, let me off into the air vent and I can listen in from there.” He suggested, giving her a clumsy shrug from amongst the bundle of clothes. 

Brooke just stared down at him, completely lost for words. “You’re crazy.” She muttered. “You’re actually fucking crazy. You literally almost shrunk in front of our whole class, and now you want me to just let you go off into the walls so you can catch some stupid exam tips?” 

“Brooke.” 

She didn’t hear him, her voice rising in annoyance as she continued. “And then what? Am I supposed to just stay back and look for you after class, like that’s totally not suspicious at all?!”

“Brooke.” 

“Ugh!” She wanted so badly to bang her head into the cubicle door. “Why do I even get myself into these situations? I swear, ever since I found out about you and your stupid little secret, my life’s been a fucking disaster—!”

“BROOKE!”

She broke off with a start at his exclamation, caught off guard by how loud he’d managed to sound despite his obvious disadvantage in size. Brooke bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose. She almost jumped when she felt a slight pressure on her thumb. Kaleb had reached out to touch it with his much smaller hand, stroking the digit in attempt to reassure her. “You good?” He asked. 

“Y-Yeah.” Brooke replied weakly, her mouth dry. She didn’t want to say anything but the feeling of his tiny hand on her finger felt so… weird. Kaleb almost never initiated physical contact with her when he was borrower-sized.  

He nodded, meeting her eyes again. “I’m sorry.” He said with obvious embarrassment. “I got a bit ahead of myself there. I guess I just thought you’d want me out of your hair so you could get back to class. If you can help me to my locker, I’ll call Evie to come pick me up, and I’ll just email Mrs Crowley about the exam later.” 

Brooke sighed at his words, a much simpler solution coming to mind that she was probably crazy for even suggesting. “Or you could just come with me.” She pointed out, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement when he blinked up at her. “What? Did you forget we have the same maths class?” 

“Come… with you?” Kaleb repeated, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “As in, on your person? Where would I even go—?” His broke off, eyes trailing upwards to the chest pocket of her oversized denim jacket at the same time hers did. His face lost several shades of colour, and he shook his head firmly, despite knowing deep down that he might not have any say in the matter. “No way. No way. I’m not gonna sit in your pocket all day like some house pet, Brooke! That’s just… that’s just embarrassing!” 

The human girl smirked down at him. “Well, would it be any more embarrassing than being tiny and naked in the girl’s bathroom?” Her hand inched up to ruffle his hair teasingly. “I mean, unless you’re secretly a pervert?” 

Kaleb swiped at her already retreating digit. “I’m not a pervert!” He snapped, pointing his own diminutive finger up at her accusingly. “You brought me here, not the other way around!”  

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She giggled. “You’re always so easy to work up like this.” 

Kaleb bristled. “Yeah, well can you blame me? When I’m like this, there’s five extra feet of you to piss me off!”

“Fair point.” Brooke smirked. “So, what’s it gonna be then?” Her hands edged closer around him, as she impatiently tapped her foot against the tiles. “I can’t just keep sitting on the toilet for the rest of the day.”

Kaleb sighed, turning his gaze downwards in defeat. He had to admit she was right about that. Stalling was only prolonging what they both knew had to come next. “Fine. I’ll come to class with you.” He hesitated. “Just… can we please get my clothes first?” 

Brooke looked at him, shock evident on her face. Did he really believe that she wouldn’t let him get changed? It was humbling to think that with Kaleb like this, without his bag or climbing gear, he was essentially putting his life and his autonomy in her hands. Just knowing that made Brooke soften her voice ever so slightly. “Um, yeah, of course. There’s no way you’re coming with me in the nude. That’s fucked up.” 

Kaleb breathed a sigh of relief at her reassurance, offering a grateful smile. “Okay… Well, in the meantime, could you grab me a piece of toilet paper? To cover up, I mean.” 

Brooke blinked, glancing across at the roll beside her. Hesitantly, she tore off a small strip of toilet paper between her thumb and index finger and handed it down to him. Kaleb took it, ducking under his sleeve for a moment to tie it around his waist like a towel. He looked down at his handiwork, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll do.” He muttered to himself, letting the oversized shirt sleeve fall away so that he was standing at his full five-inch height in her cupped hands.  

Despite herself, Brooke almost did a double take when she saw his bare chest for the first time. There was no denying it; Kaleb was ripped. The thought had never occurred to her, but considering his active lifestyle, she really shouldn’t have been as caught off guard as she was. A little more of a tan, and he could’ve belonged in a body building magazine. She tore her eyes away before he caught her staring, but that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating up. 

She coughed. “Right. Ready to go then?”

“That depends.” Kaleb smirked knowingly. There was really no way he could have missed a stare that size. He took a bold step forward in her cupped hands and flexed his muscles tauntingly. “Did you want a closer look?” 

“W-What?”

“Who’s the pervert now, huh?” He teased, throwing the label right back at her.

“Shut up!” In that embarrassment-riddled moment, Brooke reacted in the only way she could think of. She poked Kaleb harshly in the chest. Like always, he staggered backwards with a yelp at the impact, but this time neither of them had taken proper stock of their surroundings. As if in slow-motion, Kaleb tripped over the folded clothing behind him, simultaneously jostling free the poorly secured knot holding up his toilet paper toga. All hope of modesty gone, he fell flat on his back with his legs gracelessly splayed… within full view of the human girl holding him. 

The two of them stared at each other in silent shock for several seconds, and Brooke wished she could bleach her eyeballs. Instead, she opted for the next best course of action.

“AHHHH!”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#342

“Well fuck!  I know it’s end of the day on a Friday, but you still have an hour and a half of work you owe me.  Jesus, you have already changed out of your ranch work clothes into going-to-the-roadhouse clothes.  You look ridiculous.  You go from being an actual cowboy working with the herds on a ranch to dressing like a wannabe city cowboy who goes to watch the rodeo during the day and then line dances, gets rowdy drunk, and gropes up some skank ho who believes every cowboy line you feed her before taking her round the roadhouse for a pathetic back-alley blowjob at night.  Good lord, those jeans look sprayed on.  There’s no way anyone can miss your junk up front…. 

“Wait, is that one of…  Did you open up one of my beers?  Jesus fuck.  When I allowed you to stay in the workers quarters around back as part of this job, I told you that food and drink was your responsibility.

“Look, we need to have a talk.  It’s been three weeks since I hired you on.  Now is as good as time as any to go over how you are doing.  Into the barn now!

“Holy shit, no wonder why you wear those jeans; your ass is on display.  I swear if you were to fart, that seam would split open. 

“Go into the center….  Got you motherfucker….  Urgh….  Ahh….

“Shut the fuck up.  I was roping cattle since I was nine.  Tying up a scrawny five-foot seven pseudo cowboy wearing very restrictive jeans is nothing for me.  Now look at you, your limb bound together so can’t move a muscle lying on the ground totally vulnerable.  Damn, my tying skills are amazing.

“Now let’s talk about your performance the past few weeks.  You suck.  You do a half assed job, and it shows.  You make mistakes, nothing major.  But still.  Now you want to cut out early?  Fuck that.

“When I hired you, I heard about your reputation of being a brat, not interacting well with others.  I figured you just needed a job with little interaction with others.  Now I understand fully that you are a fuck up.

“So, I am in a predicament.  What the fuck do I do with you?...  Shut up!  That was a rhetorical question.  See, my ranch is one of the smaller ones around, and I can’t pay as much as some of the corporate ones around here.  So I’m stuck with a worker who sucks.

“Heh, interesting choice of words hunh?...  You know I spent eight years in the Corps right out of high school?  Yeah, I don’t have many things from my time in.  But the one thing I use quite often is this: my Ka-Bar knife.  This knife is so functional, I keep it sharpened.  If you were impressed with my roping, wait until you experience how I handle this knife. 

“With one swipe, the seam of your jeans now has a hole in it.  And like that, I have further ripped the hole, so your entire ass crack is exposed.  Another tug,… now your cock and balls are free.  I should say your tiny cock. 

“Now you are in a predicament.  Your limbs are bound and your asshole is exposed for all to see.  Let me ask you again.  What am I going to do with you? 

“I see you drank half your beer.  I would hate to see the rest of it go to waste.  It should go into the sewer, your sewer.  Hold still.  The bottle is still cold.  Your asshole is twitching.  You ever have a beer enema?  No?  Well, half a bottle should be enough.  You feel it?  You should start to feel the effects quite fast….  You’re drunk hunh? 

“You know?  If I let you continue working here, I think I will require you to wear those jeans from now on.  It will keep your mind focused on who is in charge here. 

“And just to show you that I’m not a total asshole, I’m going to let you see my ass and dick.  That’s only fair.  I’ll just take mine off….

“This is a real cowboy cock.  Eight inches long and seven inches around.  I got a serious leak going on.  Check out my ass.  This is a real cowboy ass, not one poured into jeans.  This ass came about from decades of hard work.  You should see it up close.  Here, you aren’t going anywhere, let me just squat over your face.  Smell that?  That stink is not from not wiping, but being in the saddle all day in the sun.  That’s saddle stink.  You will learn to love it….

“What the fuck?  Did you just lick me?  Jesus fuck you did!  Holy shit!  Damn boy, either that beer enema got you really drunk or… you’re a faggot!  Oh my god, your dick is rock hard.  I got me a faggot working for me.  Here eat some more of my hole boy.  You seem to have no problem with the saddle stink.

“Oh man, you have done this before haven’t you?  I take it from you moan that you have.  Fuck, you are one nasty pig.  Wasn’t expecting this to happen from you, but fuck your tongue really belongs in my shitter.  You really got me leaking.

“I need your hole now….  No! I’m not untying you until I’m done.  This is not supposed to be comfortable for you.  I want you tied in that position. 

“Feel my leak on your hole?  That’s all the lube you are going to get.

“Scream motherfucker.  Scream!  Clamp down, don’t let one drop of beer go.  Oh man, does your hole feel good, and a beer filled one at that.  Fuck.  Quit squirming.  You are interrupting my rhythm.  I’m not going to last long.  It’s been a week since I last shot, and I am ready to breed this hole.

“I’m going to do it!  I’m going to cum.  You ready?  You don’t deserve this load.  But fuck I deserve to nut.  Here it cums.  Here it cums!  Ahh ahh ahh!  Fuck.  Ah.  Oh man.

“Going forward this hole is mine.  Part of your job is to serve my cock.  What my cock wants, it gets.  Clamp down.  I’m about to pull out.  I want my cum and beer to be in you for a while. 

“Fuck, you look good tied up.  Let me get you bound in a different painful position.  I’m going to untie you.  Keep in mind, you are sore from being in that position, you are drunk, I am bigger than you, and I know how to handle livestock.  So don’t do something stupid and try to run.  You are going to be tied down in one way or another this entire weekend.  Stand on these blocks and lift your hands up high….

“…There, you are.  You look good spread eagle with your wrists tied to those posts. And if I kick those blocks you were standing on, on your tip toes you go.  Well, I’m going to be back in an hour or two.  I’m going to call some friends over from the canyon.  They are a couple that got me into tying up and fucking queers like yourself.  You are definitely their type.

“Yeah, now you know what’s really expected of you for this job, I think you are work out fine going forward, don’t you think?”

