#i've had this tumblr is freshman year of high school

[lunatic-pudge]

Heavy SFW Alphabet

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Didn't mean to take a month break on these, but oh well. Am slowly working on some requests I got, I'm a super bad procrastinator, so plz bear with me. Now I gotta figure out if I wanna do Spy or Soldier next. I'll figure it out in a few days when my brain let's me.

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A: Affection (How do they show affection? And how affectionate are they?)

Now with Heavy, I'd say he's the least affectionate of all the mercs. Like, yeah, he's gonna love on his S/O, but he tends to be a more reserved person. He's definitely a no PDA type of guy, a simple hug is fine, BUT IF YOU DARE TO TRY TO GIVE HIM A SMOOCH he'd be so flustered. He likes to keep the lovins behind closed doors

B: Best Friend (What would they be like a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Definitely a loyal bestie. Can see him wearing friendship bracelets with Medic tbh. Befriending him takes a while though cause he just prefers to stick to himself. He's like Sniper where you two could sit in silence and just vibe together. He's a very good friend to have. Ready to protect and he there for you

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Big man do be loving a good cuddle, but only when it's you two. He'd let you lay on top of him, nuzzling up against his S/O, enjoying each other's presence. I'm sure with enough convincing, he'll let you be the big spoon, but for a price ;)

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking & cleaning?)

Another fellow house husband. Makes some of the best food ever and will take care of the house and let you relax. He won't hesitate to tightly wrap you up in a blanket burrito, unable to escape, just to get you to relax

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He quick and to the point. Doesn't like having to dance around the topic. Why prolong it and make things worse? He's pretty good at handling breakups, he knows that sometimes things don't work out and you gotta learn to move on

F: Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Loves the idea of getting married to his S/O but would wanna wait until his days are over. He doesn't wanna rush things though, preferring to take his time.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Tries to be gentle but it's hard to be gentle when you're a big guy like Heavy. He's better at being gentle emotionally, rather than physically. He's had a rough childhood, so he understands the struggle. He will let you cry it all out if you need to

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Likes a good hug when it's from someone he's comfortable with (family, Medic, S/O). Hugs from anyone else makes him SUPER uncomfortable. Def has the best hugs and I will fight anyone who disagrees. He's big, comfy, and WARM

I: I Love You (How fast do they say the L-Word?)

I feel like he'd be too shy to say I love you first. While he tries to be upfront with everything, saying I love you is such deep, intimate thing to say. He doesn't wanna rush it, but you bet your ass he'll be so happy to hear you say it first.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Heavy? Jealous? Absolutely, not. This man has nothing to be jealous about. When he's with his S/O, he trusts them 110%. He knows he has nothing to worry about. And even then, why would you want someone else? Heavy is a big, burly man with cuddles for days! Why would you EVER wanna settle for less?

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Homie's got them lil' gentle and delicate kisses. He tries to be as gentle as he can with kisses and I'm here for it. Loves giving his S/O forhead kisses.

L: Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

He loves kids, but he's worried about hurting them by accident. He's a big guy, and kids are small, fraglie, and crazy. Kids are feral with him, constanly trying to climb him and asking if he's a giant. He would absolutely make a great dad though. First, picture him cuddling with a baby. Got it? Good now picture him having a daughter and having a tea party with her. He'd be sitting at a tiny table, wearing a tiara and pink tutu as his daughter serves him tea, telling him some juicy "drama". I love it. Make it a real thing plz

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Man's got a strict morning and night schedule, and would like if you followed it as well. He gets up early, one of the first to get up probably. Showers, eats, prepares for the day, standard stuff. Rarely does he allow himself to sleep in or have a lazy day. There's always something to do

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Tries to go to sleep at a reasonable time. He ain't a night owl. He likes to read before going to bed, helps him to relax. Likes to be snuggled up with his S/O as well. Probably owns a C-PAP

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait awhile to reveal things slowly?)

I'd say it takes him some time. He does love talking about his Mother and sisters though. He's got some funny stories about his sisters. But he doesn't like talking about his dad and certain past events. He did have a rough upbringing after all. And it can be hard to talk about so just give him time, he'll slowly come around

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Man's got hella lots of patience. It takes so much to make him angry. The only thing that can get on his nerves quicker than most is dealing with certain (Scout) mercs. But to be fair, Scout knows how to get on everyone's nerves

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I'd say he's got a pretty good memory on him, he's just gotta remember the right words to say. He might forget some little, slightly random details though but it's hard to be mad at him

R: Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

You, him, a good book, and a giant blanket wrapped around you both. You both are snuggled up together, soaking up each other's warmth. He reads the book to you, his deep voice lulling you to sleep. Heavy loves these moments between you two. Where he gets to be snuggled up with you, holding you in his arms, keeping you safe.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Definitely a protective bear. Will do WHATEVER he can to keep you safe. If he can't be there to keep you safe, he will have Medic there in his place. And then he'll have Medic give constant updates on you. Poor thing just wants to keep you safe. Sometimes he can be a little too overprotective at times

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

He tries in his own special ways. He likes having dates at home. He sees it as a more intimate setting. He'd write you cute little poems expressing how much he loves you. He would have everything taken care of and won't let you even lift a finger to help out

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

The only bad habit I can think of is his habit of being cold and distant. He tends to keep things to himself. Poor baby isn't use to having someone there to talk to and just vent to. But it's a bad habit that can be fixed over time

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Honestly, I don't think he's too worried about his looks. I'm sure he does have some small image issues cause he's always getting called fat by other mercs. He's moreso built like a hippo. They look like they're these fat, lazy creatures but they're actually pure muscle and will tear anyone and anything to shreds

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Meh, he'd be fine if he has to go without you for a while or the relationship ends. He's an independent man who's been through hell and back. He can handle being away from his S/O for whatever reason

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

God, you know there's so much more to this man. He just doesn't show it. Well, you can kinda see it out on the battlefield and I bet it can be seen when he's drunk too. But he's also not much of an alcohol guy. He'll drink every now and then but it's just not something he cares about. Also, Medic's the unoffical third wheel and your guys' relationship. He's just kinda there. Think of him as your child. Now imagine the three of you in a cuddle pile, fighting for who gets to lay on Heavy. Heavy ends up having to decide and obviously he chooses you, sorry Medic

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like loud, cocky people. He needs someone who's more on the chill side. Yeah, those types of people and be fun to watch and hang out with every now and then, but it can get tiring to deal with. So someone who's more introverted is the type of person for him

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Again, he tries to maintain a strict sleep schedule. Go to bed early and wake up early. Definitely a fellow sleep apnea buddy so sleeping sucks sometimes. Cuddles are a must during bedtime though, or else >:(

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#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 heavy x reader #i'm watching a video about daniel larson and it hurts my soul #i also gotta sneeze #i have some extra surprises after i finish soldier and spy #so plz stay tuned #also i'm sorry i'm taking so long with requests #you're allowed to yell at me #bro this is my 4000th post #i've had this tumblr is freshman year of high school #if i'm correct

[deandoesthingstome]

Holiday Angel

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18K; Um. You’re welcome? Get some snacks and water.

@fvckinghenrycavill asked nicely, so I'm releasing this earlier than planned. Also, I think @mayloma might be waiting patiently?

Warnings: age difference (m 40′s, f 20′s; it’s your best friend’s dad for god’s sake), mention of cheating, mention of phone sex, masturbation (f), light!dom (m)/sub (f), praise kink, lingerie, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v sex in various positions, protected sex, light bondage, spanking and ass play; if this doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, I won’t be offended if you scroll on by

A/N: Let's be clear: I've only seen MI:Fallout once. I really only know August from Tumblr. This is an AU, where he is not a traitorous anarchist. I also am not comfortable writing a strict dom, so please take a softer August than you may be used too. Additionally, you are a US college Junior in this story (21-ish). Don't worry, I'm not 21 either. Trust me. It's okay. This is a fantasy.

I've also been extremely self-indulgent here. You're gonna see some names you might recognize. You might wonder what college you go to, where in the US you are, or what year it is. I have taken many liberties. Please absolutely enjoy them. (And if anyone was following along with this post, you may notice a scene change. Trying out my inclusivity options.)

And I have a Spotify playlist I used for various scene inspiration if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker (could anyone really tie him down?), but I do own these words and this story. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header by me. Dividers by the ever wonderful and giving @firefly-graphics.

You dropped the Blue Book for your last final on Professor Marshall's desk and skipped out of the room with glee, suppressing the urge to turn back and grab one more mental image of the grumpy professor for the road.

Christmas break was officially on!

Gemma was waiting in the loading zone outside McKinney Hall, her brand new Audi packed with both your bags and ready for the five hour road trip home.

"Bitch, what took you so long?" she teased, knowing you were actually a little early. You had breezed through the test and ran back to the dorms to meet her. She handed you your favorite iced coffee indulgence, a special treat for making it through the week.

"Let's hit it!" you shouted, turning up the volume on the Spotify playlist Gemma had primed and ready to go.

You swapped driving duties halfway, stopping at a drive-thru to grab french fries to supplement the cut fruit and snacks you packed for the trip.

"God, I am craving salt right now!" Gemma exclaimed.

"Auntie on the way?" you sympathized.

"Yesss," Gemma groaned. "And Mikey wants to meet up first thing when he flies in on Sunday. God I hope she gets lost on the way!"

"How's that been going? Long distance and all."

You were glad you and Gemma had decided NOT to room together again after the fiascos of Freshman and Sophomore year. It was only through the saving grace of several grueling classes that kept you library or study group bound for a good portion of the time that you had been able to overcome the petty drama.

It was Gemma's father who had actually suggested she move off campus alone this year and you were pleased to find a lighter class load that allowed you to spend more quality time with your childhood best friend without wanting to rip her face off every five minutes. He was so wise, that Mr. Walker.

But living apart kept you from knowing every single detail of each other's lives, so the drive was a perfect time to catch up on the minutiae.

"It's been weird, honestly. I mean, hooking up last summer was totally unexpected. I can't believe he finally let Chelsea go, but what a fucking night that was!" Gemma squealed as you tamped down your jealousy.

Everyone in high school had the hots for Mike, and you were no exception. But Gemma caught his eye at the last hurrah before heading back to college this past September and, well, girl code. Even if your tastes in men hadn’t already started changing, he was off your list forever now. Especially because he had actually seemed hellbent on making a true go of it with her, promising nightly calls that unfortunately turned weekly as the semester dragged on.

"He's seemed a little distant lately. Distracted. That missed call on Halloween really had me questioning everything he said about giving us a shot. But he's been making it up to me. The phone sex..."

"Stop. Please. I don't want to hear about him slapping one out over the phone," you laughed.

"He sounds so sexy when he comes. Long distance or otherwise."

"Ugh, god. Stop!"

"What? Like you don't love it too! What's up with you and Charlie?"

"Fuck him,” you scoffed. “D'you know, I caught him with Brigette?"

"Your roommate Brigette?"

"Yup. Right before finals started. I need to find a new living situation for next semester, stat!"

"God, why didn't you say something??? Are you okay?"

"I'm surprisingly fine. Things hadn't been so hot lately and honestly, I just don't think he's for me."

"What, missionary all the way?"

You both laughed until the tears were running.

"You should've seen his face when I asked to be on top once. It was like I killed his dog or something."

"Jesus, yeah. You're better off. You need a real man," Gemma declared.

You laughed again, but it came out with a hitch in your throat. A real man was right.

"What was that?" Gemma asked.

"What was what?" you feigned innocence, and held your breath.

"You laughed like you're hiding something. You got a thing going with one of your professors?"

You exhaled as normally as possible. Easy enough to fib your way out of this one with an opening like that.

"God, nothing's going on. But have you seen Professor Marshall? I alternately congratulate and kick myself for choosing a criminal justice major. That man is so fine to look at," you let out a whistle. "It's distracting!"

"So I've heard. Think it's too late to switch majors?"

"Why would I?"

"Not you, silly! Me," Gemma laughed.

"Your father would be so disappointed if you didn't finish your business degree. Who's he gonna leave the company to?" You winked at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with it. She was only playing along, hoping to find a college boyfriend that would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

You didn't think Mikey was it, but hey. Neither your circus nor your monkeys. You chatted for a bit longer before Gemma dropped into a light sleep. Girl could never last in the car as a passenger on long drives. The hum of the road put her out if she wasn’t in charge of driving.

While she slept, you thought about Mr. Walker. 

When did this infatuation start? You’d met Gemma, and by extension Mr. Walker, in 5th grade after your parents had moved across town and into a new school district. Mrs. Walker had already passed and you don’t know why Gemma’s father never remarried, but you also never saw or heard about him bringing a woman home to meet her.

In high school, when you really started paying attention to boys, you began to notice how good looking Mr. Walker was. But the most you ever hoped for was to meet a boy who would grow up to be as handsome. It wasn’t until lately, when some of your college professors had piqued your interest, that you began to fantasize about him, too. This might be a long week.

You pulled up the scenic drive and parked in front of the Walker residence around 8pm. Gemma blinked her eyes opened and stretched before getting out of the car.

"You sure it's okay I stay here until my parents get back?" you leaned over the gear shift to call out the door. "I can't believe they scheduled a whole house reflooring right before Christmas and then skipped town on me to boot."

"It's totally fine. Dad's probably gonna be busy 24-7 at the office so we'll have the run of the house. And thank God for heated pools!"

You kept your mouth shut, knowing if you showed any interest at all in why Mr. Walker would be so busy this close to the end of the year your face would probably melt off from the heat you felt every time you thought about him lately. Let alone the image of him in swim trunks in the pool. Or not in swim trunks.

Gemma leaned back into the open passenger door and you snapped out of it.

"Coming?"

You turned your whole body to open the driver door, desperate to hide from her the wanton desire you were sure adorned your face. Coming, indeed.

You both grabbed your bags from the back seat and headed up the pristine sidewalk towards the stately mid-century modern mansion Gemma called a "house". The thing could host a Hollywood premiere party and was decorated with such understated glamor you wouldn't be surprised if it would play backdrop to such a party one day. Or maybe a movie set.

The tall, rich wooden door had a thin vertical metal handle stretching from a quarter of the way down the right side, stopping a quarter of the way up from the bottom. A warm glow streamed through the large panels of windows stretching across the front of the house and exposing the elegantly decorated Christmas tree in the front living room surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture.

When Gemma finally tapped in the key code and opened the door, you stepped into the flagstone entryway and smiled at the white lights nestled in the pine garland covering the banisters of the floating stairs leading up to the master bedroom and sitting area loft, then down to the basement holding several guest rooms, the fitness and media rooms, as well as Gemma's room.

Another couple guest room suites could be found on the main entry level along with the custom gourmet kitchen and pantry, dining area, mud and laundry rooms. You knew Mr. Walker's home office was somewhere on this level as well, though you'd never dared venture down the hall to find it. He’d always made it very clear it was off limits. 

You were dying to sink into the oversized conversation couch that surrounded the sunken floor of the family room in the back of the house and stare off into the fire or out the back windows onto the deck overlooking the pool but Gemma called for you to follow her downstairs first.

"I have to get out of these clothes and then we'll DoorDash."

"No need, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the deep voice call from upstairs. "I made dinner, it's just warming in the oven. I'll get plates ready for you both, so hurry settling in."

"Dad! I thought you'd still be at the office!" Gemma exclaimed, dropping her bags and heading to the landing to give her father a hug and turning her head away to accept his kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I couldn't let you two eat cold takeout. They can never keep it warm on the drive out here." He turned, letting go of Gemma and opening his arms to you in what should have been a normal welcoming gesture if you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him half the ride home. "Good to see you again."

You suppressed a flustered squeak and pressed your lips together to stifle the drool, thankful Gemma was now behind her father and couldn't see your face as you reached for the hug. But he could. Did. For sure. Fuck.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Walker. That's very kind of you," you managed to reply while trying not to inhale his scent too deep.

"It was nothing," he let go of you and stepped back, slipping his hands slowly into the pockets of his dress slacks.

Were you staring at his muscular forearms, visible below the line of his crisp, white rolled up sleeves? God, you were. Get a fucking grip.

"We'll be right back, Dad. Thanks."

Gemma led you downstairs and sent you off to your regular overnight room down the hall from hers. You were grateful both rooms had their own bathrooms so you didn't have to pass her on your way to splash cold water on your face.

How were you going to survive these next few days before your parents came back with your aunt, uncle, and cousin for Christmas? Gemma wasn't wrong about needing a real man. You'd put up with immature boys all through high school.

Once you started college, a series of gorgeous, educated older men led your lectures over the last few years and your desires had slowly shifted. It really was no problem that Charlie had cheated on you. Perfect opportunity to drop him and move on to something more meaningful. And hopefully someone more experienced.

Has Mr. Walker been in your sights all along? No. No way. But here he was now. It wasn't right to think about him this way, but fuck he looked good tonight, that fluffy curl hanging down and that porn 'stache. What else could you call it? He even had a little of the scruff you'd really enjoyed seeing on Professor Marshall. You wondered how it would feel between your... You heaved a sigh. This can not happen.

You splashed another round of cold water and then dried your face, swapped your jeans for light cotton joggers, and then climbed the stairs to join Gemma and her dad in the dining room.

"There you are," Mr. Walker announced, standing at the head of the table with a bottle in his hand. "We thought you'd gotten lost." He flashed what felt like a knowing smirk as you froze in your tracks.

"Dad, don't be daft. She knows her way around the house." She turned to you from her seat to the right of her father and motioned to your usual guest spot across the table from her, to the left of Mr. Walker.

"Oh, let me have my fun, Gemma. Would you girls like some wine?"

"'Girls', dad? Really?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Ladies?"

Mr. Walker chuckled as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Right then. There you go, ladies."

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at you as he split his arms and passed the glasses over by the stems. You did your best to grab the bowl, but his fingers shifted up slightly as he released your glass. You heated again as they brushed the back of your hand and you took a sip immediately, trying to cover the pleasure that had to be apparent on your face.

You set the glass down and picked up your knife and fork, preparing to dig into the plate of luscious looking food in front of you. You took a bite and tried to suppress it, but a groan slipped out of your mouth as your eyes rolled closed. You closed your lips and chewed the fork-tender meat, marveling at it melting away in your mouth. When you finished swallowing, you opened your eyes to find Gemma staring at you, mouth agape.

You turned your head to find Mr. Walker's piercing blue eyes trained on yours as he leaned casually against the arm of the oversized dining chair.

"Enjoying it?"

You blinked and remembered where you were, who you were with.

"Mr. Walker, these short ribs are divine!" you declared. 

"Jesus. You act like you never ate a home-cooked meal before," Gemma snapped.

"Sorry, I just," you shook your head to clear the fog. "I mean you’ve always been a great cook, I've just never tasted anything like this."

"It's good, right?" Mr. Walker asked. “I’ve been expanding my repertoire lately.”

"It really is. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed! Gemma, I'm sorry. That was..."

You stared at her across the table with a silent plea, your eyes begging her to say something, anything. You were about to give up completely when Gemma burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

"You absolute freak!" she laughed and you let out a breath and laughed with her.

You kept your shit together during the rest of the dinner for the most part. But Mr. Walker poured another few glasses of wine and you could feel yourself getting tipsy.

"I think I need to head to bed, but do you need any help in the kitchen, Mr. Walker?" you asked.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be careful down those stairs." Did he wink at you?

"See you in the morning!" Gemma called, with a lightness that told you she had well and truly forgiven the awkwardness of just an hour or so ago.

You peeled off your thin sweater and discarded your bra, leaving just a lacy camisole and your joggers. You pulled back the thick pile of covers on the bed and were about to climb in, when a wave of thirst overtook you.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped softly into the hall. The Walkers always kept a mini-fridge stocked in the media room down here. You froze as you entered the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Walker! I was just..."

"I thought you might want a bottle of water for your nightstand."

You exhaled a small laugh as you both spoke at the same time, but then froze again as you watched the way he held the bottle. Low, at his hips. One hand on the base, the other fiddling with the cap.

" Wh..where's Gemma?" you practically whispered, unable to get your voice to cooperate suddenly.

"She's finishing up the dishes. I’m sure she'll be right down," he replied with a firm, confident tone. "Did you want this?"

He gave a slight nod in the direction of his hands, where you saw he was now tipping the bottle back and forth, before finally offering it to you with an outstretched arm and hand gripped firm around the plastic form.

"Here. Take it."

You nodded and reached for the bottle, once again trying to avoid his touch. Once again finding your fingers brushing against his.

“There you go.” 

Your stomach dropped along with his voice as you realized what a terrible idea staying here was. There was no way you were going to be able to hide your desire from Gemma if her father was going to keep acting like this. Time stood still while you tried to move something, anything. Your eyes away from his. Your mouth to say thank you. Your feet to head back to your room.

"Let's get you back to bed," he stepped forward, turning you with a hand on your shoulder, then sliding that hand down your side to your waist and guiding you down the hall.

He stopped at the door frame, pressing you gently into the room. You almost moaned at the loss of his touch as you stepped out of his reach and sat on the edge of the bed, finally finding your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

"Sweet dreams." He absolutely winked at you. Fuck.

He pulled the door shut, leaving you all alone with the crazy feelings stirring inside you. This is your best friend's father. You reclined back in the bed. Snap out of it. Girl code isn't just about boyfriends. Pulled the covers over you. Besides, he's like, twice your age, at least. Stared at the dark ceiling, while your fingers shifted under the covers and down your belly. But the way he looked at you tonight. Slipped a hand past the waistband of your pants. He wasn't just being polite. Tentatively touched the heat between your legs.

He was flirting, there was no denying it. Maybe you could have written off the hand brush at dinner, but he was showing off with the bottle of water. He wanted you to look.

You swirled a finger gently through your folds, gathering the slick and spreading it around. You thought about his mischievous grin, his tailored pants, and his strong hands before plunging two fingers deep inside, pulling them back out slowly to circle your clit.

"More," you whispered to yourself, then obliged with fingers deep again, arching your back for better positioning.

"Right there," you moaned quietly, letting the fantasy circle around your head. You pumped in and out, curling deep to find your sweet, spongy spot while you toyed with the idea of letting him touch you.

"Please," you begged, pressing a thumb against your clit, twitching with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer.

You pulled your slick fingers from your clenching walls and focused all your attention on your clit, rubbing tenderly while you imagined his mouth on you.

"God, Mr. Walker!" you gasped, finally reaching your peak. "August," you whispered, rolling to your side and clasping the blanket close around you while you worked to slow your heart rate before drifting off to sleep.

You woke late on Saturday. It was 10 am when you looked at the clock. The floor to ceiling blackout curtains had really done their job.

You skipped the shower, even though you craved one after the long drive and your private activity the night before. Instead, you just washed your face and wrapped a thin robe around yourself before heading up to find breakfast. Gemma was sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her phone, empty cereal bowl in front of her.

“Oh, good. You’re up! And you didn’t shower already, perfect. Grab a bite and then let’s hang in the hot tub this morning. I have a kink in my neck from that car ride I need to work out!”

You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and mug of steaming coffee and took a seat in a low back leather barstool next to Gemma. She let you eat in silence while she finished her text conversation.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed, slamming the phone on the counter. “I can’t believe Mike got put on shift at the end of finals week.”

“That why he couldn’t get home already?”

“Yeah, says it’s like a right of passage for all new bartenders at the club. Business is light, but they schedule you with a threat that you’ll lose shifts the following semester if you don’t stay to serve the stragglers and the few locals who pop in the bar once the college crowd clears out for break.”

“But he’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You done?” She watched for your nod. “Well get changed and let’s hit the tub.”

You headed back downstairs to your room and fished your bikini out of your luggage. After changing, you threw the curtains aside and pulled open the sliding door leading to the heated pool deck. Gemma must have had her suit on under her robe because she was already soaking by the time you stepped outside.

You slipped into the bubbling water, immediately grateful for the suggestion. The warmth began to work on your own tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding and you let out a little moan.

“I hear you on that,” Gemma stated. “I hate long car rides! They fuck with my spinal alignment.”

“Yeah, this water feels so good.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the side of the tub, sinking as deep as you could without dipping your face in the water. You snapped up when you heard the splash and blinked your eyes open to see a figure skimming under the water from the far deep end of the pool to the shallow end closer to where you sat in the hot tub.

When Mr. Walker popped his head above water and hung on the side of the pool to say good morning, you were ever so grateful for the steam hiding any lust in your eyes. 

“Hey dad.” Gemma turned from her spot to face him. 

“Are you ladies getting in the pool this morning?” he smirked.

“No, I think we’re just gonna soak and then go veg in front of the TV for a bit,” she replied, hanging off the side of the hot tub.

“Alright, well, I’m headed out to check on a few sites this afternoon. Should I plan on you for dinner or have you made other arrangements?” Mr. Walker asked.

“Dinner here sounds great, dad. Thanks.”

Gemma turned back to you as you watched Mr. Walker duck back into the water and begin a series of laps. You fluttered your eyes closed so she couldn’t see how blown your pupils were, watching him first speak with Gemma and then propel his body through the water. God, he was practically naked over there. You were practically naked over here. You leaned your head back again to pray for relief.

When you both felt loose and relaxed enough, you climbed out of the hot tub, grabbing an oversized towel from the lidded basket next to the pool to dry off. You were just bending over to reach your lower legs and feet when you heard the splash of footsteps on the pool stairs.

“Right then, that’s me done. And don’t you two load up on snacks while I’m gone. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

You held your breath as he leaned next to you to grab a towel, another mysterious smirk on his face as he rose to face you. You stood and pulled your towel up your body, pretending to wipe non-existent water from your face just to avoid any further eye contact. His body was amazing and his wet swim trunks were clinging to his thighs. If Gemma caught you staring, you were done for.

When it felt safe, you lowered the towel from your face and watched him pad up the staircase leading to the main level before entering the house. Your heart was beating a million miles per hour, but luckily Gemma was already heading inside herself.

You showered finally, then donned some comfy loungewear and joined Gemma in the media room where she’d already cued up Netflix.

“Ready to binge The Witcher?” she asked. “They just released the new season last night.”

“Ugh, that man could raw-dog me all day and night!” 

“Where is the lie???!!!???” she laughed with you.

You grabbed some water from the mini-fridge, doing your best to ignore the scene from last night that popped into your head as you settled into an oversized, reclining theater seat. Gemma paused the autoplay on the third episode and asked if you wanted some lunch. You were hungry, alright. But yeah, a sandwich sounded good.

There were still at least 3 more episodes of the season left, when Mr. Walker called down around 6.

“I’m starting dinner now. It’ll be ready shortly.”

“We’ll help,” Gemma called and flipped off the tv. You both headed upstairs to the kitchen. Gemma began to set the dining table, so you sat at the kitchen counter and asked what you could do.

“You could prep that basil for me,” Mr. Walker replied. “Here, like this.”

You watched rapt, as he proceeded to show you how he wanted you to tear the leaves gently into small pieces. When he was sure you had it right, he drizzled some olive oil in a large shallow saute pan and waited for it to warm before tossing in two packages of gnocchi. 

He stirred them around for a few minutes and when he was satisfied by their state, he ladeled them out into a serving bowl. He scooped out a few and offered them over the counter to you and Gemma. You each plucked a warm, crispy potato pillow from the spoon and you sighed when you popped it in your mouth, happy that Gemma was making the same noise and you wouldn’t be called out this time. Something about food with Mr. Walker was becoming increasingly sensual to you.

He added some more olive oil and then butter to the pan, waiting for it to melt before pouring in the heirloom cherry tomatoes he’d asked you to dry off from the colander in the deep sink. He sprinkled in some salt and gave them a quick stir, then turned to the open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He poured three glasses set on the counter and pushed two towards you and Gemma with his fingers pressed on the base of the stems. Then he raised his own glass.

“I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he tipped his glass to Gemma, and then toward you. “Both of you, of course.”

You took a small sip, watching over the rim as he did the same and you held your breath while your eyes trailed along his throat as he swallowed, hoping Gemma didn’t notice you staring. 

The three of you chatted amicably, while Mr. Walker stirred the tomatoes in the pan until they began to burst, at which point he dumped the crispy gnocchi back into the pan. You watched in awe as he lifted the heavy pan with one hand and gave it a good toss, shifting it back and forth with subtle little wrist flicks that nestled the gnocchi into the simple sauce. Then he stirred in some fresh mozzarella pearls and some of the hand-torn basil, giving you a wink of thanks, before popping the whole thing under the broiler. 

He asked Gemma to carry the salad and offered you the last pour of wine before sending you off to the dining room with a fresh bottle. Seated at your usual spot, you piled a moderate amount of the bubbly dish onto your plate, inhaling the heavenly scent of basil and tomato. Mr. Walker raised an eyebrow as he held a small bowl of shaved parmesan in your direction. When you nodded, he held the dish for you while you sprinkled the cheese over your plate, eyes watching you the whole time. The fact that he simply turned and handed the bowl to Gemma to let her hold it while she sprinkled her own cheese was not lost on you.

The white wine wasn’t affecting you the way the red had the night before, so once dinner was over, you and Gemma helped clean up and then headed downstairs to finish out the season before going to bed. 

You woke yourself up in the middle of the night with your hand down your pants again, teasing your slit while you recalled the dream. 

A rugged man with long silvery hair helped you down off his horse and led you to a blanket in a clearing near a steamy pool of water. From a small bowl, he plucked a tiny ripe tomato with his fingers and gently pressed it into your waiting mouth. You sighed as the tomato burst when you bit into it and shivered when he bent over to lick the juice running down your chin with the tip of his tongue before pressing you to your back and holding you down with a heavy kiss. You whispered his name into the night once again as you came. 

“August.”

In the morning, you peeled the covers back and stretched your way out of bed. The pleasure of the mid-slumber release you gave yourself last night still tingled in your mind. You showered and dressed, then climbed the stairs again searching for Gemma and hopefully breakfast, missing that her door was still closed. You stopped short seeing Mr. Walker alone in the kitchen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” He spoke with a suspicious tone. It was like he knew. How could he know?