[cannibalovers]

yo another will analysis song (cuz i'm crazy over him and my music taste fits his situation the most i think)

Hannibal song of the day: song no.3

a bit about the song (and album) :

"Underneath it all"(released in 1999) is a song by Nine Inch Nails (my fav band ever i swear i can talk about them for hours sorry). It was written by the frontman of the group, Trent Reznor. It's a part of "The Fragile" album, a quite important album for Reznor's career. "The Fragile" (banger) is a concept album, based on a man known as "mr. self destruct" and is a sequel to "The Downward Spiral"(another banger), dealing with personal issues, including depression, angst, and drug abuse - attempting to find order in chaos and find their way out, but ultimately, failing. "Underneath it all" fits the industrial rock and alternative rock genre, including scratchy synthesisers and distorted guitars and harsh beats, combined with soft vocals that build up to be louder and harsher. The instrumental build up on itself, looping and stuttering. The song talks about trying to move on from a hurtful situation but feeling "stained", the pain and trauma and it's effects it had on the man not going away, no matter what extremes he takes.

I could honestly talk about The Fragile for hours just on its own, it's so vulnurable and angry and it's history makes me so fucking sad, considering how much shit Trent was going through(substance abuse, depression, anxiety, death of his grandma who raised him), but this is a hannibal centered post so. I think the song can fit Will pretty well considering his mindset and feelings by the end of season 1 + prison, not much today cuz its so straight forward

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

chorus + verse since it's quite short and repetitive

"All I do, I can still feel you (x5)

Numb all through, I can still feel you

Hear your call, underneath it all

Kill my brain, yet you still remain

Crucified, after all I've died

After all I've tried, you are still inside

All I do, I can still feel you(x4)"

the narrator feels plagued, stained, he can't get rid of whatever he is trying to get rid of. The impact the subject had on him was so big that the memories of it and erasure just feels impossible, he feels hopeless, numb. When taking in the themes of the album into account, it's most likely about drugs - trying to recover, but the symptoms of withdrawal just being too intense, feeling like the addiction is punishing and mocking him for ever choosing drugs or even thinking that he can escape them - or it can even be about God. Trent explored the theme of religion in many songs like Heresy or Terrible Lie, blaming God for everything that is happening to him and for causing suffering, yet still coming back, never forgetting him, switching between heretic and devotional tendencies back and forth. He's just so rooted into his mind that it's impossible to not come back, no matter how much he tries to change his faith, maybe even feeling judged and punished by God for his choices.

Whichever one it is, Mr. Self destruct feels hopeless, as his oppressor has become so powerful that it has become a part of his mind, starting to haunt him and latch onto them, almost like a leech. He has tried everything, kill his brain (end it all) or even crucifying (most likely referring to trying to repent for his sins or give up his unhealthy lifestyle and mindset, crucifying them) and yet the little voice in his head still remains present, taunting him.

That's what Will seems to feel like, like Hannibal plagued him with a disease of his own, making Will lose his own mind, identity and sanity in the process - he is becoming him and he can't get rid of him or stop it. Will admits in the series that he keeps hearing Lecter in his head, his head voice sounding like his and even started to think like him, not to mention the various visions where Will grows antlers just like wendigo, as well as once and for all, Will got reborn as wendigo, finalising his transformation. Hannibal has officially stained him and made him what he wanted Will to be.

The way the song builds up, the layers becoming noiser and gritter as well as the vocals louder and more desperate just ties the overwhelming feeling together.

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

Outro

"All I do, I can still feel you(x2)

(You remain, I am stained)"

the song suddenly drops, stuttering instead, becoming weaker and weaker, which to me represents giving up. The narrator gives up and accepts the fact that the oppressor remains and that he will forever be changed and affected by what has been done to him.

In the show, Will didn't exactly want to accept that, but I guess through his method of manipulating Hannibal back, he has just reinforced Hannibal's effects on him, making Will become Hannibal, he has been stained and can't do anything about it - although he seems to accept his faith and even lets him remain in his life (literally came back for him like damn...tiny bit gay if u ask me).

additional notes :

i couldn't recommend to listen to the fragile more, if you enjoy harsh noises, electronic, rock and industrial sounds and ambience sound, lots of layers and build ups and instrumental and absolute emotional damage then i recommend. this album is so dear to me its insane

my playlist

hope u enjoyed <3

[thebisexualdogdad]

No touching - Evan Buckley x M!Reader

"Really Buck, you already have a boner?" You laugh as you and your boyfriend settle in to watch some adult films.

"I've been waiting for this all day! When you said you wanted to try watching porn together I made a list in my head of all my favorites I wanted to show you," Buck says eagerly whipping his shirt off.

"That is the most Evan Buckley thing I have ever heard you say," you smile, removing your own shirt and taking a seat next to him on the couch.

His laptop is set up on the coffee table while he searches for the first video.

He leans back as the first video plays and it shows a group of six male firefighters undressing in a locker room.

"Is this something you've fantasized about Buckley?" You say with a grin.

"I mean I can't lie when you first started working with us, there were so many times I wanted to take you right there in the locker room all hot and sweaty and nearly naked," he says, giving you a chaste kiss before intently watching the video.

He refrains from touching himself not wanting to cum so quickly but you see him squirming in his seat, his bulge only getting bigger and that starts to turn you on.

The firefighters in the video are now sucking each other's dicks and Buck is palming himself through his pants.

A few minutes later you both strip down to your boxers, erections standing tall as the firefighters are spread out across the locker room fucking each other.

"You know that one kind of looks like you," you chuckle, pointing to one of the guys that is bent over a bench and getting railed.

"Why do you think I like this video so much? I imagine you're the one behind him," he smirks.

When you can't resist touching yourselves anymore you get rid of your boxers and move onto the next video, this one is more of a home video, camera quality isn't great but the guys sure are hot which more than makes up for it.

"That guy has got to be at least nine inches," Buck says slowly stroking his cock.

"Imagine getting fucked by a dick that big," you say watching his hand move up and down while you stroke your own cock.

"Who says I haven't? A beefy bisexual firefighter gets you a lot of action in this town," Buck grins.

You share a laugh and return your attention back to the video of the smaller built man getting demolished by his giant boyfriend.

Buck is moaning and playing his nipples, flicking and pinching them.

You want so badly to lean over and start sucking on them but you agreed earlier that you wouldn't touch each other wanting to enjoy the experience of only getting off with your own hands.

Your hand starts moving faster, glancing back and forth from the video to Buck.

Yours and Bucks moans are mixing with the moans coming from the video and you swear you could listen to this forever.

The man pulls out and the video does a close up of the other guy's gaping hole.

"Fuck I would to have my way with that hole," you groan.

"And I'd love to watch you," Buck winks at you.

Well that was something you two would definitely be talking about later.

The man in the video continues to pound the guy, Buck throwing his head back against the couch as he nears his release.

"Shit," he grunts, slapping his pecks and roughly tugging on his nipples.

"Buck," you moan, tumbling over the edge at the sight.

You cum all over your stomach and Buck smirks, stroking himself so fast when he cums some of it splashes on his face.

"Fuck you're so hot," you say licking his cum off his chin.

"I thought we weren't going to touch each other?" He grins.

"Well that was while we were jerking off, now it's fair game and I need you to get to the bed right now so I can eat your ass before I fuck you," you tell him.

"Race you there," he smiles, quickly getting up from the couch and running towards the bedroom.

"You're so in for it Buckley," you say chasing after him.

[aeaean--bliss]

the madonna | chapter one: arrival

summary: It's 1985. The English countryside swells with the day's remains of midsummer heat as you make your way towards the gate, longs strands of grass nipping at your calves.

It's a good time to get away. Old and distant family friends have taken you in against your wildest imagination, following torturous personal circumstances and a recent mental breakdown. Here, where you can live with purpose among people who care about you, you can slowly begin to rest and recover in the secluded privacy of the Burrow.

Now would be a really bad time for you to run into the most traumatic ex-fling of your life, wouldn't it?

pairing: remus lupin x reader

genre: non-magic!AU; farmhand remus!AU

word count: 4k

warnings/tags: blood, injury, mental breakdown, mental health issues (mostly anxiety and depression), shitty parents, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, swearing, mentions of violence, orphanhood, smut (eventually), a lot of self-deprecation, tension, pining, arguing, etc.

author's note: minors DNI! please read the warnings. this series is taking all i have to write, and a lot of it is just me projecting. i hope it resonates with at least some of you.

chapter index

masterlist

chapter one | arrival

The night’s a dewy one; wet and almost, almost , cold, with a fog that hangs heavy around your head.

“Y/N. So good to see you, love.”

She means well. The sincerity in her eyes and the warmth in her smile tells you as much. But there’s something in her voice that sounds a little too much like pity. Her clammy palm cups your cheek, adding to the itchy layer of grime that seems to coat every inch of your skin. 

Still, you smile. 

“Molly.”

She shoves a cup into your hands. She’s gone before you have a chance to thank her. 

Can’t stand this English Breakfast shit.

Placing the cup on the mantle, you wrap an arm around the waist of each twin in the armchair and lift them up before settling in yourself. 

Every joint in your body aches. Your wrists feel weak, like half the blood has drained from your body. The headache that’s been brewing since you got on the train this morning threatens to spark up again, pounding dully against your skull like a speaker pumping underwater. 

It’s just the travel. Travel, and inhaling shit air, and eating shit food, and being all cramped up. You’re not even sure you ate. Hard to tell when each day bleeds into the next and time goes by a million miles an hour and not at all. 

Small feet and hands dig into the flesh of your thighs and stomach. The twins settle either side of your waist, gurgling and babbling to themselves. You sit in silence, staring at a patch of carpet, restless nails picking at frayed threads on the tattered armrest. Someone enters the room, voices speak, but it all sounds muffled. It isn’t until Molly pushes a saucer of biscuits under your nose that you come to, blinking heavily and mumbling disjointedly.

“Thank you.”

Molly glances at the clock on the wall. It’s got nine hands, one for Molly, one for Arthur, and one for each of the children. Does she keep a stack of them in a drawer somewhere, to add one on whenever a new one comes along?

“It’s getting late,” she mutters. 

Is it?

The thought that you might be keeping them up gnaws at you. You’re about to offer to retire for the evening, to apologise and head off, when Arthur stands. He hums, brows furrowed as though in deep thought, and shuffles into the hallway. As the air grows heavy with silence, your gaze rests back on Molly. 

“You know, I might just…”

The words die on your lips. They must have barely been audible, anyway, judging by Molly’s lack of reaction.

The odd child meanders into the room as you wait for Arthur to return. Bill’s at that age where you pretend you’re an adult, unsurprised and unscared. He barely spares you a second glance as he steps over to his mother, asking for the whereabouts of his book on Britain’s Most Dangerous Deepwater Sea-Creatures. 

Charlie’s not quite there yet, lingering in the hallway and peeking around the doorframe with wide eyes and a long, floppy, pink tongue. It’s the toy in his hands that catches your eye, a bright green dragon with blue spikes and huge eyes. He holds it around its neck so tight it might just pop off. 

You beckon him over. His eyes dart to his mother, then back to you, then back to his mother. Then he steels himself and tiptoes towards you.

“Y/N.”

He blinks. He looks like he’s going to chicken out and back away. 

You pull your hand away from the mouth of a teething George, wiping his saliva off on your sleeve and reaching behind your head. Lifting one of the many pendants from around your neck, you slip the chain onto your finger and hold it out to the seven year old in front of you.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” you say softly.

He eyes it timidly, looking up at you, then down at the pendant, then up at you, then back down at the pendant. The pendant’s a photo coin you bought at a museum gift shop when you were young; it’s got a celtic dragon pressed into its centre and waves decorating the rim.

“Take it,” you whisper. 