You swallowed and tried to find your voice. “I did. Thank you.”

“Coffee?” He held the french press up and grabbed a mug when you nodded. “I have a frittata here, too, if you’d like some.” 

“Yes, please. Smells amazing,” you inhaled and closed your eyes slowly, remembering the meals from the last few nights as well. “You’re a really good cook, Mr. Walker.” 

“I certainly try,” he winked at you. “So what do you two have going on today?”

“I don’t know. Mike gets in this afternoon and I think Gemma wants to meet up with him.”

“Will you be joining them?”

You blinked and swallowed. How do you tell a father that his daughter is probably going to be getting railed six ways to Sunday tonight, so no, you wouldn’t be joining them?

“Uh…”

“Morning!” Gemma’s cheery greeting broke the tension and you were thankful you didn’t have to tell Mr. Walker that the reunion tonight was for Gemma alone. She gave her father a peck on the cheek and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Gemma, sweetheart, are you meeting Mike tonight?” Mr. Walker asked.

“I am!” she grinned.

“Alone?”

“Yeaahhhh…” she answered, just short of shy. “Sorry dad, I probably should have said something earlier. But you can handle a night without me, right?”

Mr. Walker stared at her for a moment and suddenly all the tension was back in the room. He had to know what was going to go on tonight. How could he not?

“I’m sure I can figure something out. But please, be safe.”

You pursed your lips and widened your eyes as you turned away from them. Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? Did he have no illusions about the extracurricular activities of his one and only daughter? Sure, she was of age and he had to know what she got up to away from home, but still. If you had to tell your parents you were going to be skipping a night home with them to get it on with your boyfriend, you’d probably melt into the furniture.

“Always am,” Gemma exclaimed cheerfully. 

“Alright, well, I’m off. I have some work to finish up here and then a few more site visits to make today.”

“On a Sunday, dad, really?”

“We’re very close to closing this deal and it has to be done before the end of the year. I want to be sure the due diligence is correct so I don’t get stuck with a billion dollar dud when everything is said and done.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“About the things I care about, why wouldn’t I be? You two have fun today. Gemma, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not before you get home, unless you’re not going into the office tomorrow?”

“To be determined.” He gave you both a short goodbye wave and headed out.

“Awk - ward…” you sing-songed, once you were sure he was out of range.

“Ugh, I know. He’s not stupid. I mean, he knows I’m active, but it’s still a little weird being so forthcoming with him about it.”

“Has he ever had anyone…” you asked before you could filter the thought.

“I mean, you’re here all the time when I’m home. Have you ever seen him bring a woman around? I know he’s dated over the years, but no one’s ever good enough for him. They never last so he never wants to introduce us. It’s a little sad, really.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to have a swim and sit in the hot tub for a bit again this morning? Mikey’s flight gets in at 3, so I was hoping you and I could head into town for lunch and maybe some shopping and then you could drop me at his place and drive my car back here. Unless you want to meet up with anyone, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m honestly just looking forward to another veg fest tonight.”

You changed into your bathing suit and slipped a robe over top, then met Gemma on the heated pool deck. 

“I can’t get over how warm it is right now! Clearly no hope for a white Christmas.”

“I know! Air’s still a bit chilly, but yeah, sucks. I’d love snow for the holidays,” you replied, dropping your towel on a lounge chair and untying your robe. You slid the fabric off your shoulders, and stepped down the stairs into the warm, salt water pool. You let your body acclimate a bit before dipping your head completely under and pushing off the bottom to glide to the far side in one breath. When you surfaced, you grabbed a hold of the side of the pool and realized Mr. Walker was standing at his office windows, staring down at you.

He held your gaze for what felt like a moment too long, then turned away, presumably toward his desk, but impossible for you to see his face. Which, to be honest, was fine because for a minute it felt like he was going to burst through the windows and eat you up.

The splash as Gemma broke the surface next to you snapped you out of your reverie and she tugged you back from the side, urging you into an easy lap race. You swam back and forth the length of the pool about twenty times before stopping back at the shallow end.

“That all you got?” Gemma called, crawling away toward the deep end again. 

You stared after her, but let your gaze raise to the windows. His window. You could see nothing inside from this far away, the light tint blocking everything. But you knew he was there. Was he still sitting at his desk, typing a memo? On the phone, arranging an international meeting? Or was he back at the window, watching you with his hands in his pockets, struggling not to touch himself? Or fuck, maybe he was touching himself. You sank under the water before Gemma could reach you again.

“Hot tub?” she asked, when you bobbed to the surface.

“Hot tub,” you agreed.

You lounged in the even warmer, bubbling water for another 15 minutes or so, sending the last of your finals week jitters packing. This semester was over. Your relationship was over. There was nothing more you could do about your performance for either scenario. So you closed your eyes and let it all go with a sigh.

“There you are.”

“What?” you opened your eyes as Gemma spoke.

“You’ve been on edge. I know you said you didn’t care about Charlie, but something’s been bothering you. You just look so much more relaxed now. You good? Still okay about the plans for tonight? I don’t mean to leave you all alone, but…”

“I’m gonna be so good, Gem. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go. I want to see if that pop-up shop is still around. They have the cutest jewelry.”

“Yes!”

You found the store you were looking for and bought a few new pairs of earrings. A long, thin drop chain pair and some geometric hoops, asking the clerk if you could wear the gold bar threaders out of the store. You also found a necklace for your mom and some jade bracelets for your aunt. Christmas shopping halfway done.

Gemma pulled you into a lingerie shop next. 

“I wanna get something sexy for tonight.” She tried on a few outfits and picked out a few for you to try on too.

“This is silly. I don’t have anyone to wear this stuff for anymore.”

“Oh, just wear it for yourself. Don’t you just feel luxurious in silk?”

You agreed and bought the dark blue, high cut silk romper with black lace trim and white flower print. It was maybe the sexiest thing you ever owned. And you were single. Awesome.

You and Gemma walked arm in arm to your favorite lunch spot, grabbing a table on the heated patio. You giggled conspiratorially together about how her evening with Mike would go, making sure you cut her off before she got too graphic. You did not want the details. Those were private, no matter how much Gemma liked to brag.

You hit a few more shops after lunch, nabbing a new sweater for your dad, a book from your uncle’s favorite author, and some art supplies for your cousin. You just had stocking stuffers left, so you hit up the candy shop after dropping Gemma at Mike’s.

You pulled Gemma’s car into the garage and let yourself into the basement to drop your bags down in your room, figuring you would just stay hidden and out of Mr. Walker’s way for the evening. But your stomach rumbled and you realized lunch had been hours ago. 

Before you could make it upstairs, you were distracted by the sounds of grunting and staccato smacks. You peered into the gym to find Mr. Walker throwing jabs and punches against a heavy bag. His back was to you and your mouth watered as you watched his shoulders and traps tense and ripple with each hit. From the amount of sweat dripping down his back and soaked into his tank and shorts, he’d clearly been at it for a while. He was shifting his feet back and forth in a little sparring dance and you were about to get caught out as he rotated around the bag. But you simply couldn’t move.

Mr. Walker had just pumped his arms preparing for the next hit as he rounded his target. He grabbed the bag to still it when he noticed you staring.

“Everything okay?” he asked, chest heaving.

You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to turn and run.

“Everything’s, uh …just fine,” you smiled at him. “I was just on my way to grab a bite and heard the ruckus in here.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.” He trained an intense stare on you, head tilting to the side. “But I was just about done anyway. If you don’t mind waiting, I can whip up something after I grab a shower?”

“That would be amazing, thank you Mr. Walker. Anything I can do to help get ready?”

He strode toward you now, grabbing a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat from his face. You watched rapt as a damp curl bounced back into place on his brow. 

“If you want to open a bottle of wine, feel free, but no need to do any heavy lifting in the kitchen. I’ve got it covered,” he winked at you with a devilish grin. Suddenly his hand was at your neck, fingers gently caressing the chain hanging from your ear. “Are these new?”

You swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.

“They’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, trying not to sink to the floor before him.

You excused yourself and made your way back upstairs, wanting to simply escape his commanding presence and seek out a snack to tide you over. 

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” he called to you in the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on his way upstairs as well.

You sat with the banana you’d plucked from the fruit bowl and pondered the scene. 

Would he strip down in the bedroom or the bathroom? Would he stand under the rushing water for a bit and let the warm water loosen his muscles, hand against the wall, head hanging down? Did he touch himself? He had to touch himself, but did he use a bar or gel? Loofah? Washcloth? Or was he just running his hands all over his body now? How did he dry off? Towel over his head to shuffle those curls? Or bend over and get the legs, drying up the body first? Maybe he started with a swipe across his chest? Did he wrap that towel around his waist or just bare-ass it into the closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt? Barefoot? Slippers?

“Are you going to eat that?”

You jumped and dropped the banana that you hadn’t even taken one bite of to the counter.

“Oh, Mr. Walker, you startled me,” you gasped.

“You did seem rather in deep thought there. Anything I can help with?”

Why you expected him to be in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt you’d never know. Mr. Walker had donned an elegant pair of loose linen pants and simple cashmere turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide the muscles he’d been training just half an hour ago. He looked delicious.

“Here,” he reached for the as yet unpeeled banana, “let’s just put this away and get you something more substantial, okay?”

You made some light small talk about your recent semester and watched as he breezed around the kitchen, pulling out packages from the fridge and heating pans on the stove. In a mere matter of minutes he had turned a burner on to boil water and chopped asparagus, tomatoes, broccoli, and yellow peppers. When the water bubbled just right he tossed in a bag of fresh cavatelli. He asked about the rest of your Christmas plans while he sauted the vegetables in a fragrant lemon sauce. After draining the pasta, he tossed it in the pan along with a bit of pasta water, stirring to thicken up the sauce before adding some lemon zest and grated parm. Boyfriends? He asked as he ladled heaping portions into two wide flat bowls and set one down in front of you at the island.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” you said as you picked up your fork. “No, not anymore.”

“Please,” he rested his fists on the counter across from you.”I want you to call me August.’

“Okay. August,” you replied, as a jolt of pleasure raced through you straight to your cunt.

“Good girl.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, hoping it was masked as the enjoyment of the bite you took. August Walker wanted you as much as you wanted him. There was absolutely no doubt. When you opened your eyes, his icy blue stare greeted you while his mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

He lounged against the counter across from you, dish in hand, lifting bites of pasta to his mouth and chewing while he listened to you try to explain why it simply wasn’t working out with the men at college. It seemed to you that his breath got deeper with each failed relationship.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, licking an errant drop of sauce off the corner of your mouth. “It just feels like they aren’t really into it.”

“Into what?”

“Well, me. I guess. Into what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Something more…” you took a deep breath to stifle the jitters. You were about to proposition your best friend’s dad. “Passionate.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raised in surprise as if he did not expect that to be your answer. He set his plate down, abandoning the last bite, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants. And watched you watch. Yeah. He knew. Saw it the minute you walked in the house two days ago.

You dropped your fork to your plate and slid your chair back, standing to move around the island. 

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“Are dishes what you really want to be doing right now?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest. “August.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them against your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck, but with no pressure at all.

“So, listen. I want you to be really sure about this,” his eyes darted back and forth as he searched yours for any hint of doubt, even as you nodded. When he found none, he bent to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a simple touch, then a swipe of the tongue to ease you open and slip in. The mustache tickled your nose and the scruff felt exactly how you imagined, how you wanted it. You let your mouth fall open and welcomed the gentle probing of his tongue.You whimpered when he pulled away.

He considered you then, for what felt like an eternity before he placed a thumb on your lips and tugged down to your chin then slid his digit into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to gather whatever moisture was available. You closed your lips around his thumb and rolled your eyes back up to him, sucking slowly on his thumb and daring him to pull it out.

He huffed and sneered and pulled his thumb from your lips and tilted your mouth back up to meet his lips crashing down on yours again. When he released your mouth, he licked his lips and then turned you so he could guide you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of the bed and you stared up into his ocean-deep eyes.

“My god you are an angel, aren’t you?”

You shivered and gasped, then released your breath slowly. He smirked again.

“You like that? When I call you an angel?”

“I really do,” you whispered.

“Good. Then whenever you’re with me, alone, you are my Angel. Is that okay with you?”

“It is.”

He smiled at you then and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him bare chested in front of you. You raised a hand as if to drift your fingers through the bed of fur covering his chest and tapering down to his stomach. But he stopped you. Grabbed your wrist with one hand and tilted your chin to him with the other, holding your gaze steady and peering deep into your soul to confirm his observation. It was written all over your face. You wanted him to tell you. You wanted him to give you permission. You wanted to hear him say yes. So you asked.

“Can I touch you August?”

“Yes, Angel. You can.” He released your hand and face and you proceeded to touch him. You slid your palm up his stomach to his chest, your fingers snaking through his hair. He heaved a sigh, then placed his hand on your wrist again and pulled you up to standing. You peered into his eyes, bit your lower lip and slid your palm back down, turning your hand so your fingertips hit his waistband first, sneaking under the fabric.

“You sure you’re ready for that right now?” he asked, placing his hand on your wrist for the third time this evening. “I think you might want to rethink that.” He put your hand over the bulge in his pants so you could feel not only how hard he was already but how large. He was silently asking you if you’d ever had a lover whose cock was as big as his and you paused for only a beat.

You knew exactly how you wanted to start. “I’m a thousand percent sure,” you grinned salaciously up at him.

His nod was practically imperceptible, so determined not to let you see how your eagerness was affecting him. How would it look if he were losing all control?

You licked your lips and brought both hands to the drawstring tie, loosening it slowly, then dragging the fabric carefully over his engorged cock. You sat back on the bed as you pushed his pants down his legs, never once letting your eyes leave his.

Not until you were ready to take him in hand did you drop your eyes to drink him in. It was the most glorious sight you could imagine. Long, thick, hard. Jumping slightly as you touched the underside with your fingertips, then settling the weight into the palm of your hands. He had not been wrong at all. No other man you’d been with could compare to his size. And you had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly how to wield it.

You were hypnotized. Even if you’d wanted to look back into his eyes to ask permission before you took him into your mouth, you simply could not tear your gaze away. Your hunger evolved into something more now, and you leaned forward, tucking your tongue under the head while your lips wrapped around him.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to take his full length inside your mouth, but you wanted to try. Wanted to show him you were willing. You gathered your spit and let it glide your mouth over his cock, past the bulbous head and as far down the veiny shaft as you could manage. With a hand firmly gripped around the base, you held him in place while you moved your mouth up and down, letting your tongue drag and circle. You could do this for hours. He might have let you. But the minute you let his tip hit the back of your throat, causing a small gag reflex and a few tears to well in your eyes, he pulled you off.

“Not yet. I’ll have you undone, but not yet.”

You blinked the tears of pleasure quickly away, confused. Charlie had always loved to come in your mouth, knowing an early release would allow him to last longer with you.

“Was it not alright?” you questioned, unsure now if all those boys had been lying when they said you were the best.

“Oh, Angel. It was divine. Do you see how fucking hard I am for you? And you’ll do that again for me. I’ll insist on it. But I want to drink you in myself, first.”