He smiles shyly, before snatching the chain with clumsy hands and shuffling away, not taking his eyes off of it for a second. The movement excites the twins, who squeal, and giggle, and squirm in your arms. One of them accidentally slaps you in the face. The other tries to shove their hand in your face, getting their hand stuck in your necklaces. 

“Come here,” you sigh, taking the soft, small, pudgy hand in yours to ease it out of the knot of chains. 

Four heavy knocks pound somewhere in the distance. 

The chains have gotten caught up in your hair, now. The child tugs, and you lurch, dangerously close to getting your fingers tangled up in the mess. 

A door slams in the distance. The bairn pulls his hand back, threatening to take a chunk of your scalp out with it. You grab hold of his hand again, murmuring for him to keep still, to relax, to stop pulling-

Then, from the doorway, with a kind lilt and a Yorkshire accent that makes your blood run cold as ice, comes a soft, deep voice, and surely you must be ill. Surely, you must have caught some fatal, delayed-onset disease, because the fever that burns at your skin, rippling in waves and numbing your wrists, is anything short of natural.

It hurts. It actually hurts. 

“Where’d you like ‘em, Molly?”

You might pass out. Jesus, you can hear your heartbeat squelching in your ears. You can vaguely hear Molly fussing about the time and we were beginning to think you weren’t coming back tonight and- 

Back? 

Soft, small hands slap at your wrists when they notice your attention has drifted. 

What does she mean, back? 

You’re still trying to untangle the knot in your hair, fingertips trying and failing to set you free. You can just about see the lower half of him where you sit, hunched over, with toddler spit trailing down your forearm and a fist in your hair. You can see the way his shirt sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows; see the sprigs of some kind of plant poking out from the handles of one of the plastic bags in his hands. 

He’s grown. Lived. Thrived, even, by the looks of things. 

It’s the smallest thing, but it fucks with your head. You haven’t grown, or lived, or thrived at all. You’re small. Ratty. Shrivelled, even, by the looks of things. 

As you finally detangle the child’s fingers from your hair, you get a proper look at him. He looks like he has friends. But not like he has to make any effort to keep them. Not even that; like it’s effortless for him to keep them. Like he’s got that kind of quiet magnetism. He looks like the type of guy someone else randomly brings to a night out and every friend of a friend tries to chat him up. Like he barely needs to say a word, but everyone still knows who he is and greets him when they see him.

What must he see when he looks at you? 

You feel sick.

You can see the exact moment he sees you because he frowns and cocks his head to the side. He says nothing as Molly’s fusses, eyes fixed on you with his lips barely parted, head half-turned to the side like it wants to tear away but can’t seem to force itself.

You’ve been sat by the fire too long; your face burns from it. Why they’ve lit a fire in mid-june is beyond you. 

“Now,” Molly says, waving you over, “Arthur’s set everything up for you, dear, though I’ve got to warn you, it’s no luxury hotel. That room’s barely been touched since there were farmers here, and that’s about fifty years ago, now…”

When did Arthur come back in?

“And Gideon told you about the plumbing, and the-”

“Yes,” you interject, heart beating in your throat, now, “Yes, thank you. Really, Molly, thank you so much. For everything.”

She carries on, turning to Remus. You feel lightheaded; so lightheaded, and it’s been such a long day and you’re exhausted, and she’s asked you something now, she’s actually asked you something and you can see her lips moving but you can’t hear a thing. 

“Sorry,” you say suddenly. “I’m just- I’m very tired. Could I maybe…?”

Is your voice really loud?

“Of course, dear,” Molly says, prying Arthur’s cup out of his hands. “You must be exhausted, all that travel. Here, Remus’ll walk you down, he’s staying in the other room. It’s no more than fifteen, twenty minutes down the road - will you manage?”

“Yes, I-,” you say, “that’s fine.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night if you like,” Arthur offers, insistently. “I wouldn’t want you walking down to that old shack at this hour of the night, why don’t-”

“She’s a grown woman, dear,” Molly fusses, reaching over to take Remus’ cup. 

When’d she find time to give him that?

They shoo the boys out and suddenly, in a heartbeat, the room is almost completely empty. 

Time slows way down, with a force that leaves your stomach surging like you’re on a plane taking a dive. This is the split second where Remus’ nonchalant facade breaks, when he first gets a good, up-close look at your face. Where he gets this look, this far-out and distanced look in his eyes, but you can’t make out what it is. And then it flashes before your eyes, dark and pained and sharp and twisted and it’s like you’ve both tapped into the same frequency for the millisecond it takes for the memory to flicker in front of your mind’s eye. 

Can he see the way your eyes gloss over?

“Remus, dear,” Molly’s voice tuts from behind him, “Would you mind? You’re just in the way, love.”

He doesn’t answer, eyes - not wide in surprise like yours, but narrowed; narrowed, unblinking, and concentrated. It fills your stomach with dread. Anything neutral in his surprise has melted away now that he’s had a moment to think and recollect. His forearms flex as he shifts the plastic bag in his hands to readjust the weight, head almost entirely cocked to the side as he stares at you, brows furrowed in something nearing anger and lips parted ever so slightly, like he might want to think about saying something but can’t quite decide what to say.

Surely they must have told him you’d be here?

“Remus?”

He almost jumps then, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you.

“‘course, Molly.”

His voice echoes in the room after he turns to let her through.

“Here,” Molly says, pulling the bag from your hands before you have a chance to hold on, “Remus’ll take that.”

Remus lets out what you can only describe as an affirmative grunt, just about polite enough for it not to be rude in front of Molly, grabbing your duffel by the strap and swinging it onto his shoulder. He’s gone out the door before you can say another word. 

You press a forced smile onto your lips and move to follow.

“What time will you be back tomorrow, dear?”

Molly’s unassuming tone chips away at you for reasons you can’t explain. 

“Not too late, Molly,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from his back, flashing her what you hope looks like a tired but genuine smile and heading for the door, “Not too late.”

The old farmhouse down the lane from the Burrow is surrounded by overgrown weeds and old rubber tires. Some of the tires are as wide as you are tall, stacked on top of each other with tufts of green and yellow poking through the gaps in the threads.

The walk itself is less than quiet. He stalks in front of you, never closer than about six feet. Doesn’t even look back to check if you’re in tow. Though to be fair, besides actively diving into the brambles and brush that outline the lane, there’s not really anywhere you could go.

Bare wooden planks cover the floors, worn down from decades of use. There’s a simple, wood-burning stove in the corner of the front room, surrounded by stone walls. There are two doors on the back wall, one on the right, and one on the left. Two doors, two bedrooms. 

Two tenants , you remind yourself. 

This is where you live, now. On Gideon’s request, Molly and Arthur have been generous enough to let you stay here free of charge. It’s hard to pay rent when you can’t work. No one’s supposed to know you’re here, either, outside the Prewett-Weasleys.

And Remus Lupin, apparently. 

What the fuck is he doing here? You’ve not heard a word from or about him in years, literal years, and up he pops, like a jack-in-the-box. It’s knocked you for six; you drag your bag across the wooden floor into the room he didn’t stalk into and and sit down on the mattress, and then you just… sit there, staring out into the darkness until your eyes grow used to it and you can begin to see the outline of the handles on the dresser drawers on the opposite side of the room. 

Don’t even know how long it takes you to move, strip, and shuffle under the covers, but by the time you do, your joints are stiff and sore and the first signs of daybreak have begun to push through the thinly woven fabric of the curtains.

Remus must be long gone by the time you wake. It’s unsurprising; judging by how bright the sun is, you’re guessing you’ve slept in. You have a vague memory of almost waking a few hours ago and hearing the sound of rushing water outside. Gideon had mentioned that there wasn’t any indoor plumbing, but the way your nightclothes stick to your skin makes the thought of dousing yourself in a bucket of cold water outside a heavenly fantasy come to life. 

There’s no way to get lost on your way back to the Burrow; the farmhouse is at the end of a dead end, so your feet move on auto pilot. 

There’s shouting in the halls as you step through the open back door, echoing up the stairwells. Moving through the kitchen in shoes you probably should take off, you stick your head through the doorway and almost trip over the two tiny streaks of ginger that run into you as they head around the corner. They land on their bottoms and freeze to a halt with big, brown eyes that peer up at you and just look up, and up, and up until they reach your face. 

You tower over them, a ghastly vision with matted hair and sunken eyes, skin gaunt and discoloured. Moments tick by before you bend down to reach both hands out, one in the direction of either bairn. They blink.

You wiggle your fingers when the bairns don’t move, and something clicks behind their eyes as they heave themselves onto their feet and reach for your hands. Each twin grips two of your fingers tightly as you lead them down the hall, stooped low as they waddle along the tattered carpet in their nappies. You lead the boys through the doorway first, shuffling after them.

Molly stands behind an ironing board, one hand wrapped around a small bundle, the other resting on top of a nearby dresser. Her head darts up when she hears footsteps shuffling along the carpet. 

“Think these belong to you.”

The boys have taken a liking to you. You can’t imagine why. They cling onto your legs the minute you step into the open kitchen door and babble a thousand innocent questions in your direction without cessation.

It’s good. Idle hands make great feeding grounds for nervous breakdowns.

Molly’s got you peeling potatoes by the time Arthur and Remus get back. He’s working as a sort of farmhand, you’ve learned. Though the Weasleys aren’t really farmers, so you’re not sure how that works. But Arthur’s always fancied himself quite the handyman, so odds are he’s got things brewing. Plenty of farmers around these parts anyway, bound to be plenty of work to be done. 

The spuds rest in a net bag in front of you, a muddy brownish colour with green and yellow eyes poking through the gaps in the mesh. Molly’s upstairs trying to give the children a bath. Judging by the shrieks and howls echoing down the stairwell, it’s not going very well.

Molly’s left some record on, some woman warbling out of tune on a track that is ninety-five per cent harp. It’s got you dissociating, hands moving without thought, carving strips of potato skins onto a board in a steady rhythm. Tuber after tuber gets tossed into the pot. The ever-lasting scent of manure from the nearby fields doesn’t agree with your insides yet, and you can taste the bile on your tongue as the smell of starch and water from the skins hit your nose. 

Midsummer months bring heavy air, slick with sweetness and humidity and the type of heat that makes your clothes stick to every crevice and plane of you with sweat. You thought it was just you; just a summer’s day of physical labour in a house with terrible ventilation, but the air that hit your cheeks as you stuck your head out of a window in the stairwell was even warmer than the stale air inside. Right now, in the late evening when the fever breaks and a cool shade begins to descend over the fields, it feels like being let out of a car that’s been left in the sun for too long. Flesh on your cheeks, arms, and legs burning and swollen with warmth, you heave the back door open and inhale deeply through the nose, hand resting on the handle of the door to ground you. 

There’s that smell in the air that you only get in warm, humid places. It settles in your belly and calms your nausea. The bugs don’t even cross your mind. Bugs be damned. The setting sun is painting streaks of orange and pink over the cloudy skies. It feels like a dream, something not quite real, after months of being unable to feel your fingers and toes from piercing frost. For a moment, you feel like the sun could swallow you whole, pick you up and lift you and bring you in on yourself. You’re not sure how long you linger in the doorway; could be a minute, could be half an hour.

Your chores beckon, and you move to sit at the kitchen table. The soft strumming of the harp in the background seems less intrusive now; maybe it’s because the singer hasn’t sung a note in a minute. The pot begins to fill slowly, and your fingers begin to prune. A bead of sweat trickles down your temple but disappears before it can reach your cheek.

“Thought I might find you here.”

Shit. You suck in a sharp breath, droplets of crimson trickling down the crease of your thumb. You stick the throbbing digit in your mouth, wincing at the starch residue from the skins. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him pull a tissue out from a nearby box on the counter. You almost trip on your skirts as you lurch to your feet to grab the handles and heave the pot of potatoes onto the hob, threatening to slosh water all over the chipped tiles in your haste to avoid him trying to give it to you. But he lingers after you, coming up to lean against the counter beside you. 

He’s trying. Somewhere, deep down, you know he’s trying. The fact that he’s even talking to you is something, let alone the tissue hanging limply in his outstretched hand. But you can’t find it in you to pretend that you’re in the mood. Maybe you’re overtired. Maybe… maybe it’s something else. You yank the tissue out of his grasp unceremoniously, avoiding looking at his face and pressing it to your skin after rinsing it in the sink.

“So,” Remus says slowly, quietly feigning nonchalance as you wrap the tissue around your thumb, “what are you doing here, then?”

When he talks, it’s like he’s trying not to speak too loud. Everything sounds like it’s being murmured in your ear. You half expect to feel his breath on your neck. You remind yourself that he’s got some nerve talking to you in the first place. You purse your lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Something changes in Remus’ eyes, then. It’s like you’ve broken some sort of ice.

“If I’ve done something to offend you,” he begins, eyeing you with calculated caution. Like he’s testing the waters. “Or said something…”

“Then I’ll know you haven’t changed,” you supply. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to the kitchen table and he moves, but he doesn’t follow you, instead lingering in the open space of the kitchen floor. He watches as you scrape peelings into the half-full bucket near the stove and grab its handle, almost yanking it off with the force of it. He makes a point of dipping his head slightly and cocking it to the side as you dry your hands aggressively with a fraying kitchen towel so as to better look you straight in the eye. He keeps his eyes on you unapologetically as you pass him, pushing through to the back door to make your way to the garden. 

You can’t tell if he follows you out. You don’t want to turn around to look. You stalk towards the compost heap on the far side of the field, a shabby thing held up by rotting planks of wood, poorly nailed together. Must be Arthur’s handiwork. Everything he lays his hands on begins to tear at the seams as soon as he’s done. He’s got a copy of some DIY manual from 1958 proudly displayed in the sitting room; its spine has almost fully disintegrated and the letters on the front have faded from years opposite a south-facing window, but it remains surrounded by trinkets and charms like a holy book on the mantelpiece. 

Gnats buzz around your ears. You slop the contents of the bucket onto the growing heap and turn, all too quickly, and nearly jump out of your skin when you see him directly in front of you. The bucket clatters dully against the grass as only plastic can, hitting the ground with the edge of its curved lip and bouncing off behind him. 

“Heard you’re living here, now. Permanently”

“Hearing all sorts of things, you are,” you mutter, almost out of breath as you push past him again and stoop to retrieve the bucket. 

He beats you to it, snatching it just out of your reach.

“Something about you needing to get away from something?”

“What do you care.”

Swipe. Miss. 

“Of course I care,” he drawls, walking backwards with quick, hurried steps to stay ahead of you as you move to lunge for the bucket. “What, your folks finally given up on ya?”

“Well you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a nasty thing to say. It’s really nasty. So nasty it makes you feel repulsed that you could even formulate such a thought, let alone choose to say it out loud. Because he was at least partly joking, and there’s no way you can spin it so you don’t look like a horrible, horrible person. His feet stumble as his expression falls, face becoming slack. And in that moment he looks every bit the beautiful, tormented twenty-five year old he is. Golden, freckled skin glows in the setting sun; bright green eyes pained and beaten.

Then he pulls himself together. 

“See you haven’t changed either.”

That’s a bit uncalled for. You’ve never had a go at him because of his parents before, and you don’t appreciate the insinuation. It causes you physical pain that he clocked you on the first try, though. It annoys you. Why is he pretending he knows anything about you? Your skin begins to burn again, and your eyes threaten to puff up like you’ve been stung. 

You snatch the bucket out of his hands and stalk back to the main house. 

He doesn’t follow you back in.

© @aeaean–bliss​; do not copy, repost or translate any of my works.

[estjbeaver]

𝑺𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉

[Tamaki Keigo]

[NSFW]

Reblog | Comment | Enjoy, ig

Warning! Oral sex. Infidelity. Animal-Breeding-Heat-Shit. Tied-up sex. Blindfolded sex. Bottom!Hawks sex. Sex.

You've been dating the number two hero for roughly a year. You knew his tricks. You knew his ways. You were familiar with how he handled certain situations.

Take Springtime, for instance. He barely has any control over his hormones and sometimes gets out of hand. He takes drugs to calm himself, but sometimes it's just not enough. Instincts often take over.

"Hhmm," he started stirring awake. Though he tried opening his eyes, he could still only see darkness. "Huh?"

You had your boundaries and agreed-upon set of rules. The most important one being that he wasn't allowed near any sort of pup, club, or party during his 'heat'.

You simply wanted to keep him guarded from his impulses. To prevent any unwanted incident from happening. But did he always listen? No. He did not.

"Am I being kidnapped?" He asked sleepily with a raspy, morning voice. His feathers tried locating themselves, but his conclusion only confused him more. He was still at home. Only, he was tied up and blindfolded to his own bed.

His senses perked and he noticed that you walked into the room. "H-Hey, kid. What's going on?" He got nothing out of you. "Are we trying something new? Never through you'd be into- ack!" His seductive tone got cut off when you aggressively pulled off his blindfold.

You weren't pleased. You were angry and you were frustrated. Still, you said nothing. Keigo started again with his suggestiveness but ultimately got silence. You walked to the corner of the room and sat down.

"What time is it?" You asked casually.

"I don't know. Eight? Maybe nine?"

Your tongue fiddled in your cheek. "What time is it?" You asked again.

He thought for a moment. He realized what was going on. he regretted everything he'd ever done and even more so not telling you about it.

"Look, kid. I know you're upset but we-"

"What time is it?!" You were growing impatient.

He swallowed thickly. "Springtime."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means I have impulsive desires," you slowly got up and inched closer and closer to him. "And that I can't control my lust."

"Good," your steps were just as slow. The tension suffocated him. "You can't think for yourself and go off goofing around like some manwhore. But luckily for you, I took it upon myself to put down some grown rules. To which you agreed to."

"Kid, I know how this looks-"

"Oh, do you?!" Your voice belted into the room. "Because if you knew how this would look, you wouldn't have broken that one goddamn rule you agreed to!!" You took a deep breath and calmed yourself.

"Was it good?" You asked, finally standing between his tied-up legs. His eyes shot up to pleadingly look into yours. Guilt. He was painted red with it. "Rumi told me you enjoyed it a lot."

"I don't know what Rumi told you, but it didn't go far, I swear! You have to believe me, Kid!"

"If you hadn't gone out it wouldn't have gone anywhere! Just stay home for a week or so until your bird senses die down! Was that too much to ask?!" Your voice cracked, and you took another deep breath.

You sunk to your knees and fiddled with the waistband of his pants. Rather soon after, you were face to face with his boxers. The proximity had his blood flow harden his cock.

With death-glaring eyes you looked up at him. And in the gentles voice you said:

"Now you're here, sitting before me, reeking of alcohol with fucking lip-gloss smeared all over your fucking face."

"I wasn't thinking, I know! It happened so fast, but I got rid of- ngh!" You roughly palmed his dick. "K-Kid, don't do that."

Your movements had his dripping into his boxers. Even they were removed eventually, leaving his cock exposed for only your eyes to see. Slowly, you stood up and blindfolded him again. Softly, you pecked the corner of his mouth.

"I have to," you whispered, returning to your kneeling position. "I have to remind you that I'm the only one that can make you feel good."

Mercilessly you stuffed his cock into your mouth. The familiar taste of his seed played on your tastebuds. His precum leaked onto his shaft. It smoothened your harsh strokes.

You applied pressure with your tongue, sending the bird man to heaven and hell. His eyes were close, enhancing his other senses. His mouth, however, had no reason not to be used. He moaned, groaned, and cried out your name. No nicknames. Your name.

Despite your own cunt leaking with desire, you used your free hand to fiddle with his balls. No matter how much he pleaded with you to go slower and softer, you raced him towards ecstacy.

"Fuck! I'm gonna c-cum- ack!" He almost started shaking. It was an intense orgasm; one he never had before. You dominating him was an arousement he never thought he'd ever experience.

Your figure shifted; he could tell. You stood before him and slowly removed his blindfold. His eyes had to adjust, but then he saw you. You and your sincere expression. "Kid?"

"Don't do that again... okay?" Softly you asked of him. His heart nearly shattered

He didn't want to tell you because he was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of hurting you. He loved you so much that he hated himself for giving in to Rumi's temptations of going to the bar.

You only wanted to protect him. He only wanted to protect you.

He nodded his head, and you untied him. You were still frowning ever so slightly, but his silent promise meant more to you than he could ever imagine. You were heartbroken when you hear about a girl kissing him.

You were done untying him and he rubbed his wrists. You looked at him, feeling all those frustrating emotions. You were still very angry with him, but at least he had his priorities in check.

Passionately, you started kissing him. Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. He kissed back without hesitation. Between breaths he continuously apologized; reminding you of how much he loved you.

He pulled back. He started into your eyes. He said with a chuckle, "Fuck. You should be top more often."

You went back to kissing him. He started taking the lead and got rid of the rest of his and your clothes. Both naked and bare, he broke the kiss for a final time.

He snickered, "My turn."

© all content belongs to estjbeaver '22. do not modify or repost.

Mainstream

Hawks

[sebsxphia]

pushing his buttons.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: maybe you pushed it too far with rhett this time, or maybe he wants something else.

￫ c/w: p in v, rough sex, swearing, blood, rhett and his severe breeding kink, rhett puts his fingers in your mouth, derogatory language towards reader, shouting, argument, it ends in forgiveness and fluff, aftercare.

￫ word count: 2.5K.

￫ a/n: rhett abbott has a breeding kink and i won’t be taking questions. this also stemmed from this post and this wonderful ask, thank you so much my dear anon! <3

Rhett opened the front door and you followed after him, closing the door behind you. He stumbled through the hallway into the kitchen, pinching his bloodied nose with his already blistered, red knuckles. Reaching over for the tattered wash cloth hanging off the edge of the ceramic sink, he soaked it under the tap, hissing when he made contact with his face, the cold water stinging his open wounds.

“I love you and I want you in one piece.” You said firmly, stood in the middle of the dimly lit kitchen.

Rhett leaned against the sink, clicking his tongue, turning around as he threw the damp rag in the basin, “yeah, but he had his fuckin’ hands on you.” He gritted out, southern drawl becoming heavier, puffing his chest out at the thought.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hold your ground, trying to make a point he would listen to. “I want a baby with you, Rhett. But I swear to God, you’ve got nine lives, and you’re on your eighth.”

“He was a fuckin’ asshole! You can’t tell me who I can and can’t-” he raised his voice, taking a step closer towards you, pushing away from the sink.

The way he looked at you, narrowing his eyes with his eyebrows knitted together made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. But yet, you couldn’t help your arousal that you felt drip into your underwear.

“I don’t fucking care! You keep pulling shit like that and you’ll be a no good, washed up fuckin’ rodeo rider.” You snapped quickly.

Too quick.

The words left your mouth before you could register any real meaning that they had against him.

You always felt like the diamond girl with Rhett. The way he would look after and protect you for what you hoped would be forever, but at the back of your mind, it frightened you to death thinking it could be the last time.

He didn’t retort with anything back. No quick witted remark, no insults thrown back at you.