He asked you to undress. You were suddenly reminded of your spur of the moment purchase and would give anything to put yourself on display in it for him. He sensed your cautious excitement, but mistook it for hesitation.

“What is it, Angel? Are you having doubts?” he asked in a gentler tone than he’d been using since you arrived in the bedroom.

“No, August. Nothing like that. I just, well…”

He furrowed his brows at you and urged you to finish your confession.

“I mean, I want this, but I really wasn’t prepared for it to happen. And it’s embarrassing to say, but I have something I’d love to put on for you. Can I do that?”

His relief shifted to a wolfish grin, as he nodded and shifted out of your way. “Please don’t take too long.” He took himself in hand and began to slowly stroke. “I don’t want to take care of this myself.”

You nodded eagerly and rose to stand before him. It took every ounce of restraint not to sprint from the room in an effort to return to him as quickly as possible, but that didn’t feel dignified. You weren’t going to start acting like a schoolgirl in front of August Walker.

Your legs carried you purposefully through the house to your room where you undressed, put your hair up, and quickly showered. After drying off, you fished the romper out of the shopping bags on your bed, tore off the tag carefully, and stepped into the silky piece. Gemma was right, it felt so very luxurious. 

A shock of cold rushed through you. How would you ever face Gemma after tonight? It wasn’t as if you’d been scheming for this to happen. But you weren’t saying no, either. You wanted this so badly. Another deep breath. You’d just have to deal with the consequences later. There was no way you were stopping now.

You searched through your luggage for your long, white crochet cardigan with the front tie. You decided to brush your teeth quickly and took a few extra minutes to dab some of your favorite perfume along your neck and wrists. A makeup touch up seemed useless at this point, but you did fix your hair.

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror and blew out the breath you found yourself holding. This was happening.

You climbed the stairs with purpose, noting the low seductive music drifting from the top floor. You smiled at the thought that August liked to use sound to get into the mood as well. You stopped at the door to his bedroom, just as he was coming out of his own en suite, clothed now in a pair of dark blue silk pajama pants that did little to hide his ongoing erection.

“Oh Angel. I thought you’d gotten lost again,” he teased. “Come. Let me look at you.” 

He reached out his hands as he moved across the room toward you. He grasped one of your hands and raised it over your head, twirling you around once slowly then dropping your arm as you came back around to face him and tracing his hand down your throat and chest, toying with the bow at the front of your sweater.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

You nodded, wide-eyed, hoping he really loved it as much as he seemed to.

“Well, don’t you look good for me?. It’s a pity this won’t stay on long.” He pulled on the strings and slipped a hand inside the sweater, grazing your side as he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you close for a withering kiss. He palmed a breast with the other hand, rubbing against the hard nub straining through the soft fabric. He pressed the small of your back and moved you inches closer to him, his stiff cock jutting against you.

As he released the kiss, he pushed the sweater off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor behind you, once again taking up your hand and pulling you with him as he moved back to the bed. This time, he sat, legs spread wide so you could step between them.

“This really is very pretty,” he toyed with the thin straps of the romper, sliding a finger under the lace and brushing his knuckle against the top of your breast. “Would you like to keep it on a little longer?”

“I would.”

“Very well then.”

He pulled the straps down your shoulders a few inches tempting you with a state of full undress, then replaced them and moved his hands to your hips, smoothing them around to cup your ass and squeeze. He kept one hand on your lower back, pulling the other back around to the front before pushing a hip just off-kilter. You were now on a slight diagonal to him and that allowed him to more easily slide his hand off your hip and down into the crease of your thigh before he slipped a finger under the silk to trace along your folds.

You watched his eyes darken as he discovered the moisture already accumulated, waiting for him. You bit your lip as he turned his gaze to your eyes. 

“You are already so wet, Angel. You’re hungry for this aren’t you?”

“Yes, August. I want you.”

He kept his eyes glued to yours as he dipped two fingers inside your core and you gasped.

“And I want you to fuck yourself on my hand. Will you do that for me Angel?”

Your whole body was buzzing now. No one had ever prioritized your pleasure like this. If you’d had your mouth on a boyfriend’s cock, that’s where it was staying until he came in your mouth or pulled out and slipped inside your pussy. But giving you control of your own orgasm? Exhilarating.

His fingers were curled inside you, stroking and stretching you, smoothing along your walls and seeking out the most delicate spaces as you began to shift your hips against his hand. The heat spread through your body, you relaxed and sank your weight into his hand, your cunt swallowing his fingers deeper. You swept a hand under the curve of your tit, squeezing gently at the hardened nipple while you grabbed a hold of his wrist with your other hand. Using the leverage of his grip, you rocked back and forth into his palm, tossing your head back when he graced you with another curl of his fingers. He had found your spot and was going to exploit that fact, teasing you with a gentle press before spreading his fingers wide inside you.

“Please, August,” you begged.

“Please what Angel?” he smirked. “This is all you.”

You hauled your head back to stare down at him while you undulated your hips, searching for a way to position his fingers where you needed them again.

“Would you put another finger in? Please August?”

He smiled and obliged and you shivered with pleasure, finally beginning to feel the fullness and pressure you needed to reach your peak. If you could just…You snaked your hand around his wrist, moving so you could drag your thumb down beside his and urge it up to the top of your clit. You pressed his thumb into you, guiding his motion and pulling away only when you were sure he would continue on his own.

With his thumb brushing over your pearl, you rocked harder on his fingers, shifting his hand so he had no choice but to curl up into your spot and you held his hand firm in position when he did, praying to all the gods you knew that he would remain right there for just this moment longer.

He stood as soon as you came apart, catching you with an arm around your back as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing pussy.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed at the heat radiating from your cheeks, then sought your mouth and traced your lips with his tongue, opening you up to him and licking in deep. You moaned as you imagined him doing that again, lower.

“Yes, I know. You’ll get that too,” he declared, pulling away from the kiss. “What do you say, Angel? How do you feel about taking this off now that I’ve seen you so pretty in it?”

You smoothed your hands down your body, enjoying the sensual feel of the silk, still reeling from your orgasm. You nodded as he slipped the straps from your shoulders once more, this time pushing the elastic waistband over your hips and dropping the material to the floor.

August grabbed your ass then slid his hands to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he turned to face the bed. His kiss was deep and hard as he climbed one knee and then the other onto the mattress, before easing you on your back. With your legs pinned around his waist, he ran his hands along your calves and up to the crease at the top of your thighs where he hooked his thumbs and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of your hips.

You were fully on display for him now. Nothing to stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your body, kindling the flames still licking at your skin. He eased his thumbs toward your apex, caressing your folds and massaging your slick along the edges. He let one thumb circle around your clit, pressing hard when you arched into it. He dipped the same thumb into your core, then withdrew and placed it in his mouth, licking you off his thumb like ice cream and you melted at the site of it.

You felt adored and basked in his worship, tossing your arms over your head and arching your back to press your chest out towards him. He slid his hands up your waist and over your belly to cup and knead your breasts. When he pinched, the pressure was just the other side of comfortable and you hissed with the pain. He eased up, rubbing gently for a moment before squeezing again, with the same intensity. The salacious leer on his side-cocked head sent a wave of pleasure along with the pain and you furrowed your brow and whimpered with content. Satisfied, he let you go and leaned down to kiss you again.

He unhooked your legs and directed you to the top of the bed. You eased back against the tall, plush gray velvet headboard, positioning yourself right in the middle of the California king bed.

“I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours now, Angel. And I don’t want you to touch me while I do. I want to try something I think you will enjoy. Will you let me?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded reluctantly, unsure what it would mean.

August climbed up to the head of the bed, knees straddling your waist as he reached behind the headboard. Your heart beat noticeably faster when you saw the thick strands of silk cord he pulled over the top. Holding them both in one hand by the plush lined leather cuffs at the ends of each, he peered down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever been restrained, Angel?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slowly once, chin lowered with a shyness you hadn’t yet felt this evening. August grasped your jaw to tilt you towards him.

“Never be embarrassed, sweet thing. This isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I know.” He dropped one line and your chin at the same time, holding the second cuff in front of you and caressing the line. “You have options here. Let me explain. If you want, you could simply hold onto the rope. It’s soft and won’t burn or cut your hands when you squeeze tight. But the risk here is how easy it would be for you to drop it when you are unable to control yourself.”

You blinked with anticipation for the next option, then closed your eyes when he gave you a few more.

“You could always wrap the rope around your wrists or use the cuffs with a loose buckle as well, but still…” He unbuckled the cuff. “I think your best option, the one that will ensure you are able to enjoy every minute of my mouth on you, would be for you to let me tighten these around your wrists.”

He held the cuff wide for you and waited as you opened your eyes to give him an answer. With a wave of confidence surging through your body, you lifted your arm for him.

“Good girl.” He pulled the strap through the buckle and found the right fit with ease. Firm, not too tight, but certainly not loose at all. He tugged your arm down to demonstrate how little reach you had now and raised an eyebrow again with a last chance to beg off. You met his question with an unwavering gaze and he closed and opened his eyelids slowly with a smile before attaching a cuff to your other wrist.

You tested this one yourself with a tug and another thick swallow to calm your nerves and remind yourself you wanted this. So badly.

You could leave your arms winged back toward the headboard or bring your hands in front of your face, with elbows bent close by your side, but you’d never be able to touch him while he was tucked between your legs. As he began to retreat, you reached reflexively for him, even though you were unable to catch him as the rope went taut.

As if reading your mind, he bent then and allowed you to place your hands on either side of his face while he kissed first your brow, then your cheeks below each eye, the corners of your lips.  He finally slotted his mouth against yours and you leaned into it and kissed back hard.

You let out a soft whine when he finally pulled away, but he pressed a finger to your lips to quiet you, then held it there as he eased down your inflamed body, rotating soft kisses and sharp nips.

No high school boyfriend had ever gone down on you. And Charlie wasn’t the first in college, but he’d been the best so far. August blew him out of the water.

When he arrived at his destination, he pulled his hand down your throat and over your chest, fingertips skimming your belly and lifting away right before he reached your mound. 

He stared at first, eyes devouring the site before him. He tilted his head first one way then the other, as if trying to determine the perfect approach. He pushed your knees wide again when you began to tip them in, nervous about the scrutiny. When he finally eased closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation, but the warm wet sensation never came. You felt only his hands slipping under and around your bent legs, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs and holding you in place. You opened your eyes when you heard him inhale deeply and saw his own eyes flutter shut and open again. As he exhaled, the air drifted and teased, first warming and then cooling across your delicate skin.

He turned to nuzzle into the crook of your thigh, nipping and licking lightly on first one side and then the other. When his beard brushed your skin, you shuddered. It was an exquisite tickle, prickly and soft at once and everything you’d imagined. He pulled his arms from under you then, smoothing his hands along the insides of your thighs and pressing your knees wide and still he wouldn’t touch you where you ached for him.

“Please, August,” you pleaded, head straining toward him.

“Patience, little Angel.”

Only when you placed your head back against the headboard, did he dip low again, still nuzzling gently around the edges of your desire. You felt a brush of fingertips down your inner thigh and the back of a finger running up one side of your aching cunt and down the other. Then a finger along both sides, smoothing up then drifting down. At the bottom he captured your pussy lips between the knuckles of two fingers and squeezed, gently opening and closing and finally providing some of the friction you craved. But as soon as you tried to arch into it, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

“I know what you think you need, Angel. I’m here to tell you there’s more. We’ll get there. And I should have said something sooner. It would be better for you to hear this in a less vulnerable state, but if you want me to stop, at any time, I will. Do you understand?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to articulate even the word yes properly, but he wanted to hear it.

“Say it.”

“I understand August,” you spoke softly, then cleared your throat and responded with more conviction. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He placed a hand on your belly now, heel of his palm pressing just above your clit and rocking back yet still avoiding the tender spot. Then he lifted his palm and swept his finger toward your thigh again, massaging the flesh gently between his fingers and thumb. He did the same on the other side and finally, finally, because you were being so good and laying still for him, he eased a knuckle into your slit and held it there.

And then he craned his neck closer, pulled his finger up through your folds, and let his tongue drag in the spot where his finger was. He pressed his thumb onto your clit and rubbed small circles while his tongue lapped at the slick already forming. When he pulled his mouth away, he slid his thumb down inside you, deep and then shallow as he returned to pressing at your clit.

All you wanted was to lift your hips up to meet his pressure, but you sighed out a low moan instead, trying to be good for him. As if to reward your self-control, he let the tip of his tongue meet his thumb at your sensitive nub and then pulled his hand away so he could close his mouth and suck. When he pulled his lips away, he tugged the kernel with him for a moment before letting it go, then rubbing it with his thumb again.

When his mouth met your pussy once more, it was to press his tongue wide and flat into your folds before curling the tip up and in. He repeated this a few more times, tipping deeper and deeper each time while his thumb still strummed along your button before he finally plunged the length of his tongue right into your core and just like that wrapped his lips around your clit to pull out and away.

You closed your eyes, so he couldn’t see them begging him to put his mouth back where you wanted it, but the anticipation was stoking a fire and you didn’t want to put it out just yet. You felt his fingers push up along the soaking path, tipping into the bud and then dragging back down, middle finger dipping in on the return now. He ran this finger up and down, in and out, circling, sliding, coaxing, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore and you were about to break, he pressed his other hand low on your belly and held your hips in place, like he just knew you were about to shift and search for more friction.

When he could sense you would be good for him, he moved the hand from your belly to cup under your thigh before adding a second finger and rubbing them both furiously from side to side briefly, before splitting his fingers and spreading your labia wide. He dove in to kiss your lower lips, tracing the wide opening before licking in deep and you gasped your eyes open at the memory of his earlier kiss and promise.

As if on cue, any tension you’d been holding in your body at the thought of being tied up, forced to remain still, and eaten out while you couldn’t fully participate just vanished. You sank infinitesimally further into the bed, your arms dropped by fractions of millimeters, and your legs fell open even wider. 

August knew it. And he rewarded you for it. His mouth was on you in earnest now, kissing, sucking, nibbling, licking, lapping, prodding. His fingers were inside you and on you and around you. Two fingers twisted inside, pressing down and spreading you open. One tongue laved at your core, coaxing the heat and juice from you. When it came, you thought he would stop because this is when they stop and climb up your belly and slide their cocks inside you and grind into the wet wet heat, but he didn’t stop.

No he kept going. He kissed your quivering pussy and tongued along the folds, gathering up as much of your essence as he could. He spun those two fingers up now, caressing your walls and seeking out that most favorable spot. The one he already had you coming on earlier. The one he made you make yourself come on. God, what did it matter who was doing what? 

The fact of the matter was, August Walker was giving you your third orgasm of the night with nothing more than his mouth and hands and he still hadn’t let you touch him for very long with either your fingers or your mouth. And he certainly hadn’t placed in cock deep inside your aching cunt.

But what he was doing was continuing to worship at your altar. Well past the point that you could think straight. Was this now four or five? It was all a blur and all you knew was that if August didn’t stop, you might explode. Suddenly it was a problem that you couldn’t move your arms much past your shoulders. 