Why wasn’t he say anything?

All that was there was one look in his eyes. He was fucking pissed.

It took him one brawny stride, and he crashed his lips onto yours, biting down onto your bottom lip, making a lewd cry from your gut get lost in his mouth.

You could taste the blood running from his nose and the bitter taste of beer on his tongue as he ran it across your bottom lip and into your mouth. He groaned as you slid your tongue into his mouth, your hands wrapping around his neck, fumbling in the loose strands of curled hair at the base of his neck.

He guided you backwards with a push, until your ass hit the kitchen table. With an instinct pitted at the bottom of your gut, you lifted your legs up to wrap around his waist, hands still holding onto the base of Rhett’s neck.

He moved his hands down, skimming over your breasts and stomach. His rough touch over your body causing your nerve endings to electrify. He brought his hands around your thighs to grip under your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You yelped, but it came out too quiet as he was still running his tongue in your mouth, wanting to taste every inch of you.

It was like he had all but forgotten what it was like to kiss you, and he was trying to remember it desperately.

He lifted you up onto the kitchen table, your legs still tightly locked onto his waist. One hand still resting on your ass, kneading it roughly, he brought his other hand up to your breast, finding and circling your nipple roughly, pulling on it, eliciting a cry that bubbled up through your throat.

You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air, desperate to fill your lungs. Rhett had a way of using his hands and mouth that always made your brain short for oxygen, making you damn near delirious.

Pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned your head to look at him.

“Say that again, I fuckin’ dare you.”

With the breath knocked out of your lungs and the delectable feeling you had pooling in your underwear, you didn’t dare say a fucking thing.

Moving his lips away from yours, he trailed his fervent kisses down your jawline, along your neck and ended along your collarbone. You could feel his teeth sucking into your skin, making lewd noises as he pulled at your flesh, creating bruising marks on your skin.

“I want every fuckin’ man in town to know you’re mine.”

You whimpered, looking down at the sight you saw before your own eyes. His blood smeared down your chest, dipping his head lower, pulling the front of your dress down to expose your already hard nipples. He ran his teeth over them and tugging hard, you cried out.

“What do I have to do? Put a fuckin’ baby in you?” He mumbled lowly, mouth still against your breasts. You felt one of his hands slide in-between your thighs, bunching your dress up higher. His fingers pushed past your panties, gathering the already forming slick in your folds.

“Please, put a baby in me, Rhett Abbott.” You whispered, moaning when you called out his name.

He brought his head up, reaching his hand behind your neck to pull your head up where it was hanging behind you, lost in the fervent touch of his crazed mouth. He looked at you, pupils blown full with carnal desire.

But behind his eyes that were glazed over in ecstasy, and past the now smeared blood running along his top lip, you saw him as he was. A man who was deeply devoted to you, who felt like his soul was on fire when he was with you and a man who would put anyone in the ground if you asked him to.

He wanted to make you the happiest woman on earth with a baby in your belly.

“Gonna let me have you?” He pinched your chin again, bringing you closer to his lips. You nodded in his grasp.

“Gonna let me fill you up? Push it back inside you? Hold you down while you squirm on my cock?” You cried out a pathetic mewl, your eyes looking deep into his, begging him.

Hovering, millimetres away from his cut lip, he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, both of your saliva getting caught together. He reached behind your head and pulled your hair tightly, “I want to hold you close when I fill you up, I want to feel your body shaking and your pretty cunt clenching around me. Got that?” You nodded again in his tight grasp, squeezing your thighs together, trying desperately to release the ache growing deeper in your pussy.

Teasing you close to the brink of death with his tongue, before you could even kiss him, he pushed you down onto the kitchen table, sheer want and need coursing through his veins. He hitched up the end of your dress and knelt down, latching his lips onto your cunt.

Too quick for you to register, you cried out at the feeling of his tongue running harsh circles around your clit, his stubbled jawline pricking the soft flesh of your thighs.

He groaned against your pussy, tasting how sweet you were, knowing it was all for him. He continued to work his tongue against your clit, a hand coming round to grip one of your thighs, his fingertips pressing hard against the flesh, keeping your legs spread for him. You choked out a moan at the painful sensation, mixed with the delectable feeling he was working through in between your thighs.

You felt him smirk against your lips, “go’ keep yo’ open for me.”

You nestled your hands in his hair, tugging at the loose strands. He worked two fingers inside of you, curling up at the right spot deep inside your cunt. It made you feel white-hot. You held on for what felt like dear life as the knot in the lower pit of your belly was twisting tighter, threatening to snap. He could tell you were close, the way your thighs were trembling under his finger tips and how your chest was heaving, trying desperately to gulp down air into your lungs.

“Fuck, Rhett, I’m gonn-”

Sucking on your clit with salacious need, he pressed his fingertips upwards on the right spot, making you cry out. The knot in your stomach snapped and you came, with a harsh buck of your hips into his mouth.

The lewd sounds of Rhett slurping down your cum made you wail. He ran his tongue through your folds like a starved man eating his last meal. You tugged on his hair as he continued to pull you through your orgasm, causing him to groan against your cunt.

Your thighs threatened to crush his skull, the overstimulation setting your nerve endings ablaze. But still, he kept his hand focused on your thigh, keeping your legs apart.

You were at his mercy.

Lapping through the last bits of your arousal, he ran his fingers through your pussy before scandalously putting his fingers in his mouth. He towered over you, holding eye contact that made you squirm underneath him.

He sucked his fingers clean with your cum, before reaching over and stuffing them into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You lapped your tongue around his fingers crudely, tasting a lingering tint of yourself, but mostly tasting Rhett’s spit.

You didn’t break eye contact with him as you ran your tongue over his fingers, making him almost fucking growl, like a feral dog.

His cock was straining dangerously tight against his trousers and he needed to feel your pretty pussy wrapped around his dick, sharpish.

He gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to the end of the kitchen table with a yelp. He reached for his belt buckle and undid it with a satisfying clink. He pulled his hard cock out, practically weeping at the swollen red tip with pre cum.

He spat into his hand before running it along his shaft, grunting at the feeling. You watched him with impending desire, feeling your cunt clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you, filling you up.

He held his cock, pushing the tip through your folds, collecting your pool of arousal that had already seeped through at the sight of him.

“Fuck. I love that you’re always wet for me. Desperate, fuckin’ whore.” A venomous tone hanging off the last word of his sentence.

He moved his cock along your folds again, before sliding in with such ease it brought a smirk to Rhett’s lips. Too focused on the way his cock felt inside of you, you didn’t notice. Your walls clenched around him as he buried himself to the hilt. He hissed at the feeling and loosing all his moral judgement, he set a brutal pace, the table legs scraping against the floor as he held onto your hips, bringing his cock out of you before slamming back into you. Over and over again.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, body squirming at his touch, the feeling of every vein inside your cunt. The sensation of your orgasm from before began to bubble back up again.

You arched your back, bringing your hips closer to his. The change in position made his dick hit the sweet spot, deep in your cunt that made you see stars. You gasped when he rolled it along the soft spot for the fifth time, the feeling becoming too overpowering again, the knot getting tighter, and tighter.

A cry escaped your lips as you felt his cock twitch inside you, telling you he was close. Knowing he was going to spill his cum inside of you and give you a baby made you avid.

Just as he said he would, he pulled you upwards so you were sat up, although still arching your back so you wouldn’t loose the feeling of his cock stretching you out and rubbing against the sweetest spot in your body. He held you close, bringing his head to your neck, running his lips over your flesh with soft kisses, encouraging you along further.

Snaking a hand in between your bodies, he ran his fingers along your clit in messy circles. There was no time from precision, Rhett was a man possessed by you and needed to fill you up desperately.

Your body withered at his touch and you clenched your cunt down harder, the coil resting deep in your abdomen threatening to snap.

“I can feel you, you and your pretty pussy. I’m gonna put a fuckin’ baby in you darlin’.”

Mixed with the cruel feeling of his teeth biting down on the piece of skin between your neck and collarbone, and his laboured strokes of his fingers on your clit, it became too much.

“Shit, I’m gon’, oh god, fuck!” You cried out, your second orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, still riding out the forcible feeling from your first. The coil snapped deep within you and you came down hard on his cock, feeling hot-bloodied as he didn’t let up his thrusts.

The only sounds in the house right now were your lewd moans and cries, and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

It was absolutely sinful.

“You want that? Fuckin’ tell me, tell-” he gripped his thumb and forefinger on your chin, making you look at him through his hooded eyes.

“Gon’ fill you up, fuck.” The last of his words faltering as his hips started to stutter. He gripped onto your thighs, and you could feel his hot cum pouring into you, weeping from the outside of your pussy.

“Please, please, please…” you begged, barely above a whisper, still crashing through your orgasm a frightfully fast pace, as his thrusts didn’t let up. His hips moved in and out of you, desperate to push his cum as deep inside of you as he could get.

His chest was heaving, trying to steady his breathing. A sheen of sweat covering his forehead. You could tell he was coming down from his high, his thrusts starting to get slower.

You rested your foreheads against each other, your breathing laboured. Trying to steady yourself and not fall off the edge of the table, Rhett held you there, brushing the stray hairs from your face, checking you over. Feeling himself soften, he didn’t want to pull out, not yet. He wanted to stay with you here in this moment, for forever if he could.

“I’m sorry. I’ll always take care of you, sweetheart.” He murmured against your head, placing soft kisses along your forehead. Your heart fluttered. He saw the way your face softened, eyebrows turning upwards.

“It’s okay, cowboy.” You replied, looking up at him through your lashes, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

He ran his hands over your breasts, pushing past your sensitive nipples making you mewl.

“You and your tits. Can’t wait to kiss n’ tug on them when you’re full of me.” He said chuckling lowly, running his hand over your stomach. You smiled, deeply in love at the thought of being pregnant with his child.

“I always knew you’d be an incredible father. I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“I know, sweets’.”

He looked down at your chest, noticing some of the blood faintly smeared across your skin. “C’ere. Let me clean you up.” He wrapped his arms around your back, latching your legs around his waist, as he reached below to scoop you up from the table, smacking your ass as he did.

You giggled and nuzzled your face into his neck, taking in his musk of scent left over from the hot summer day. You held onto his shirt as he carried you upstairs. He was the luckiest cowboy in the whole damn universe.

[toomanyfandomsimfanvergent]

oh my god just think about spooning Max after the events of the Upside Down bad things happen and she has a nightmare and you're there to comfort her :((

Max Mayfield x Reader

'She was Safe'

You wake up to the feeling of something moving. You assume Max was getting up or getting comfortable, until you hear whimpering. It must be another one of those stupid nightmares.

You sit up and see her shaking, whimpering, and moving like crazy. You don't hesitate to grab her wrists and then move to start shaking her shoulders. After every night you both spent together, you had gotten used to a routine.

Every few nights, she had one. If someone brought up the Upside Down, she has one. You were the only one who knew she still got them, even after almost two years since Vecna was killed.

After a few seconds of shaking, she jolts awake. There is a thousand emotions hiding in those tearful ocean blue eyes. It broke your heart to see Max this disoriented. She was the strong one. She says had been.

"It's me, Max. It's Yn," you say softly, Max watches you for a second before realizing you aren't going to transform into some monster with nine inch claws.

Once she realizes you are you. She dives into your arms, light sobs leaving her. You hold her tight as she cries into your chest.

The nightmares from the Upside Down never did go away. After everything that Max had been through, it only made sense. For someone who started driving less then a year ago, she had a shit ton of trauma.