August was past caring about you thrashing your hips with one aftershock after another. Didn’t mind about having to hook his arms under your thighs and tug you back down the bed each time you tried to grasp the wrist cords and pull yourself off his face. He only wanted you to stop straining so he could show you how much better it could be. He wanted you to relax just like you had right before he’d really started in on you in earnest.

You felt his hand snake up your belly between your legs, creep over the swell of your breast, and rest against your collarbone. At first you resisted the weight, but then you welcomed it. Wondered if it might not be better if he just climbed his whole body right up on top of yours and crushed you into the mattress.

But he wasn’t going to do that, because instead he was going to ensure you came one more time while he scissored his fingers inside you and licked you into oblivion. When you screamed his name, he grinned a kiss against your thigh, crawled out from between your knees, and gently, ever so carefully, eased your legs together and unbent them. 

He traced his hand back up your heaving belly and chest, wrapped his fingers around your throat and tilted your neck towards him.

“So, so beautiful when you come, Angel. I wanted it to last forever for you.”

You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue and whimpered into his mouth because you suddenly realized you wanted that too and it was too late.

“Is it too late?” you whispered and he chuckled at you. 

“You should pace yourself.” He knelt beside you and unbuckled your wrists, kissing each one as he freed you from the cuffs, then dropping to his back beside you. “Thank you, for opening yourself to me.” 

“How in the world are you thanking me after that?” you laughed, still shaking from the explosions, but moving toward your next goal. “And also... Can I get back to this now?”

You began to scoot down between his legs, dragging his silky pants with you and tossing them to the floor. 

“If you’re sure you're ready.”

You trailed your fingers up his thighs as you moved back into position on your belly. He was still hard as rock when you reached for him. You licked your lips at the sight, then sent your eyes straight to his while your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock with a smile. You worked him slow and methodically, tonguing along his length, tasting his warmth. You were salivating for this man, dribbling spit to help ease your tour of his member, and yet you knew you’d never reach the base. You let your hand twist around him, squeezing and grabbing while you worked your mouth down to meet it.  

“Your mouth feels so good on me, Angel. You like doing that, don’t you?”

You peered at him through your lashes and nodded, attempting another wide smile to agree. His hands smoothed up your arms, over your shoulders, and into your hair. You didn’t need him to hold your head against his cock, but he grunted and shifted his hips to press deeper into your mouth. You would have done this for him all night. Let him lay back and enjoy being worshiped the way he had worshiped you.

But with one hand on your nape and one right on top of your head, August helped himself to the pleasure you were offering without hesitation and began fucking your mouth in earnest. With each thrust, you felt him edge deeper until he finally found the back of your throat. 

“There you go,” he grunted. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so deep.”

You could do nothing more than open wide and let him drive, feeling the saliva drip from your mouth with no opportunity to swallow. He set a steady, punishing pace and while you were enjoying it, you also couldn’t help but imagine this must be what your aching pussy would feel like shortly. Your tears were flowing freely now, too, spurred on by the constant stimulation.

Suddenly, he pulled you off and you were confused for one brief, maddening moment until you heard him command you.

“Hands and knees.”

You pressed yourself up as he shifted to his knees as well before returning his hands to your head and dragging your mouth down his cock once again. You felt his grip on your hair at your neck tighten, his pace even faster than before. In just moments, with your watering eyes rolled up as far as they could go to watch him sneer down at you, you felt his release coat the back of your throat, hot and salty, as he came with a growl.

He hauled you up, shifting his knees forward to meet you, pressing his chest against you, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the tears from your cheeks and praised you. He settled back against the headboard, taking you with him and scooping your legs over his, nestling your head against his chest and holding you close. You could feel his heart pounding, the intensity matched only by the speed at which yours beat. His fingers traced along your spine, caressing your shoulder and at the same time he held your hip on his lap and tortured you with tender touches along the flesh of your thighs and legs.

You trailed your fingers over his chest and angled your head to nip at his neck. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft. You bit the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I loved every second of it.” You punctuated your response with a kiss, cupping his cheek and tonguing his mouth open to lick into the softness.

He groaned and kissed you back for what felt like forever until you began to feel a nudge at your thigh. You reached down between your heated bodies to find him, wrapping your hands around his girth and stroking him to full erection. Without breaking the kiss you began to shift, sliding a leg to either side of his hips. Just as you had raised up, ready to slide him deep inside you, he gripped your shoulders tight and pulled away.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Without answering, he easily lifted and deposited you on your back beside him, before rolling to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled out a foil packet and bottle of lube.

“Because I care about you.” He tore the packet and pulled out the condom then squeezed a few drops of lube in before rolling it over his engorged length. He added a few more drops and pumped a few times, before dropping to his back again beside you.

“Now, where were we?” he grinned.

He slipped his arm underneath you and pulled you to him, guiding your leg over his hip again. On your knees, you took him in hand but before you could position his tip at your entrance, he pressed two fingers deep in your slit, massaging and stroking, scissoring you wide. You felt the heat building again and dropped your head back with a moan, still dragging your hand up and down his length. Your pussy was squelching with the juice he was coaxing and you felt his hand slip out then wrap around yours as you both directed him inside you.

With just the tip, you already felt fuller than you ever had and you sat with that feeling for a moment, hands still wrapped around the rest of his cock and keeping you from sliding all the way down.

Once you felt yourself relax around him, you nudged his hand away with your own and began to sink, slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensation. His hands gripped your hips all the while as he gazed in wonder and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” you replied, rocking back slightly to view the point of his disappearance inside you.

“Do you remember what I told you before?’ he asked, a little more heat and darkness creeping into his voice.

“I can stop you at any time.”

“Yes. And if you can’t get the words out, pinch me.”

You were going to nod your understanding, but remembered he liked to hear it as much as you did. “Yes, August.”

“Good girl.”

August began a slow roll of his ups, nudging up into you and shifting you off balance for a moment. You caught yourself with your hands on his chest, then sat back up to start a slow grind of your own. For several long minutes it was just you riding him slowly, like an easy afternoon stroll, completely in sync with his movements.

When he began to pump faster, you braced your hands on his legs behind you trying to hold on for dear life. He gripped you by the hips and held you in place while bucked and then he ran his hands up your sides and hauled you down to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close, kissed you so hard, rocked even deeper into you than you ever thought possible and just when you thought it was about to hit you like a ton of bricks, he flipped you to your back.

He started a slower pace now, still holding you close, still ravishing your mouth. But when you wrapped a leg around his back, he lifted himself onto his arms and looked down between you then over to the leg at his side.  With a devilish grin, he reached back and under that leg, shifting it up over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, returning to the steady jackhammering you’d experienced while on top. And while you didn’t think deeper was possible, here he was, moving your limbs around to find more space. He pulled your other leg up now, no longer leaning forward, but up on his knees, holding you open before him while he pounded away.

This was more than you’d ever felt before. This was precision fucking at it finest and you were barely holding on. 

“You can let go, Angel. You can come around my cock, squeeze me hard. I won’t break,” he commended you, letting go of one leg and reaching down to massage your clit again with his thumb. That was all it took.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, August, Fuck!” 

“That’s it, Angel. I can feel you right now,” he growled. “Feel all the heat bursting inside you, feel your walls squeezing around me. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. My god. Fuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Please,” you pleaded, panting and feeling like you were about to pass out. “Please.”

“Please what, Angel?”

“Please…” you didn’t exactly want him to stop but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“I want you to come. Please August.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and flipping you one more time to your hands and knees. You could barely hold yourself up, sinking to your forearms, head into the mattress. But your ass was still in the air and your pussy was still on display for him and he took you one more time. He lined himself up again behind you, sheathed himself in one long simple stroke, holding still for one moment.

“You're still coming, I can feel it. God, you are amazing. You’re taking me so good.”

Incoherent babble is all he got in return. Even if you’d wanted him to stop, you could no longer form full words, let alone sentences. And how would you ever find the strength to reach back to even graze his skin, let alone pinch it? Whatever. You were riding a wave of the longest high you’d ever been on while August resumed his magnificent assault on you.

After a few more strokes, you felt him swell even larger than he already was, filling you up more fully than he already had. With one final animal roar, he released himself with a hand pressing against your lower back, slowing stilling as he filled the condom inside you. You shuddered with an aftershock and wanted to drop to your belly with him on top and never pull that blanket off.

After just a short moment, you felt his hand at your entrance, fingers drifting lightly through your folds before he gathered himself and the condom in hand and pulled all the way out for good. He pushed against you lightly to urge you flat. You vaguely registered words of praise coming from his mouth, but you were so spun off into oblivion you couldn’t be sure what they were.

From some far off place, you heard water running, then felt a dip beside you, and the wet warmth of a tender caress between your shaking legs. Somehow, you were maneuvered to your back to receive another gentle swipe, before you felt his lips press against your mouth, his tongue seeking your own.

It took everything you had to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze.

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked.

“It’s a start.”

August chuckled and gently eased himself to the side of the bed, swinging his legs off and standing. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening a few kinks before he strode with purpose into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a blue silk robe and helped you into it once you stood from the bed. He tied the belt around your waist, then reached to the floor for his  matching pants. As he stood, he gathered you in his arms for another kiss before he took your hand and led you back downstairs.

Trailing behind him, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself deposited on the deep plush conversation sofa. August flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace and leaned over to drop one more kiss on your lips, then told you to sit tight.

The warm glow of the fire mesmerized and hypnotized you, not that it was hard. You had been overstimulated and now the exhaustion was settling in. You felt high, completely spaced out. You had never felt so thoroughly and completely fucked in your entire short life. 

August returned a few moments later. Or was it hours? You had no idea. All you knew was that he placed a live edge wooden serving tray holding a few bottles of water, some fruit and cheese, a few small bowls of olives, almonds, and fig jam, some cut baguette, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly on the low ottoman in front of you, then eased himself onto the couch next to you.

“Let’s get you hydrated,” he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle from the tray.

“How did you know I’d want that?” you teased, harkening back to your first night home.

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” August opened the bottle and pulled you close, tipping the cool, sweet water into your open mouth, eyes watching you closely to see when you’d had enough.

“Only for you,” you purred, reaching for the bottle so you could take another drink for yourself. When you pulled the bottle away from your lips, August bent to steal another kiss from you.

“A little dangerous, too.” He shifted a knuckle along your jaw, catching the soft indent in your chin to bring your face back to his. He kissed you for what felt like a millenia and you could have stayed that way all night. And then it hit you.

“Dangerous how?” you asked, when you pulled away reluctantly.

August closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, still leaning forward from the broken kiss. He sat up straighter when he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“My sweet Angel. I really didn’t mean to spoil our moment, but in a million years could you ever imagine this night could happen again?”

He held your gaze, and wouldn't let you turn away. You could see the anguish in his eyes. This wasn’t a lie. 

“But why would…?”

“You deserve to know the passion you crave. I wanted to help you learn about your desire. You are a strong, intelligent, thoughtful, and gorgeous woman. I wanted you to see you are capable of getting everything you want. You only need to be sure of it. And perhaps understand you can ask for more.”

“But I want you.”

August didn’t reply immediately and in the silence you knew he was thinking of exactly the same person you now were. If you were ever going to keep this night a secret from her, you’d have to make it a solitary event with no hope of a repeat. How were you ever going to deny your craving?

“Come here.” August set your bottle of water aside and drew you into his arms, leaning back against the sofa as you relaxed onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand slowly up and down your back.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured.

“Life rarely is, Angel. Come on, let’s just enjoy the time we do have. What d’you say, hmm?”

You nodded and sniffed away the beginnings of your tears. August gently sat you up, then prepared small bites of food from the tray and brought them to your lips. You soaked in all the attention, certain you’d never feel so safe and loved again in your life.

With some energy back, you felt your mood lighten. August was right. You should make the most of what time you have left. You reached for the champagne bottle, peeled off the foil wrap, and untwisted the thin metal cage surrounding the cork. August chuckled as he watched you struggle with the cork, so you stuck out your tongue and handed the bottle to him.

“Please?” He popped the cork with ease and poured the golden liquid for you both.

“A toast?” He raised his glass to yours and watched closely as you mulled it over.

“To one night only.”

“One night only.” He smiled with a nod and watched as you took a sip, then stole a kiss before taking a drink from his own glass. He grabbed a strawberry from the tray and held it to your lips as you took a bite. “Now another drink.”

You almost squealed as the flavors exploded in your mouth. 

“When you try this on your own, be sure to get an extra-dry champagne,” August cautioned. “Moet brut won’t work with this flavor combination.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind when I replenish my champagne cooler at school,” you teased. “What about this one?” You took another bite of strawberry and a sip of champagne, then leaned in for a kiss letting the flavors swirl in your mouth alongside his tongue. August continued the kiss, even as he set his glass aside and grabbed for yours to set it down as well.

He eased you to your back on the couch and slipped the tie loose from your robe before he finally broke the kiss.

“That’s also a good one. You’re quite the quick study.” He pushed the fabric aside, baring your chest and stomach, then appraised you for a moment before running his fingers over your breasts and down your belly, letting his mouth follow the trail.

You let out a soft moan and spread your legs involuntarily as he shifted to the floor and tugged your hips around so your ass was hanging off the sofa to give him better access. He let your legs rest over his shoulders and you sighed as he once again slipped his tongue and fingers through your folds, ravishing your core to bring another orgasm crashing over you. 

You barely had a moment to recover before you felt the belt of your robe sliding out from underneath you and in a swift heartbeat, August had you flipped over, urging you onto your knees on the cushions with your arms leaning on the back of the couch. You peered back at him, while he shifted the fabric of the robe over your back, letting it drape off to the side and leaving your bare ass and legs completely exposed to him. He watched you carefully as he rubbed a large hand over one cheek, then drew back and spanked you hard. He was already caressing the red mark before the shocked gasp left your lips. He quirked an eyebrow at you in a silent question. Again?

You pondered the feeling and decided that yes, August Walker could spank your ass. You turned your head to peer over the back of the couch and jutted your hips back towards him wordlessly asking for more, which he gladly gave. The sharp smacks were sometimes single, sometimes doubled up, but always tempered with a gentle caress before he dealt another blow.

You were dripping for him. When he dragged two fingers through your soft petals to gather the nectar, you glanced back to see him wrap his lips around his fingers and lick your taste off them. Then he reached his hand in the pockets of his pants and withdrew another foil square before dropping his pants altogether.

“You planned this,” you cried in feigned scandal.

“I hoped for it. Not the same thing,” he gently replied, rolling the condom over his swollen length. “But it’s always good to be prepared. Speaking of which…” 

August reached forward to grasp the silk belt he’d tossed aside, then drew one of your arms back behind you.

“May I have your other arm, Angel?”

You offered it without hesitation, shifting off the back of the couch so that all your weight was now on your knees. You felt him loop the belt around both wrists separately before he wrapped the tie a few more times around both. Holding the binds of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to guide his sheathed cock to your soaked pussy, gliding easily into your core. Once his hips met yours, he started a commanding pace, pumping in and out of you all the while holding you in place with your hands.