"I'm sorry, baby," you whisper and kiss her forehead as she looks up at you. She quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before sitting up. Her face is then buried in the crook of your neck.

She wasn't one to talk after a nightmare. She never had been. Sometimes she would draw out scenes from what she had seen the morning after. Sometimes she would fade away to a shell of a person for a while.

"I love you, so much," Max chokes out between cries. She looks at you with a tear stained face and you wipe away the ones remaining on her cheeks.

She smiles and you swear, that is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. Her smile alone makes this miserable life worth it.

"I love you to babygirl," you say softly and kiss her forehead, "Do you want to try and go back to sleep? Or do you want me to go make some tea?" You ask and she swallows.

"Sleep," she says, her voice almost a whisper. You nod and move to lay down with her. She is still pressed into your chest when you wrap your legs around her. It made her feel safe.

Her arms around your waist, your arms around her shoulder. Nothing could hurt her when you spooned her. Not Vecna, not Demogorgons, not anything.

She lets out a sigh before her breathing slows. After a few minutes, Max is completely out again. You finally decide it's time for you to sleep, now that Max was okay.

You quickly follow her into a peaceful slumber, knowing; she was safe.

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

Requests are open! Check my pinned post for all of the people and fandoms I will write for!

[lunaprincipessa]

ENTRY SEVENTY-FOUR

Despite having a wide range in music taste, there's only a handful of bands that have really stuck with me through the years, getting me through the bad and helping me celebrate the good.

My top three of this handful are Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and Type O Negative.

A couple of days ago, I came across a comment section discussing Peter Steele's death. Something that was said, that was agreed with and emphasized on by multiple people, has been bothering me to my core since I read it.

Many people feel that Peter Steele would still be alive today had he "been with someone who gave a shit."

We might still have him around today "if he had someone who cared enough to get him to the hospital on time."

My heart sank and my stomach dropped after reading this. I immediately logged off. That didn't sit well with me at all.

I then tried looking it up. I felt discouraged and silly, giving up rather quickly. I thought I didn't know how or what, in specific, to search for anyway. I also thought there's a chance that it might not be true, that it's just talk, rumors, that kind of thing.

"Maybe people were just saying that because they don't like her. I have no clue!" Now I'm starting to question myself. I log back on to look for the comment section but everything refreshed and I didn't catch the name of the page that made the post.

True or untrue, the thought alone really fuckin disturbed me. I mean, it really did. He deserved someone to care for who he was outside of the celebrity. I hope to the Gods that those comments weren't true.

Peter Steele, aside from "musical genius" and "one of the most influential," was described to be kind, generous, helpful, supportive, inventive, and a hard worker.

When I'd see interviews with him on TV back in the day, and seeing interviews today when venturing around on YouTube, I found him to be very interesting, intelligent, and insightful. His dark humor was always fun too. And, of course, he was drop dead gorgeous. 🥰😌 The man was a living god, just saying.

Needless to mention the passion in the music he wrote and in the performances he gave (thank you TV and YouTube for letting me experience that by the way, I never got to see Type O Negative live).

He believed showing the world his heart would draw people to the band, and he was right. He said he wanted to be remembered as someone who helped people through hard times, and he is. It makes me sad to know he was sobered up, excited to make more music, and hopeful for the future just before his passing. Gut-wrenching when you think about it, and when you think about all the things he went through before that as well.

Being misunderstood, struggling with addiction, and the mental health issues involving Bipolar disorder, grief, depression, dealing with the aftermath of lockup, and feeling betrayed by his family. He also said himself he had huge problems with abandonment and loss, probably because he experienced those things more than we know.

In addition, being unlucky in love still blows my mind to this day. Especially knowing how he was worshipped by women all over this country, including me. How many of us out here would've worshipped the ground he walked on? And you mean to tell me some of the women that actually had a chance, screwed it up? Considering things like taking the breakups hard and being cheated on, he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, wasn't he? Some souls are just too good for this world, I swear. And his was one of them.

But that's what terrifies me... He was unlucky in love, so what if the comments are true? Literally makes me sick to think about, especially since the band, his childhood friends, tried to reach out to him when he was sick but was only able to speak with her. There's a dark aura all over that.

Someone please tell me it's a rumor, that he had a good woman at his side in those final days. Hearing about toxic exes shows where a person was lost and hurting, and he deserved better. He deserved peace and quiet and comfort. He deserved protection.

Men like this, regardless of how big and tall and strong they are, need to be protected. Their bodies are hard but their hearts are fragile. People that are kind-hearted will often suffer the most in life. The way he loved his women and the way he loved his animals showed he felt everything so, so deeply. He needed to be protected. Yes, men are biologically stronger than we women are, but they need us to protect them too, just in a different way.

My guess is that Peter's spirit is still with us, silently urging us all to never forget about Type O Negative. And we never will. RIP 💔

More thoughts later.

[xxgothbitchfromhellxx]

gerbert fic rec list

alright, kitty’s third fic rec list time! requested by @meowmeowcat759506 just after i had thought of doing one of these for gerbert, which is really fun! love you (platonic) clay <3

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

1. On My Own: sad angsty pre and post break up gerbert

make sure to read all tags! very bwaaahhh and ough!! one shot. 642 words.

♡ 2. Well, We Kiss Like Painted Tigers: Written for a kiss meme prompt: "Bert/Gerard, smeared makeup."

trigger warning for mentions of drugs, alcohol, and addiction! god, i adore this one. one shot. 829 words.

♡ 3. Extent of My Sin: “And I don’t want to think too much about what we should and shouldn’t do.” Originally written June 2005.

trigger warning for drugs and sex! i love this one’s vibe, and it uses nine inch nails lyrics, which is cool! one shot. 2,067 words.

4. Clumsy Heart: The summer Bert and Gerard got together, Gerard was busy falling apart.

contains sex, drugs/alcohol/cigarettes. surprised me by not having a sad ending! has a fun sort of chaotic summer romance vibe to it. gerbert fics actually written in 2000s type time hit different. one shot. 2,266 words.

♡ 5. the confrontation: Bert confronts Gerard and calls him out on, basically, everything.

HOLY SHIT lmao. fighting (verbal and physical), cigarettes and alcohol, minor discussion of body image, f slur, minor nsfw. background past frerard. basically, post-break-up gerbert fight featuring an amalgamation of prorev theories, openly bisexual bert, sad little puppy unrequited love frankie iero, and deeply closeted gay gerard. daily dose of drama for someone who doesn’t leave her house (me). one shot. 7,938 words.

6. your love is my drug: Bert loves mornings like this. Waking up with his boyfriend kissing him sweetly then maybe later, they'll make those awesome waffles or maybe they'll have morning sex or whatever. He fucking loves this.

fluff. contains sexual content and background frikey. really cute!! one shot. 2,004 words.

♡ 7. Blush: Gerard lives in black and white. He’s fine with it. But when he meets Frank, everything changes.

soulmate au, but with a theme of “people can make their own choices about their soulmates.” starts out as frerard, but gerbert is endgame! has sad parts but a very happy ending. featuring background petekey, ashlee simpson (who i adore) and a baby! trigger warning for character death and some sexual content. multi chapter. 9,181 words.

8. Just Ask: Bert has plenty he wants, but doesn't want to ask.

costume party! warnings for sexual content and alcohol, and also for teh fact tha they wear cop costumes, lol. one shot. 4,517 words.

9. Parents’ Weekend: Gerard loves the guy, he really does. Really. But sometimes Bert, bless his heart, just gets things...Wrong. Despite his wonderful intentions.

very cute short thing about bert being nervous to meet gerard’s parents after they’ve been dating for a while. no warnings except swearing, but my blog url currently has a curse word in it, so anyone reading this is probably fine with that, haha! one shot. 483 words.

[p3ski]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3.2K

"You still haven't advised where we are going, Detective".

Gavin weaved through the densely packed streets, trying vainly to ignore his partner's incessant badgering. As happy as it would have made him to 'accidentally' lose Nines in the crowd, Gavin was sure to show some tact when manoeuvring around the pedestrians in his path. Nines showed little of the same consideration, ploughing through like a steam-roller to maintain its close vigil on Gavin. 

Evidently, the android had anticipated that the people around it would react accordingly. Whilst many succeeded in avoiding its path, some were less fortunate, resulting in some shoulder-checking and callously trodden-down feet. 

The detective shrugged in a half-hearted apology to some of the more aggressive-looking recipients but mostly tried to keep his head down, playing off his affiliation with the impertinent android as much as he could. This proved difficult, as Nines seemed hellbent on remaining near-surgically attached to him. 

Despite their closeness in physical proximity, it was clear to Gavin that he was not Nines' primary target of focus. It stared far ahead, back straight and hands clasped behind them, as it scanned the nearby buildings and vendors. Gavin recognised the look from when Connor first started at the DPD, albeit Nines' was far more intense. The android was following a new Primary Directive, and Gavin could hazard a guess what it was:

Feed Gavin Reed and Return To The Station . Or something along those lines.  Discuss Boring Work Shit  was probably on there, too, like a bullshit side-quest for bonus points.

Gavin clenched his fists, increasingly agitated that he had gone along with Tina's asinine plan. In response to this, he pulled out his phone and fired off a few texts:

 

[2:23pm] were going to broncos saturday. 

[2:23pm] shots.

[2:24pm] you owe me for this bullshit. 

 

Not a minute had passed when he received a response, containing nothing but a series of laugh reacts and a giant thumbs up. Gavin scowled down at the screen before his fingers started to move again:

 

[2:25pm]  if mr plastic-fantastic doesnt kill me i swear to god - 

 

"Detective Reed", Nines interrupted before he could finish the message, its voice sterner and more forceful than before.

Gavin flinched at the sudden noise, fumbling desperately as he tried to keep his hold on his phone. When his grip faltered, Nines acted quickly, skillfully reaching out a hand and catching the phone mere inches from the pavement. While he shouldn't have been surprised that a machine would possess lightning-fast reflexes, Gavin couldn't help but be somewhat impressed.

This quiet awe soon faded as Nines straightened up, still holding onto its catch but making no moves to return it. Gavin waited momentarily, trying his best to show some restraint (and knowing full well that there was little point in trying to take the phone by force) before his eyes widened in dismay.

Nines was reading his open chat log.

As it trailed down the screen, it expelled a strange huffing sound, like it was laughing under its breath. Gavin felt his cheeks burn, overcome with a wave of embarrassment. "Don't you know it is fucking impolite to read someone's private messages?".

Nines looked up from the screen, eyebrows raised challengingly. "Don't you know it is fucking impolite to talk about someone behind their back?".

Gavin bristled at the android's unexpected use of profanity. The words would have sounded entirely wrong coming out of its mouth had it not been for the fact that it had decided to mimic Gavin's tone. 

No, more than mimicry, it had literally stole the words from Gavin's mouth. A perfect replica of his voice. He stepped back, eyeing the android suspiciously.  Since when can it do that?

Despite the fact Nines was clearly enjoying his reaction, it did ultimately relent in its teasing. Pressing the power button on Gavin's phone, the screen quickly blacked out, preserving what was left of its partner's privacy. It then held the phone to him in invitation. "A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed".

Gavin glared back at it bitterly. Yeah. Thanks for scaring the shit out of me and almost making me drop my phone in the first place. You self-obsessed, self-entitled, self-serving piece of - 

"Thanks, I guess", Gavin managed to mumble out, snatching the phone back from Nines, teeth gritted the entire time.

Gavin strode forward a few more paces, refusing to look back at his partner, before making a bee-line down a back alley. Nines was quick to follow him, and not five seconds of silence had passed before it was pestering him once again. 

"Your refusal to inform me of our destination is growing tiresome, Detective".

" God,  would you crawl out of my ass ?" Gavin snapped back in agitation, "What's it matter to you, anyway? You're not even the one who's eating".

"In order that I may route myself correctly, I require a conclusive destination. Unlike humans, I find it incredibly difficult to 'wander aimlessly' for extended periods".

"We are going to get the best food in town", Gavin grumbled vaguely before motioning his hand towards Nines. "Use your little scanner thing to work it out". 

Nines eyelids started to flicker, the way they usually did when it was processing a lot of information. After a moment of contemplation, it hummed loudly before nodding its head in acknowledgement:

"I should have known that you were a man of a refined palate. No doubt such a fine-dining establishment will be exceedingly busy. Perhaps we should have booked a table".

Gavin scowled, knowing full well that the machine was messing with him. The sarcasm dripping from its synthetic voice was hardly subtle. "It's a food truck, not a restaurant, smartass. One of Detroit's great hidden gems," he pointed a thumb to himself before puffing out his chest proudly. "Almost no one knows about it except for me".

Rounding the corner, they finally reached Gavin's desired destination. As he took in the familiar glow of the large 'Chicken Feed' sign, Gavin felt himself begin to salivate. With cautious optimism, he wondered whether Nines may be slightly more tolerable after he'd eaten -

"I believe this is where Lieutenant Anderson likes to take Connor", Nines announced, sounding exceptionally pleased with itself as it did. "Not quite as much of a hidden gem as you seem to think".

- or maybe not.

"Yeah, well, maybe the old prick has some taste", Gavin defended, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You wouldn't guess by how he dresses".

They approached the counter, and Gavin was met with a familiar grin from the food truck's owner. After wiping his hands on his dirtied apron, the man extended one forwards, inviting Gavin to shake. "Detective Reed, it's been a few days. How's it going?".

Gavin took the hand, trying to smile back despite his increasingly foul mood. "Same shit, different day. You know how it is," He glanced pointedly to his side as he said this before quickly turning his attention back to the vendor. "What about you, Gary? How's business?".

"Ehh, slow as usual, but I can't really complain" Gary let out a gracious laugh, using his free hand to smack Gavin on the shoulder. "As long as you hungry fucks at the DPD keep comin', I'll be able to pay the bills".

There was a shuffling at the other end of the van, and Gary craned his head forward to see what it was. Gavin turned around despairingly to see Nines with its face held inches from the stickers on Gary's window. Its lips were curled downwards in disapproval, growing in severity the longer it stared. 

"Hey, Connor, I didn't see you there", Gary called out. "Weird to see you without Ha -"

Nines snapped its head around, and Gary stalled almost immediately. His face drained of colour, and his throat bobbed with a low gulp "Sorry buddy, I thought you were someone else". 

"Indeed", Nines confirmed, nodding curtly. "I believe you are mistaking me for my brother. I am RK900: RK800's successor and superior model". 

Gavin resisted the temptation to crawl into one of Gary's deep fryers and boil himself alive "Don't mind this one. It's reeeal full of itself".

"Your food hygiene license is expired", Nines continued, barely registering that Gavin had spoken, "I believe RK800 has also made you aware of this". 

"Right, uh, yeah", Gary stuttered dumbly, hesitating for a moment before clearing his throat. "You know, we got some of that Thirium-based soda if you want to try some? On the house". 

"I would have to decline. Even if your establishment were up to code, I see little point in mimicking human consumption patterns".

"Seriously, just ignore it", Gavin insisted. I wish I could. "I'll have the usual - and throw in some fries and a soda. I'm fucking starving".

"You got it" Gary tore his focus away from Nines and turned his back to start working on Gavin's order.

Nines continued to study the van, making strange disgruntled noises as it did so. With a deep breath, Gavin marched forward and grabbed the android, pulling it by the shoulder and forcing it to face him. 

"Will you fuckin' stop that?" He hissed angrily, "You keep this shit up, and you're going to cost me my discount, asshole". 

"I fail to understand why you would wish to eat here", Nines ran a finger along the brim of the truck's window before placing the digit into its mouth. Its LED flickered from yellow to red as it analysed the data, nose crinkling in disgust. "Unless you wish to subject yourself to severe gastrointestinal issues". 

"I ain't gotten sick from here once, smart guy, so shows what you know" Gavin jabbed a finger towards Nines but stopped shy of actual contact. "I don't need my food all prissy and perfect. Sometimes a slab of greasy cow flesh is just what the doctor ordered".

Nines rolled its eyes, smacking Gavin's hand away. "I can assure you no trained medical professional would ever recommend that. I must also inform you that several food trucks within the 2-mile radius would provide you with food of a similar calibre. Whilst also upholding basic hygiene standards". 

"XL Cheeseburger with Large Fries and Soda!" Gary shouted out behind them, abruptly ending the debate. 

Gavin broke out into a grin, rubbing his palms together in delight. He turned around, paying for his food on the nearest card reader, as well as sliding Gary a folded-up envelope from inside his jacket pocket. "Thanks, man'. 

Gavin walked over to a nearby table, and Nines followed suit, marching beside him. It leant over, uncomfortably close, and spoke into Gavin's ear, "What was that envelope you handed over?". 

"None of your business".

"I would hope that you were not engaging in any illegal activities. Given your position, it would be highly inappropriate".

Gavin winced at the chiding, craning his head away from Nines, "I said it's none of your business. So drop it. Let's just sit down so I can eat my lunch". 

The two sat at a nearby table, and Gavin wasted no time opening the cardboard box containing his burger. Grasping his food in both hands, he allowed himself to indulge in the sight of the oozing cheese and fried meat before slowly bringing it to his lips -

"This may be a good opportunity to review what we know about the case so far".

Gavin closed his mouth with a sigh, jaw locking in discontent. "Did Cyberlife fit you with a mute button? Because now would be an excellent time to use it". 

Nines frowned. "You previously advised that you would be happy to discuss the investigation". 

"Yeah, well -" Gavin let out an annoyed grunt, squeezing his burger with enough ferocity that the cheese began dripping onto the table. "Just let me eat first. It's called a break for a reason, numbnuts". 

Nines took a moment to deliberate on this, its LED spinning yellow, before slowly nodding, "Very well. I'll allow you a moment to enjoy your...food". 

Gavin didn't need to be told twice. He bit into his burger, speckles of grease flying out and dotting the corners of his mouth. As the familiar flavours assaulted his tastebuds, he closed his eyes and moaned shamelessly, his mood immediately uplifted. 

Reaching out for his drink, he took a long swig, barely stopping to take a breath before shovelling down a fistful of fries. Nines withered, which amused Gavin greatly.

The fact that Nines - of all androids - would be squeamish about anything was utterly hilarious to him. Feeling petty, he went out of his way to gross it out as much as possible, seldom closing his mouth as he chewed, resulting in a series of loud smacking noises.

"So I was thinking about what you said the other day", Gavin spoke through his food, spitting crumbs towards Nines, who promptly flicked them away. "About cooperation in partnerships". 

"Were you really", Nines said back, sounding unusually subdued. 

"If we want to get through this without murdering each other, it might be worth trying to get to know each other a bit".

Nines stilled momentarily before tilting its gaze up to Gavin, steely eyes dark with suspicion, "You've made your position on androids rather clear. I doubt you'd find any aspect of my personal life particularly interesting". 

"I know you get a raging hard-on from being all mysterious, but there are actually a few things I'm curious about", Gavin pressed on. 

"Such as?" 

Gavin considered bringing up their earlier conversation but quickly decided against it. He was slightly terrified of how Nines might react if he dared to 'broach the subject' again. At least so soon. 

While he understood that the whole goal of the 'lunch date' was for him and his partner to bond – or at the very least, to surpass the point of homicidal hatred – Nines' unexpected outburst had left him more than a little on edge.

There had been something in the android's eyes when Gavin had talked about its deviancy. Like a dormant anger that quietly festered, ready to boil over. At the same time, it had appeared almost...sad. Its voice had been utterly wrecked, with odd shakes broken up by small waves of static. As if it were in a tremendous amount of pain. 

Which was ridiculous, of course. 

Androids did not feel pain. Least of all Nines.

"A minute ago, you called Connor your brother" Gavin felt a stream of grease dribbling down his chin. He wiped it callously with his sleeve before continuing, "What's that shit all about?".

Nines winced. Whether from Gavin's question or his poor table manners was unclear "Another question, perhaps". 

"Oh my god, you're fucking impossible " Gavin was just about ready to throw in the towel, giving up before he had even started. "You know, this would be a damn sight easier if you were willing to meet me halfway. You were the one that said we needed to 'cooperate', and so far, you are doing a pretty shit job at setting an example". 

Nines looked intensely displeased at this. It clearly did not appreciate its own logic being used against it. "RK800 is my brother. In a sense," it relented, mouth taut and brow furrowed, "Since I was freed, himself and Lieutenant Anderson have shown me a great deal of kindness, and for that, I am indebted". 

Gavin raised an eyebrow, "So what, Hank has adopted you too? Swear that guy is collecting androids like their goddamn trading cards".

"I'd rather you didn't phrase it like that. It makes the arrangement sound incredibly juvenile," Nines chastised, "I live independently, but I am frequently invited to join them for evenings and weekends" Nines looked down at the table, tracing the wood with one of its fingers. "I suppose it can be enjoyable. On occasion".

Gavin stared back at the android, utterly floored that it seemed to be opening up to him. Even if only a tiny amount, "Fuck, guess it must be nice. Kind of wish my family was like that".

"Do you have any siblings?". 

Gavin scowled at the question, feeling an unpleasant heat rise in his throat. He considered deflecting the question but realised how much of a hypocrite that would make him - given the context.

"One. A brother".

Nines had piqued up at Gavin's shift in tone. It seemed genuinely curious. "I take it you don't get on well?".

"I don't get on with my family. Period", Gavin answered back, words undercut by a low, bitter laugh. "After my mom remarried, I never seemed to fit into the picture. My brother was just fine, sucking up to my stepdad like it was an Olympic sport. But me? I was always in the way. The black fucking sheep". 

"I see", Nines said quietly. Its mouth opened before quickly closing. As if uncertain what else to say, "What about your relationship with your biological father?". 

"He's gone. Died of cancer when I was 13". 

Nines LED shot to red almost instantly. The conversation had clearly drifted outside of the machine's emotional depth. Despite all its claimed 'improvements' over its successor, it lacked many of Connor's more valuable skills. Namely, the ability to empathise. 

"I imagine that would have been a distressing experience," It spoke matter-of-factly, its tone utterly devoid of compassion. "It is unfortunate that it happened to you". 

"If that's your way of saying 'I'm sorry', fucking save it" Gavin stood up from the table, dusting the crumbs off his jeans. "I turned out just fine". 

"If you insist".

"Okay: Tip Number One for human bonding" He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and his lighter. "If you're trying to get on with someone, you don't fucking insult them. Especially after they've just opened up about something personal. Got it?".

Gavin placed a cigarette into his mouth - before bringing the lighter to his lips. Igniting the flame, he watched as the tobacco began to heat and slowly burn away, satisfied. 

Nines also stood up, gathering up Gavin's trash as it did so. It disposed of it all in a nearby can before shooting the detective a peculiar glance. "For a man who appears to be in relatively good physical condition, you employ many unhealthy lifestyle choices. I would consider yourself lucky that it hasn't had greater health ramifications".