As if he could feel you losing control, unable to stay up straight any longer, August let the belt slips a few inches through his fingers before gripping tight again, giving you enough room to bend forward and rest your chest on the back of the couch while he continued to pump in and out of you with a devastating pace, the juice from you squelching around his cock.

“You fucking take me so good, Angel. Such a pretty pussy. Can you hear her talking to me? She says the sweetest things.”

He set a hand on your low back and pressed his against your stretched entrance, letting it drag along his cock as he moved back and forth and gathering some of your slick on the pad. You felt him ease his hand up, fingers pressing into the flesh of your asscheeks before he teased around your puckered rim with his thumb. When the moan escaped your mouth he knew he was on the right path and wasted no more time. He slipped his thumb right into your hole and held on while you bucked back against him.

“Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fucking my cock so good. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. August, fuck yes.” You could barely form more words so moans of pleasure and squeals of delight were all he heard but they were enough to spur him on and lead him down the path of his own release just as soon as he felt yours.

With one practiced tug, he released you from the bind and eased himself out of your still pulsing pussy, then guided you to stand before him, pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck while he pulled the spent condom off his softening dick. He grabbed a napkin from the tray and wrapped it in a wad before spinning you to face him and kissing you hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He led you upstairs one last time, abandoning the snack platter and half-full champagne bottle. He took you through to his bathroom, turned on the warm spray jets of the tiled shower, then disrobed you completely. You stepped into the glass cabinet and turned to grab his arm to bring him with you.

Without prompting, he grabbed a bar of the same bright citrus scented soap you always found in your guest room and lathered you up. If you weren’t about to fall asleep on your feet, you’d succumb so easily to the way his fingers danced across your skin, caressing every nook and cranny like they knew the way by heart. He spun you into the water to rinse and set to cleaning himself.

And now you had your answer. It was body wash, with a woodsy, pine scent. He rubbed it all over his body with his bare hands. He watched you watching, mesmerized at the way his muscles moved and the carefree way he gathered his own package and lathered it with suds before shifting you gently out of the way and rinsing off under the cascading water. 

Yes, he leaned an arm against the wall, but that could be just because you were with him and he wanted to encase you while he kissed you, tongue probing gently and mouths moving in unison. He groaned as he pulled away.

“We’d better get some sleep.”

The fluffy towel he dried you with was heavenly against your skin. He toweled himself as well before leading you back to his bed. 

“Are you comfortable sleeping here with me tonight?” he asked. “If you’d rather wake up in your own bed, I’d understand.”

It was uncharacteristically sweet, the way August was now wondering how you would feel in the morning, knowing you could never have him again. 

“I’d like to stay with you for tonight, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He pulled the covers back and slipped in, holding them up for you to join him. Wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, you found yourself drifting off faster than you would have liked. You loved pillow talk, but supposed you’d managed that with him before, during, and a little after downstairs by the fire. Besides, pillow talk was for lovers. Which you were now assured you were not.

You woke later than you’d planned, your body still clearly recovering from the unexpected vigorous activity. August was not with you and though you knew the morning would not be a time to whisper sweet nothings, still you’d hoped to wake in his arms, just as you’d fallen asleep. The robe he’d lent you last night was draped across the foot of the bed and your lingerie was folded neatly on a chair nearby. 

You shrugged into the robe and grabbed your things, then headed downstairs where you could smell coffee already brewed but found no sign of August in the kitchen. You continued down to your room where you realized you’d left your phone all night. Shit.

When you picked it up, there were about ten messages from Gemma and you braced yourself as you opened the app to read them. Yes, in the end she wondered where the fuck you were and why you weren’t answering her but there was no urgent call to get her immediately. The night with Mike seemed like it had gone exactly as planned.

She only wanted to let you know Mike’s friends were throwing a New Year’s party and of course you were invited. Mike even had a university friend coming in from out of town for the party and Gemma wanted to set you up with him. The guy in the picture she sent looked cute enough. Apparently he sailed and had dark, wavy hair, a little shorter than Mike’s. His smile was amazing, but to your eyes, he was a boy. He would never compare, you were sure.

Just as you were contemplating how to let him down gently, your phone rang and Gemma’s number appeared. You took a deep breath and hoped nothing in your voice would betray you.

“Hey!” you answered brightly.

“Whoa, too much. Too loud. Calm down.” Gemma was hungover, for sure.

“Sorry,” you quieted. “Everything okay?”

“I think I drank a liquor store last night. Mike’s still passed out, but I need my bed. Can you come get me?”

“Now? Yeah. Of course. Let me just get my shoes on. See you in thirty?”

Gemma agreed, though she wished you’d ignore some of the speed signs along the way and you laughed, promising to grab a Vitamin Water from the fridge before you left.

You noticed another message come through just as you hung up with Gemma. August was in his office. He didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned, but he had to get an early start for meetings and wanted to let you sleep in. You texted him you were off to get Gemma. Chat bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before a solitary frowny face finally appeared.

With no idea how to respond and not a lot of time to spare hashing it out, you dressed quickly, grateful you’d already washed off last night’s extravagance. You grabbed the keys to Gemma’s car, grabbed a water from the gym, and headed back out to the garage.

Gemma was still too dazed to inquire much about why you were absent from your phone last night and you didn’t offer any conversation about it. The whole drive was pretty quiet except for the radio. August was gone when you got back and while Gemma couldn’t care less, you were a little let down. You’d hoped you’d be able to at least sit with him a bit while Gemma slept off the rest of her hangover, but that wasn’t to be.

He kept himself pretty scarce the rest of the week, too, texting Gemma he wouldn’t be home for dinner any of the nights until you were scheduled to head back home for Christmas Eve. Four long-suffering nights and days filled with late breakfasts by the pool and dinner and drinks in town with Mike and other friends. You barely got to say goodbye to August as he breezed off to one final meeting the morning of the 24th before Gemma came upstairs to grab coffee.

Christmas was low key with just the six of you at your parents. No other relatives were traveling in and no one else nearby had invited you over for anything special. Gemma always celebrated alone with her dad, too. Your aunt wanted to take you and your mom to the sales the day after Christmas and that was an all day, exhausting affair. You were in bed by 9.

Over the next five days, you visited with Gemma and Mike, old high school friends, and your parents a few times. But never August. Gemma said as wonderful as Christmas was with him, he was stressing about the deal and spending all his time at the office since the day after. He needed to get the deal signed by the 31st at the absolute latest. And his company’s New Year’s Eve gala was set for the Grand Hotel downtown. He’d offered you both tickets, but Gemma really wanted to hang out with Mike.

Will was nice enough, if a little on the arrogant side. He was a good kisser and you could kinda imagine what he might be able to do with that mouth placed somewhere else, but then you really thought about it and decided the missing facial hair would change the feel. Nevermind. He was at least gracious about the letdown.

The drive back to school was a little somber. You were still trying to figure out if there was any possibility of a roommate swap. Gemma offered to just put you up at her place for the semester, but you didn’t want to sleep on a couch fantasizing about her father while she was in the other room. Maybe Brigette would just spend all her time at Charlie’s, like you should have.

A few days after the start of classes, a small package arrived for you in your mailbox. You’d grabbed it on the way to your Criminal Procedures lecture and stuck it in your backpack to open later. When you got back to your room after taking advantage of office hours to clear the theme for your research paper, you sat cross legged on your bed and opened the small, cardboard box. Inside, nestled in tiny, delicate packing peanuts, was an even smaller, embossed white paper sleeve surrounding a small, red velvety square box.

Inside was a thin, delicate gold chain, with a charm of black onyx arranged in the gold outline of an art deco wing. An angel's wing.

You searched the box for a card and finally found one buried under the packing material once you realized you’d opened the box upside down. There was a simple message to you.

'Angel. This belongs on the part of you I never got the chance to chain. Remember all you are worth and take it as you can. Yours for one night. - A’

Taglist (if you are crossed out I can’t tag you)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @feelmyroarrrr @beck07990 @mysweetlittledesire @mollymal @summersong69  (Old times sake? @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sebbytrash @anotherwinchesterfangirl )

Holiday Angel: @angelcavill66 @lizzystuffsthings​ @plaidcat4815 @augustsprincess  @alexakeyloveloki @gofirityouguys

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #august walker au #ceo!august walker #ceo!august #best friend's dad #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #holiday angel #mine

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stream Crasher- E.Munson

Summary: Eddie Munson is a well known streamer who keeps his private life out of the public eye. His fans get a little glimpse of his life with his wife when she crashes his stream on more than one occasion.

Pairings: Modern!Eddie x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Female Reader, mentions of food, Eddie is a mechanic and is a gamer in his free time, (Let me know if I missed any)

My full Masterlist

Author's Note: It's been awhile, I've been in a bit of a slump lately but I'm trying my hardest to get out of it. I'm working on a few things right now so keep an eye out.

Word Count: 1.1K

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

gif not mine

Eddie Munson was a name well known across the gaming community. He was right up there along with Pewdiepie, Jacksepticeye and Markiplier. It took him years to get where he was and he wasn’t even expecting it, he was a mechanic who played video games on the internet for fun. It was his hobby and he never seemed to view it as a job, he always had fun with whatever game he was playing.

His fans had known that he was in a serious relationship, he and his girl lived together, had been together since high school and had been best friends their whole lives. He never revealed much about her, just that she was funny, gorgeous and a high school English teacher.

One night, Eddie had been streaming, he was replaying The Last of Us before the show came out, when he heard a gentle knock on his game room door. “That you, sweetheart?” He called back to the knock. The door creaked open, light from the hallway streaming through.

“Yeah, I brought you some snacks and I refilled your water,” She replied from the doorway. Making her way to her seated boyfriend, who had just paused the game and turned his chair so he could face her, she handed him the plate that held some cut fruit on it and his water bottle, now filled with ice water. She did this every time he streamed for over two hours, knowing he gets grumpy when he doesn’t eat.

“Thank you, baby. You wanna watch for a bit?” He asked her.

“I wish I could but I have to grade some papers,” She pouted at him. He pulled her down so she was straddling his lap and pulled her in for a sweet kiss, completely forgetting about the stream he had going on. 

“When you want to take a break, you know where to find me. I love you.”

“I love you, more Eds.” With that she planted a kiss on his cheek, got up from his lap and exited the room, shutting the door gently behind her. He turned back to the stream and continued about his way as if nothing ever happened. His eyes occasionally drifted over to the chat to answer questions, which were now all about his girl.

One comment stood out among the rest, “'That was my English teacher'. Well, I’m glad you have my girl for an English teacher. Please respect her privacy though. I don’t want to throw her into this world of social media and content creation,” He lectured his chat. He didn’t want her thrown into the toxic world that social media was, she wasn’t big on social media to begin with. She had Twitter, Tumblr, TikTok and Instagram, all of which she never posted much, just enjoying the content others put out. In one of the many cutscenes, he turned most of his attention to the chat, snacking on the peeled orange sitting on the plate in front of him. 

“For those of you asking, my girl and I have known each other our whole lives, we were best friends for years until I had the balls to finally ask her out our freshman year. I was convinced she had a massive crush on our friend Steve but boy was I wrong. We’ve been living together for 5 years. Once we graduated high school we got an apartment with the money we made at the bars we worked at. Once she graduated from college, we moved into our house. She's working on her masters right now, on top of working at the high school in our town.”

“One of you just asked if we’re engaged. We aren’t, we actually just got married last month. She hasn’t changed her last name yet, she plans on that once the school year is over so it doesn’t confuse her current students. Married life is great, not much has changed, it definitely feels great to finally call her my wife,” Eddie chuckled. He heard the door creak open again, turning around to see his wife in the doorway with a wide smile on her face. “Were you eavesdropping, sweetheart?” He teased her.

“Is it eavesdropping if you’re technically talking to yourself?” She teased back. 

“I-I don’t have anything. What can I do for you, beautiful?”

“Thought I’d take you up on that offer of watching before. I can’t read another paper. Like I swear I drill them about grammar and yet they are still using commas in places they don’t belong, the run on sentences, not taking my suggestions that I left on their rough drafts and don’t even get me started on using ‘your’ in a formal research paper,” She vented.

“I’m sorry, baby, come sit. Teenagers just don’t listen,” Eddie sympathized.

“Oh I’m aware. You never did, Mr. I don’t need help to pass O'Donnell's class. Mr. I can pass history without studying even though I never paid attention,” She teased him.

“You little snake! I ended up getting help didn’t I? My personal teacher helped me pass.”

“I sure did. Now get on with your stream. I wanna watch you kill some clickers.”

He had turned back to his monitors, where the game was paused, pulling his older gaming chair over so she could sit. As he played, she answered some of the questions coming through on the stream. She was out of the camera’s view, Eddie making it a habit to turn his camera further away from his right side and more to the left. A few names she recognized but she lit up when she saw some more familiar names to both her and Eddie.

“Honey, look! The kids and Steve are watching! Hi guys!” She squealed in delight. She loved seeing that their friends were supportive and frequently joined in on Eddie’s live streams. “For those asking, no, Eddie and I don’t have kids. The kids are our friends that are a few years younger than us. I used to babysit them when they were younger, Eddie played Dungeons and Dragons with them in high school, had a whole club and everything.”

“No need to out me as a freak there, baby,” Eddie joked, his eyes finding their way to his wife’s face, seeing nothing but love and joy in her eyes.

“What did I tell you about calling yourself a freak? You were just nerdy with really long hair, that’s all. Still are really nerdy with long hair but I married you, didn’t I?”

“You did indeed. And I’m very happy you did.”

“I’m very happy I did, too.”

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #modern!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4

[blueindigo17]

hi writeblr!! it's nice to meet you!!

I’ve had this blog for years but never posted anything bc to be honest I was a little afraid of tumblr when I first joined, but recently I decided that since I like talking about my wips so much to my friends/family irl, why not blog about them? I also want to find some writing mutuals, since I like hearing about people’s stories just as much as I like telling them about mine. Feel free to interact, follow, message, etc. I love making friends :D

About me <3

My name is Allie, but I go by Blue or BlueIndigo online. Feel free to use any of those :)

My pronouns are she/her

I’m 19, which also happens to be my favorite number :)

I have five wips, 96 characters (about half of which with a birthday I celebrate like it were my own), and yet very few words actually written (some words plotted though. look at me go!)

I'm kinda in between fandoms at the moment, however I want to start watching Criminal Minds bc I've never seen it and I have a feeling I'm gonna get sucked into the fandom immediately lol

I am a MASSIVE swiftie (favorite album is 1989 TV), and I listen to a lot of 5SOS, Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray, and Harry Styles

I love reading !! My favorite author is Taylor Jenkins Reid & favorite books are Malibu Rising, Carrie Soto Is Back, and Daisy Jones & The Six.

I play ukulele, and I've written a handful of songs for one of my wips (more on that later)

I use these emoticons :) :D <3 in practically every sentence

I have a thing where my wip titles have to make good acronyms or I don’t use them. idk why either.

I love talking about my WIPs to the point of annoyance.

Speaking of talking, #blueindigo says things for non-wip related stuff <3

I like to write…

Realistic fiction

Contemporary fiction

Young adult/new adult

Coming of age

Romance

LGBTQ+ characters

Found family

pretty much just people being people :)

More about my wips below !!

My WIPs

Never Have We Ever (NHWE)

Tags: #wip: never have we ever #wip: NHWE

Summary: Liz has the best friends a girl could ask for. Harley, Mikey, and Natasha have been her people since elementary school, and Trevor and Amanda since middle school. Their whole lives, things have been pretty much the same. Same kids in their classes every year. Same streets between the same houses. Same, same, same. At the end of her freshman year of high school, just about when Liz is wondering how much same she could possibly handle, she catches Trevor’s eye as he laughs at someone’s joke, and something deep inside her lights up. Something she doesn’t know what to do with. Something she can't push back down once it comes barreling up to the surface. So much for same. After that, things can’t stop changing. And not just in her own life—her friend group starts pulling apart at the seams. Harley begins withdrawing from everyone with no explanation. Mikey gets in bigger trouble with his dad than ever. Natasha only has a year before she has to move off to college. Amanda accidentally reveals a secret no one was ever meant to know. At least Trevor seems to have gotten off easy. In this collection of short stories, Liz has to wonder if the change of pace she thought she wanted is worth it. Sometimes it’s hard to be brave, and she’s never been the most open to change, but unfortunately, that does not stop it from happening. The only question is: what is she going to do about it?

Genres: short stories, realistic fiction, young adult, coming of age, contemporary Themes: found family, first crushes, dealing with change, growing up, maintaining friendships Characters: Liz Stanton 🩵, Harley Wilson 💚, Mikey Miller 💛, Natasha Knightley 💜, Trevor Marshall ❤️, Amanda Hamilton 🩷

NHWE is my oldest WIP, started on December 16, 2019. It’s been on ice lately, since the plot has gone through so many changes that I haven’t known what to do with it in a while, but one of my goals with posting about it is to warm myself back up to it. I think writing that summary was a good place to start. Wish me luck :D

The Together List (TTL)

Tags: #wip: the together list #wip: TTL

Summary: Audrey is in her first month of college. Within three weeks, she’s moved out of her childhood bedroom and into a room with a window that seems to open on its own and a door that creaks loud enough to wake up the whole floor, she’s stumbled into a friend group that seemed to pull itself together like drawstrings, and she’s gotten a job at an adorable independent milkshake shop with her roommate and one of her new friends. What more could she possibly ask for? The world, it seems. Audrey has a list ten miles long of all the little things she wants college to be. One night, she starts listing them out loud. Her friends—Logan, Lennon, McKinley, Aspen, and Levi—chime in with their own after a moment, and before anyone knows it it’s been three hours and they haven’t stopped. They aren’t even sure whose idea it is, but they start writing it down. Every box on this ridiculously decorated list will be checked off by the end of the year, they swear. Someone makes an Instagram account as a joke, but by the first post it’s become as serious an endeavor as they’ve ever had. They wouldn’t call themselves local celebrities, but they certainly wouldn’t correct you if you did. The thing about fame at this age, even at small amounts, is that it's bound to go to someone's head...

Genres: realistic fiction, young adult fiction, new adult fiction, coming of age, LGBTQ+ fiction Themes: LGBTQ+, friendships, fame, college, becoming an adult, relationships Characters: Audrey Marshall 💙, Logan Levine 🧡, Lennon Adler 💛, McKinley March 💜, Aspen Brady ❤️, Levi Jackson 💚

TTL was created on August 18, 2021. I saw a post on Pinterest of someone's summer bucket list and that sounded like such a fun thing to do with friends that I had to write about it. Two and a half-ish years later, TTL has also gone through many changes, so I'm sort of trying to refresh it now. I'm very excited to see where it takes me!

(Fun fact: the main character, Audrey, is the older sister of Trevor from NHWE!)

The Violet Sisters Club (TVSC)

Tags: #wip: the violet sisters club #wip: TVSC

Summary: The Violet Sisters Club, a world famous all-female pop rock band, is facing a very public lawsuit from a former hotheaded manager over their most recent album. Following the conclusion of their case, lead singer Naomi Tyler, drummer Inez Wilde, guitarist Chrissy Cameron, and bassist Francesca Sheridan escape to the luxurious Overlook Estate, a privately owned rental property on an island off the southern coast of California. Here, they can spend the summer out of the public eye, writing songs they don’t need to worry about releasing and letting the public wonder what they’re up to as they let the tension out of their muscles. With a property twice the size of Alcatraz Island and a beach twice as long, the Overlook offers the band a respite from the go, go, go of touring, the privacy invasion of paparazzi, and the exhaustion of being micromanaged every minute of every day. Four pools, seven hot tubs, the aforementioned private beach, a high tech recording studio (just in case), a few golf carts just to get around the property and a Jeep to get to town. It’s unimaginably expensive, it’s incomprehensibly big, and it’s everything they need. But this escape may not be the relaxing California beach paradise they imagined. Soon, it becomes hard to hide how much the stress of fame was eating away at each of them—emotions run high, patiences run thin, days run long, nights run longer, and the strength of the band is questioned as the girls’ insecurities and anxieties bubble to the surface after a lifetime in the spotlight.

Genres: realistic fiction, contemporary fiction, literary fiction Themes: fame, music, romance, found family, secrets, breakups Characters: Naomi Tyler (lead singer, songwriter) 💜, Inez Wilde (drummer, vocalist, songwriter) 🩷, Chrissy Cameron (guitarist, vocalist, songwriter) 💙, Francesca Sheridan (bassist, vocalist, songwriter) 💚

TVSC was created on February 5, 2023, but the characters have been around almost as long as TTL. Initially, I created the Violet Sisters Club as a fictional band that would exist within The Together List, but at some point I couldn't get the idea of a TVSC-focused novel out of my head. I'm glad I never tried, because some of my favorite ideas I've ever had have gone into TVSC. If I could have one wish, it would be for all of TVSC's songs to be real so I could listen to them without having to write them first.

Now That We Don’t Talk (NTWDT)

Tags: #wip: now that we don’t talk #wip: NTWDT

Summary: There are two important things to know about Hazel Henry and Saiah Bradford.  One: They kinda-sorta hate each other after they broke up last year at prom. (The same prom that ended with the school almost burning down and Hazel's twin brother's best friend going to the hospital. Bad memories all around.) Two: Someone on the planning committee for their senior class trip must be out to get them, because when they arrive at the hotel, they find out they’ve been assigned to the same room. This should have been impossible; Saiah requested to be paired with her best friend, Tory, who's going to have some explaining to do later, and Hazel would bet her life on the fact that she requested a room alone. Now, for the next two weeks, they’re both stuck in the same narrow room with its little square bathroom and practically-nonexistent closet. The air conditioner turns on at random times, they seem to be paired together for every single scheduled activity, and perhaps worst of all—their friends all seem to find this situation absolutely hilarious.  But it’s just two weeks, right? It’ll be over before they know it, and soon they can both go back to pretending their relationship—and each other—never existed. Right? Right? Happy senior year to them. 

Genres: realistic fiction, young adult fiction, contemporary fiction, LGBTQ+ fiction, romance Themes: reconciliation, romance, friendship, forgiveness, guilt, regrets, family, growing up Characters: Hazel Henry 🩷, Nick Henry 💙, Saiah Bradford 💚, Tory Whitehouse 💛

NTWDT was created on October 18, 2023. Hilariously, I came up with the plot after making Hazel and Saiah in the Sims, and I literally couldn't stop thinking about them whenever I wasn't playing. As I do with every character I create, I became obsessed with them, and now here we are. And in case you're wondering, yes, I named it after the Taylor Swift song lol.

Trouble In Paradise (TIP)

Tags: #wip: trouble in paradise #wip: TIP

Summary: Sixteen years ago, Joe Alexander and Ben King drove across the US in the pursuit of Joe's true love. Today, Joe is preparing to move out of his and his ex-wife's house and drive across the country once more, joined by his daughter, Bryce, and his best friend/his daughter's biological father, Ben. It's all familiar—the long stretches of empty fields, collapsing onto a cheap hotel bed for the night, never being able to decide where to stop for food—and yet, Joe has no idea what he's in for.  This is a story of two cross-country road trips, and the lives that one woman is able to ruin in between. Joe Alexander and Ben King have both lost their entire worlds to Lilly Alexander. But the ones they’ve gained after her might be—in some weird, unconventional way—a little better.

Genres: realistic fiction, contemporary fiction, adult fiction, literary fiction Themes: reconciliation, moving on, guilt, parenting, cheating, manipulation, mental illness, sexual abuse Characters: Joe Alexander, Ben King, Bryce Alexander, Lilly Alexander

TIP is technically my newest WIP, since I came up with the full plot just last month (February 13, 2024). I've had the vague idea of it for just over a year, but I didn't quite know what to do with it until recently. It's definitely more mature with its topics than my other wips (as you might be able to tell by the themes), but I really like the concept and I've had a lot of fun plotting it so far, even if it's a little out of my comfort zone.

(Fun fact: the original title way back when the characters didn't even have last names was High Infidelity, after the Taylor Swift song, since I thought it was so thematically appropriate.)

···

OKAY I'm pretty sure I have officially run out of things to say. If you made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading! Like I said earlier, feel free to interact any way you like :D

This post is sort of a masterpost for all my wips, but I'm also considering doing posts for each wip separately so I can go into more detail. That'll be later though.

Thanks again for reading, and have a good day/night !!

―BlueIndigo <3

#writeblr intro #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #wip intro

[scoutbert]

Heyy idk if anyone here remembers me or cares but I figured I'd make a little life update just in case. And if not, maybe I'll just look back on it in a few years and smile.

I've had this blog for about ten years now. I was a freshman in high school when I began. It was memes, fandom, and the occasional depression. I even posted some pretty dark stuff a LOT of the time because I felt like I had nowhere else to vent.

Now I am 24. Twenty four!! I can't believe it. I lived!

I've been homeless, I've been traumatized. Went through a lot of stuff! If you like to feel sad and lurk, feel free to check out my tags for more context, haha. Some of it is pretty triggering and downright toxic so yeah take care of yourself.

But yeah. Twenty four. Sheesh. I am in a much better place now. I have an apartment with some friends and my partner. We have a little dog. I got a new car that I don't have to live in anymore. I work gigs like food delivery and dog walking. Money is always tight, but what else is new?

I still have a little problem with the booze and the weed, but I'm not searching for ways to destroy myself anymore. I don't seek chaos just because that's where i felt the most normal.

I'm learning to be okay with peace. And mediocrity. I used to- well, still do sometimes- compare myself to everyone I knew my age, people who had support systems I could never dream of, who went to college, and found their dream job. Who never wanted for anything. Always smiling.

I learned that it's not a competition. Life, that is. As long as I wake up every morning, I call that a win. It doesn't matter that this person from school makes six figures and already has a house and a kid. I get to wake up and walk dogs and look at trees and flowers, and I get to come home all sweaty and take a hot shower and make a sandwich. That's enough for me, for now. Much better than couch surfing and showering at planet fitness and eating gas station sandwiches.

Anyway. At the risk of overdoing it, I just wanna say thanks Tumblr. You were my anonymous diary for years. I received support from strangers I can never repay. I laughed at memes, made art, got in arguments about stupid shit.

I'm not leaving! Just expressing gratitude I never had. I am no longer full of hate. Just a morsel now, haha. There will always be a part of me that is bitter about everything I had to go through, and embarrassed at how I handled it. But I did my best and most people met me where I was at and accepted me anyways, even when I wasn't at my best. Thank you.

If I ever hurt you or exhausted you, thank you, and I am sorry.

Anyway. Yeah. Thanks. I'm doing okay. Good, even. Now that I'm not in crisis constantly- and I was in crisis for the better part of those ten years- I think I will find something I am passionate about, and work at exploring it. That sounds nice. :)

#scoutbert #personal

[arrow-dodger]

This is such a weird post to make, but I feel like I have to send it off somehow!

I made this blog when I was 15. I'm now 29. Dang. (I always thought it was toward the end of 2009 when I first made this thing, but according to my sources it may have in fact been early 2010... oops. I've been a fraud this entire time.)

This blog is one of the most special things I've ever had, if not THE most special. It's a time capsule of every moment of my life since I was a freshman in high school -- or it would be if I didn't delete all those posts back then, but summer afterwards is close enough. I count myself incredibly lucky that this even exists at all. Until this website shuts down (in probably the quite-near future) I will always be able to consult this page for every picture and every memory I could ever want to revisit from my teen years and early 20s.

But over time this has become a ghost town. Really, most of my friends stopped using this website YEARS and years ago, and a lot of my online friends have also left by now. I'm in contact with all the important people on other platforms. Meanwhile, this platform is accessed primarily by people who have no access to me otherwise, because tumblr has no proper privacy measures by design. My blog is no longer viewed by friends and online acquaintances, but by stalkery freaks, both of the lusty online kind and the psycho real life kind. I stopped posting about my personal life forever ago now primarily because of that, but even the occasional shout-into-the-void vaguepost gets those people off.

With that being the state of affairs here, I think it's time to just shut this down. I'm sure I'll get on here from time to time and maybe occasionally post if it seems fitting, and I'll forever go over my memories here when they pop into my head, but I'm not going to actively log onto and post on tumblr anymore. I have to close this vector of surveillance and pain for my own well-being.

Anyway... eternal gratitude for this utter trash-heap of a website. I love you forever. Let's not be strangers.

[red-man-of-mustache]

I managed to get my old blog back! Last time I contacted Tumblr support they basically shrugged their shoulders like they couldn't/wouldn't do anything. This time it only took ONE message and bam, I have access again. It feels good to go back and reminisce. See a bunch of old ideas I had for Mario and whatnot. I'm gonna get a little feelsy under the cut though, I just wanted to tell someone about this. I won't be going back to it or anything as I've already started over here but it's nice to have possession over it. Two-factor authentication did it's job(a little too well) when I lost that old phone number.

I made that blog when my then girlfriend suggested I do so. Tumblr wasn't even in my sights at the time. I was fresh out of High School and the tumultuous time I spent there was horrific to my general inspiration to write. What I mean is, I began Freshman year full of hope and vigor. I even wanted to write a book. I still have about six or seven chapters of it somewhere in my laptop but I gave up around sophomore year as I was an outcast, dealing with an alcoholic parent, and all around just not having a good run of things IRL. Thusly I moved further and further from certain hobbies I enjoyed, like writing/role-playing.

As stated, I graduated High School in June of 2014 and my girlfriend suggested I make a rp blog for Mario in July of that same year. I thought nothing of it. I made the blog, followed a bunch of people, and sat back for a bit to see how it was done. I learned some of the terminology and then got right to it! To this day it was the most fun I've had just goofing off, making random jokes with people across the fandom, and not having a care in the world to drag me down.

It was an escape.

If any of you were around, you'll know I spoke about follower count a lot back then. That wasn't to brag, rather I was amazed that people would follow my dumb ol' blog whether it be to watch me write or write with me. The concept still amazes me to this day really. I started going to college shortly after, and admittedly I would often be blogging when I should have been doing homework or even in the middle of class. I loved(and still love) what I was doing. I enjoy writing Mario because I grew up with him and I find comfort in his games. Mario represents a part of me that feel as though I've lost touch with in recent years. The bravery, the happy-go-lucky. The optimism.