Gavin chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette and exhaling slowly. He stared at the sky, watching as a series of black clouds began to roll in. It left him with a strange sense of melancholy. One he couldn't quite place. "We're all gonna die. Some sooner than others. We may as well enjoy ourselves". 

Nines didn't say anything to this, but Gavin could sense its eyes were on him. Fixed and intense, always observing. Gavin idly wondered what it might be thinking about. 

"Are you satisfied with your break?". 

That was, if it was thinking about anything, really. Other than its directive. 

Sighing, Gavin finished his smoke with a final puff - before stomping the butt out on the ground. "Yeah, guess I am. Just need to make a quick detour home". 

"You have almost exhausted the hour that Captain Fowler permits for lunch", Nines informed him sternly. "Factoring in the distance by foot, we should be heading back to the station". 

"Don't get your wires in a twist. My place is on route back to the station," Gavin insisted, feeling raindrops begin to fall on his shoulders. "It won't take a minute. Scouts honour".

[bamboozled-distress]

back in the car seat with unmistakeable feelings

Summary: the marauders and etc are carpooling and as they realize they've got too many people and sirius and remus do any two platonic bros would do

warnings: swearing, remus giving top energy, sirius bottom energy, bros being gay, murderous threats, but its /j, james accidentally setting up remus and sirius, horny, sexual stuff but like not explicit, just sirius being a slut on main, slut for his bro moony, mentioning of testosterone, them all being british

A/N: okay this is my first fic for the mauraders !! and this is based on this tiktok and wrote this in one hour and its 2am and I have class tmrw and full credits to @/ireneatyd on tiktok for the inspo !!!!! <3

Sirius was going to kill James figuratively and literally.

If he could get his hands on James he would be dead, because they are in fact supposed to be on the way to their bi-weekly arcade meet-up but instead he insisted on the matter of taking not only Lily but Alice as well. This would all be fine if James had an actual van but no James had a shitty five-seater impala.

This would all be fine if it was big enough for them all to squeeze however that was not the case and fucking hell someone was going to have to sit on someones lap.

For this reason Sirius Orion Black is a stupid idiot who says things and does things without doing the simple act of thinking.

He was sat in the corner while everyone was trying to fit themselves inside because god be dammed he will never sit inside the middle and would much rather get the window seat. Lily and Alice had fit themselves quite snugly right beside Sirius with Peter and dear old fucking Prongs driving them all to his certain doom. Having just driven to Remus' record store job he was unknown of their current situation. When he walked to them with a beige jumper and a book in hand, his chocolate orbs instantly found Sirius' and his lips morphed into a slight frown.

"Fuck, theres no place to sit."

And to this the smartass Sirius-heavily-crushing-on-remus-Black looked up at the rather tall lad and with a certain glint in his eyes and with his signature smirk on display he spoke nine words he knew he was going to regret.

"My knees are always an open seat for you."

Remus instantly raised his eyebrows with a playful look on his face, "getting a bit illegal now are we?"

Sirius instinctively spread out his legs as much as he could and stretched his left arm around Alice's seat and shrugged, "was only offering, moons."

"Well seeing as its either that or sit by someones feet I'll take the first option as the second is usually your job, pads."

Sirius half-expecting Remus to object his offer gulped as he saw Remus go around and open the door to his side as he scanned his long legs of perfection towards his freckled sun-kissed face.

There was a certain mantra of 'oh fuck' going through the black-haired fellow's head as remus held on to the edge of the car and leaned toward Sirius face as he was hoping, praying that his blush was not noticeable.

"So how are we doing this.. you on one leg, both legs straddling me back to chest? or possibly chest to chest?"

Instead of an answer Remus began to make his way over towards his thighs with a tight grip on Sirius' shoulder. As Remus allowed his right leg on top of Sirius left leg and his left on remus right, and while doing this he with a slight smile was avoiding eye contact.

'The fucker' Sirius had thought.

All of this has led Sirius to his current position and frankly wanting to murder James Fleamont Potter with his bare hands because holy fucking shit Remus John Lupin was straddling him when he simply meant it as a poor excuse of a joke. He was facing him sat multiple inches away from his crotch almost resting his arse on Sirius' knees.

Once Remus was fully sat after shifting and Sirius trying not to scream as he was doing so internally, Remus finally looked up to him and spoke with clarity in his voice.

"I think this seems alright? for stability and also so I dont quite crush your leg."

"If I ever died with you crushing my leg rem, I'd die a happy man."

"Don't think James would be too happy though, some lad dead in the back of his oh so precious baby."

Hearing a slight 'fuck off' from the drivers seat made them both snicker as Sirius had no idea where to quite put his hands as his heart was screaming 'Remus' thighs' but his head was quite empty knowing just how close Remus was to his everywhere.

As if on cue because for some god forsaken reason James had it out for Sirius he started driving and as he started reversing Sirius saw remus for the moment not holding onto anything and went to hold his hips so he wouldn't fall. After the initial shock of it was over Sirius instantly moved his hands away and left it at his sides as he got wide eyed.

"shit, sorry moons. fucking James."

Remus then held on to his shoulders tighter than before and moved a bit closer which made Sirius just a wee bit nervous, "you're good, don't worry about it, love."

Jesus fucking christ Sirius could die at that moment and he would die a happy man, although he knew Remus called everyone love and called him love a few times as well. But, with how low his voice had gotten he quite possibly had gotten a small boner. With him noticing this and wanting to change the subject he spoke.

"Dude holy shit, testosterone really is making your voice pretty deep."

Remus practically beamed at the mention of the effect of the testosterone he was taking and seeing that, Sirius felt a small smile on his lips.

"you think so? I haven't really noticed but really?"

"yeah moons, its getting way deeper when you said that I could really notice."

Remus had a shy smile on display and Sirius could tell how much that meant to him and how euphoric it made him which to that, Sirius gave a small smile back.

Sirius felt his arse falling asleep and needed to shift a bit because it was getting a bit uncomfortable.

Seeing that they were at a red light he shifted a bit which Remus tilted his head to the side about.

"are you alright over there."

Sirius looked down a bit, "er yeah, my arse is asleep and I just need to like move a bit."

Remus made a slight 'oh' shape with his lips and grabbed the head rest with his arms on the sides of Sirius's head, as he lifted himself up. And when Sirius felt a loss of contact and looked up at him with an intensity he couldn't deny he adored, he looked down at Sirius.

"c'mon lift up your hips love."

At that single moment not only did Sirius do exactly what Remus said but he was 100% positive that he had a boner.

He sat back down and was now painfully aware of his boner while Remus plopped on his lap right before the light turned green and James decided right then and there to drive faster which led remus a bit closer to Sirius crotch.

Then as if on cue because the universe seems to hate Sirius, James took a sharp turn which made Remus swerve a bit to his left with his thigh slightly touching his crotch and Sirius simply wished he could just implode. With the swerve Remus held on tighter to Sirius' shoulder and Sirius can now say with certainty that he is now painfully hard.

Oh so painfully hard.

Remus now looked at Sirius with a full smirk on his face and Sirius felt like he was in a slight trance. The one thing that got him out of said trance was a speed bump that James did not fucking see so Remus bumped up and down on his lap and Sirius wants to die right fucking now to end this torture that his poor soul does not deserve whatsoever.

He heard Remus mutter a few cuss-words and was blessed to know that they were almost at their destination, but that feeling went away quite fast as he saw remus look down at his lap.

Where his crotch seems to be.

Where he was painfully hard.

Which was quite visible to the eye.

More specifically to Remus' eye.

"Seems like you need a little help over there?"

Knowing all sense has been thrown out the window and he is hornier than he thought was possible his response was, "care to volunteer?"

"should ask me out to dinner first siri."

Sirius was utterly flabbergasted, because he could ask him out? He was much too horny for complete thoughts to form and for him to think logically that Remus is obviously joking.

"I can do that?"

As they found their parking spot and Remus was about to open the door he said a single of nine words he hoped Remus wouldn't regret.

"with those manners, would be hard to say no."

With that Remus left the car and his lap, taking Sirius' dignity right with him.

[chiidori-i]

Stellaron Hunters! NSFW Headcanons

These are some raunchy headcanons for the stellaron hunters! Pairings: kafka X gn! reader, blade x gn reader!

CW! Mentions of blood and knives, degrading (heavy in blades part) Author's note: THIS IS UNHOLYYYYYYYYYYY-V !Kafka! - lord jesus you better pray for your insides - a hard top for sure (dommy mommy meow) - will use her domination skill on you (of you're okay with that consent is key) -whispers the foulest things in your ear while she's fucking you -call her mommy its game over, you're gonna experience heaven - has long ass fingers and WHOSE COMPLAINING? - big into knife play and will ask you about it - honestly prefers to use her fingers over her strap, she said something about "feeling you around her" -LIVES for fucking you right after a mission, so much adrenaline so little time - if she chooses to use her strap rest in peace your guts cause they're about to get rearranged -she fucks HARD and will not go any slower, doesn't matter how much you beg

-after care queen, will cuddle you for as long as you want, you want snacks? water? a bath? easy! she'll get it for you anything for her cutie! will 100% take a bath with you and clean you up perfectly, she loves you soooooo much and wants to make sure you're content

"k-kafka!" youre pleading with her to slow down even a little bit but your pleas fall on deaf ears "awh something wrong pretty? i thought you loved it when i fuck you like this" with that kafka just keeps going harder. "pl-ease i- cant! too much" kafka leans over you, grabs your chin and makes you look her in the eyes "you know how to ask for what you want now ask me correctly this time cutie." she purrs "please mommy! make me cum please! ill be good i-i swear!" you look at her pleadingly with teary eyes "what good manners you have baby, just relax while mommy makes you cum"

!Blade! - i have one word and that word is RUN - lemme jus say this man will hunt you like prey and when he catches you don't think for a second you'll be walking for at least a day - HEAVY into blood kinks and knifeplay -you know that song by nine inch nails well uh blade makes that song a reality -incredibly hard top refuses to bottom AT ALL (he has issues okay) - loves loves LOVES marking you up! bites, scratches, cuts, bruises on your hips or neck from how tight he was gripping your skin, man lives for ALL of it and will totally laugh whenever you try to cover any of them up -will say the most obscene things while fucking you does not care whatsoever he has zero shame (god bless) -will lose his mind if you ask him to tie you up, you mention it at any point and he's ready to go - will degrade you and is MEAN about it like i said he has zero shame so expect to be called a slut, whore, bitch, cocksleeve, ya know all that jazz ;) -if you ride him just know because he's underneath you doesn't mean SHIT he will bounce you on his dick like a ragdoll, you're his toy after all! -doesn't tolerate brats at all, you will get back handed if you disobey him and he will NOT let you cum for at least a few hours you can cry, beg, plead, hell even scream and you'll get nowhere you'll take what he gives you and he better not hear one complaint. - surprisingly good at aftercare, sure he might be a bit cold but he loves you you're his angel he would do anything for you, you want cuddles? he'll provide (he may act like he hates it but who is he fooling really?). will play with your hair and give you all the kisses you need while cleaning you up <3 (FUCK I LOVE THIS MANNN) "awh does my little whore wanna cum?" he purrs looking down at you, your legs are currently on his shoulders and the pace he's fucking you at is almost inhuman. "bla-de!" is really all you can manage to breathe out your mind is completely hazed by pure lust. "Awh don't tell me i've fucked you dumb already sweetheart? I'm just getting started" his hands grip your thighs even harder so hard you know they'll bruise (that's his main goal :>) "if you wanna cum you better start begging, now c'mon scream for me"