As I wrote through the years, on and off through to 2018, I met a lot of people and more often than not I'd vanish on these newfound connections because just to be blunt I am horrible at keeping in touch. Absolutely dogshit at it. If I go too long without speaking to someone I just would figure why bother? Then never say anything again. A vicious cycle really if you feel like an outcast because you reinforce those feelings through inaction.

I was in an especially horrible slump the year I lost that blog. I had a job I hated(but paid well) I was smoking constantly to escape the pain, and I was in a very unsavory living situation. From almost every angle I felt suppressed and tumblr was my only escape. But I started letting it affect my time here as well. Another not so glamorous fact about me: I have trouble letting go of things. Paradoxical with what I just mentioned about keeping in touch I know but people, things, experiences, I cling to the good in my life given the trials I've had to endure. So, I contacted support and tried to hash things out. I was turned down and although I felt at the time it wasn't fair I could just pick back up and do as I used to do, for once I resolved to not give up and made this blog here. I still had access through my old phone(the app specifically. That was the only place I was still logged into it on)) it just didn't have service or the phone number assigned to it for me to receive the Two-factor authentication code.

It hurt at the time to archive my old blog and just go about my day but that was a practice in letting go. Sort of. I'm still using the same name, same character, and my method of writing is just a little bit spruced up. But I needed it. I needed to move on because there was just as much pain associated with that blog as there was good times. I needed to grow and move past it. And I did.

Of course, I took an extended hiatus on this blog as well. At the time I was financially in the gutter, emotionally I was volatile and my physical health didn't help either of those things. It's not all bad though. I've made a lot of good progress recently. The past year really. Unfortunately at first, my weed consumption got to the point where I could hardly function in day-to-day life without it and I was simultaneously worse off mentally for it. It almost drove me to suicide. I did attempt it, once. But that was my breaking point. May of last year. I decided I cannot go on this way and I checked myself into a mental hospital.

After a short stay I came out with a new resolve to fix my life and get over the time I wasted burying my feelings in THC. I had quit, after smoking daily from 2015 until then(2023) I stopped cold turkey. That jumpstart being away from it for a week helped a lot. I'll be a year clean in two months. Afterwards I started seeking better job opportunities, even working two jobs at one point to maximize gain. The truck my uncle helped me get had broken down in November and well, I decided that it would take an exorbitant amount to tow and fix it. I took THAT money and went to the dealership, got a used car I loved. First time I've had a car note in my adult life and I was 27 at the time. My mom (who deserves her own post really. She's not been the best person and that's putting it lightly) ended up in the hopsital around that same time for dry bronchitis. Still an alcoholic by the way, but I actually had hope for her. If I could kick my habit then she should be able to as well, right??

Wrong. She got out the hospital and got even worse. I came back home to look after her tentatively for a bit but planned on going back with my roommate afterwards. Her belligerent drunken rants had gotten markedly worse and if I were to guess it was that brush with death. She claims she went to the hospital because she couldn't breath. I wasn't around at the time to get her there but someone luckily was. Fast Forward to the end of January. My mom and I get into an argument. Usually that doesn't happen because I'll either let her speak her piece and move on or I legit just ignore her. But tonight she was trying to get physical with me, a grown man. Throughout my childhood she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive and always used threats to keep me in line but she realized none of that worked anymore and was especially angry.

She was poking at me, trying to land punches on me and eventually I shoved her away. I tried multiple times to walk away by this point by going to other parts of the house but she would follow me, block my way and again try to get physical. Things simply boiled over. After shoving her she grew angrier and we got into things physically. I didn't hit her the entire time. Not a scratch was on her because(and this isn't my ego talking) I was only trying to control the situation. I mostly pushed her around while she clawed at my face, threw things, and she ended up hitting me with an air fryer. When she did that I called the police.

The police came and saw the two of us. Me bleeding with cuts on my face and her unmarked. They spoke to both of us and took me to the hospital and her as well to get examined. I was able to go home that night. She went to jail.

My brother heard what happened and stole my car that night, but again that's a story for another time.

I'm putting all this out there about me because I returned to rping Mario a little bit after all this happened(January 31-February 1st is when it all went down). I was going through a lot on my old blog but I still chugged along because life has it's ups and downs. That's something Mario would say. This past year I've won more than I lost. I've been getting therapy as well to try and pin down if I have anything going on in the ol' noggin so, really, I'm in a place where I think I can sustain this hobby again. At first it felt like life crushed my optimism and hope for a better future but that was because I let it.

I say all this to say, that I'm glad to be back. I'm glad all of you no matter if we write together everyday or every other day gives me a chance. It warms my heart to write these posts even if I'm not here everyday. Sometimes I get busy, sometimes I don't have the energy but I refuse to give up as I've done in the past. That will never happen again.

So bear with me is all I ask. I wouldn't give this up for the world.

#ℳ ➙ Player One | OOC | #tw:suicide #tw: abuse #tw: alchohol mention #tw: substance abuse #tw: blood #tw: violence

[filthybonnet]

why Ramin when there's literally EVERY other Phantom tho

I'm going to answer this legit instead of being like "like whoever you like."

So 2004 I was super excited to go the midnight showing of "The Phantom of the Opera" movie. I hadn't had the chance to see the musical in person, coming from a family in which I was their main introduction to theatre when I was accidentally put into theatre class my freshman year of high school and decided I loved it. My sister and I fell in love the proshot of "Cats" (which my drama teacher introduced me to) and that was the first professional theatre show we saw live. We saw a tour of it in 1999.

Anyway...so 2004 I'm in college super excited to finally see Phantom. I leave that movie theater so disappointed. I was like "I thought he was supposed to be able to sing. Also the fuck was Minnie Driver doing there?" After that I'm like "Ew I want nothing to do with Phantom."

2011: I'm in NYC for the first time but I'm with major red flag boyfriend (which is a different story). We're walking by what I later learn is The Majestic to get to our hotel. At the time I just see lots of Phantom posters and ads. I stop and look at them and am like The stage production has to be better than that movie. I ask Ex if we can go see it and he's all like we don't have the time. (of course we had the time, it was just not what he wanted to do).

End of 2017/Early 2018: I got "unlawfully terminated" from my job. I'm wasting a lot of time on tumblr. A few of my mutuals post a lot of Phantom content, lots of pictures of various Christine's in the dressing robe is what I remember the most. I like what I see and I'm like I should give Phantom another chance, I have all this free time. HOWEVER, I decide this time as I was a literature major, I'm going to the source material first. I look up the novel, read up on the newer translations, pick the one I like best. I fall in love. I finish the thing in two days.

I decide I'm going to suck it up and give the 2004 movie another chance after loving the novel so much. I contact my sister because I know she has a copy as an actress and a Gerald Butler lover. I tell her my reason. She replies, "No, I have something better for you. Come over." So while her husband is at work we have lunch, she curls my hair and she puts on The Phantom of the Opera Royal Albert Hall.

I wasn't paying too much attention at the moment because my sister was asking something about my hair but at that same exact moment Ramin's "Insolent Boy!" boomed through her sound system. No lie (and TMI) but my nipples instantly went hard and I turned towards the TV and was like "Hello! Who is this?" Him and Sierra were barely out on stage in the boat and I was already googling Ramin Karimloo.

In two seconds with just his voice, Ramin Karimloo made me fall back in love with "The Phantom of the Opera" In 2004 when I left that movie theater saying "I thought the Phantom was supposed to be able to sing" Ramin turned that around in two seconds. And then I saw him act. And then while watching it I found shirtless pictures of him on the internet.

I have seen many boots since and have seen 4 Phantoms live (5 counting Ramin but not for this point) and none of them do it for me like Ramin. I've had other Christine's impress me more than Sierra since (like Holly Ann Hull is my top now. Saw her 3 times live). And after seeing Ramin as Phantom 4 times that's it. Even his Phantom in Italy had differences from his RAH Phantom but still just such perfection. Seeing it person he just becomes the Phantom. It was like I knew I it was Ramin but all you could see was Phantom, not Ramin acting Phantom.

This might not satisfy you because the way your question is worded seems to imply you're not that fond of him. And I know some of the "phandom" considers him a gateway Phantom. However he's very much loved by lots of people and was chosen for reasons.

#ramin karimloo #the phantom of the opera

[rozaceous]

TUMBLR WAS HIDING THINGS FROM ME

@paradoxsun

do you know how sensible it would be for them to instead be at sasuke's place? so sensible. more sensible than any college student I've ever met. was just talking w a friend abt how her son (19) had purposefully moved from the most amazing apartment to the shittiest garden apartment she'd ever seen, bc it supposedly saved on rent (it didn't once you tallied in utilities). apparently he was enamored w this new, terrible place that she thought smelled like mold. the ways of teens and young adults are stubborn and mysterious and have only a little to do w reality. college me was not ^that level of ridiculous, but in other ways I was no better.

and sasuke sleeps on the awful loveseat once, bitches forever abt his neck, and then it's musical chairs w who's crashing w whom in their twin bed. (also mariko and naruto's place feels homier.)

how do they meet? 🤔 naruto and mariko would've needed to know each other beforehand to shack up in their apartment, so maybe since high school. but I imagine all 3 could get stuck in some horribly large gen ed course freshman year w a bajillionty other ppl and maybe a group project happens. they hate each other at first but they hate everyone else more.

if we're going w the "naruto and mariko become ra's" version I retcon myself into further down that thread, they were all on the same floor of a dorm first year.

#internet user demands answers #the universe outside us #sometimes the shittier apartment is the one w better vibes I guess

[play-now-my-lord]

ohhhh tumblr is stuck on philosophy and english literature 101 because the target demographic is fresh out of high school. my feeling of profound indifference for these things is because freshman year of college was half a lifetime ago and i've had plenty of time to learn that college professors are dumb asses

[hildred-rex]

Hello, I love Hildred Castaigne! He’s such a fucked up unreliable narrator and he also reminds me so much of myself in middle school and I love him for it. What do you like about him?

First off, apologies for taking absolutely ages to answer this! Life happened and I promptly forgot tumblr existed for almost a month. Yay.

Anyhow, I think my love of Hildred is a combination of the factors you mentioned and the absolute state I got into shortly after I found The King in Yellow -- aaand here comes an essay. The last version of this got deleted, and apparently I've taken it upon myself to make its replacement even lengthier.

Hildred is a fascinating character to read and to write, and his opinions on things are (or would be) so different from mine that it's fun to try to puzzle them out. I keep a bevy of fictional characters that I can simulate reasonably well as a way to make myself consider how people get to opinions that differ from mine, and naturally he's among them.

Beyond that, I'm an absolute sucker for hints at a greater world, but only narrow viewpoints from which to try to figure out what's going on in that world.

The weird bits of The King in Yellow as a whole are superb at tantalizing you with smug allusions and tiny scraps of information about what, exactly, it is that the book is named for.

Is it a play? Is it an entity? What happened to the author? ...was the author Boris? (I don't think the author was Boris, but I won't lie that I've considered writing a fic where he was.)

I got hooked on Lovecraft for the same reason, and it's actually what put me on to Arthur Machen (favorite author) and The King in Yellow (favorite book).

Even with all that, I think my King in Yellow interest would have been a passing thing that returned occasionally, if it hadn't been the last thing I got into before my first set of high school final exams kicked my ass.

The tl;dr of freshman year is that I picked the wrong math class and it spent the semester wrecking my self-confidence (and my sleep schedule) before I finally managed to transfer to a better one. (Then I spent second semester picking myself back up.)

Hildred, notably, is self-confident to the point of it backfiring catastrophically on him. He absolutely should not have gloated to Louis, tactically speaking; in this essay I will-

Anyway. Stress is weird, so during finals season and its leadup I had quite a lot of unmarshalled energy that refused to work on what I actually needed it to do and that instead directed itself at my idle pokings at Hildred and his world.

Probably better than worrying about how my abysmal math grade was going to ruin my life.

It didn't, and I came out of the crucible with rather extensive additional worldbuilding. Since I essentially speedran getting invested in the project, I came away wanting to do more of it and... it just kind of stuck?

I mean, here we are several years later and my first impulse is still to name my tumblr blog for him. I've got a rough idea of his extended family back three generations. I have a design for that spring suit Hawberk had that was mentioned exactly once. I am the embodiment of

when it comes to this lol

_____

I couldn't find a good place to fit this in above, but Hildred was also the first time I encountered a story with an obviously intentional unreliable narrator after I'd encountered the term. Not sure how I missed it that long, lol. I spent probably half a decade looking askance at various authors and going "...do you know what you're writing there???"

I also couldn't integrate it anywhere, but I absolutely adore "The Mask." I have Thoughts on Chambers's ability to write romance more generally, the short version being that he writes Lovers™ and not characters and they're thus so wooden they're hard to read, but that he must have been in a position like the beginning of "The Mask" because holy god that is exactly how it feels.

#for context: this was sent /May fourteenth/ #inquiries #in addition to all that: he's objectively correct about metal #hildred castaigne #hildredposting #I should try to see if there's an audience for tkiy meta #the king in yellow (novel) #...apparently I decided to tag it as a novel and now I'm stuck

[that-disabled-princess]

I don't believe in fate or destiny or "everything happens for a reason", or anything like that. I've been through too much and have too much PTSD and CPTSD for that. But I do believe we find books and movies when we need them most. When we're in our darkest places. It's just an unexplainable part of how books and movies work, I think.

I was in a dark place when I found Carry On. I was in my freshman year of high school when I first learned about it, but I didn't read it until several months later. It was Spring 2020, we were going into lockdown, my mom was divorcing her abusive ex, and I (as the oldest and family scapegoat) was caught between it all. I didn't think I was going to make it to my next birthday.

And then, by some miracle, I picked up Carry On and read it in October 2020. I read Wayward Son immediately after. Joined Tumblr a month later. (I still remember in excruciating detail the traumatic events of that year. It was more than a teenager should've ever had to go through.)

I found the Carry On fandom and made fandom friends--fandom friends that turned into more than just fandom friends. Friends.

I wouldn't have graduated high school, or even have made it to my eighteenth birthday, without fandom. I wouldn't be sitting here typing this post.

The beginning few months of this year was hard for me again. (Doesn't help that Februarys are always the worst for me.) I got hit with a betrayal and friend drama (and am still healing from both of them), several new medical issues, new mental health issues, my second semester of senior year. I was drowning in a pool I could touch the bottom of.

I didn't think I was going to make it to graduation.

But I somehow made it through, five months clean, healing that broken friendship and learning to live as a disabled person.

Or so I thought.

My family chooses to be willfully ignorant of my mental and physical disabilities and struggles, chooses to downplay them so they don't have to make so many accommodations for me. Verbal and physical assaults from my younger siblings because I "don't look disabled". I definitely didn't stay clean. I didn't want to keep going.

And then I somehow found Nimona.

A dystopian movie about a shape-shifter sidekick helping clear a villain's name? It sounded right up my ally. I went to watch it, assuming it was going to be a little cliche, not too much of a high rewatch value, etc... I hadn't heard much before jumping into the movie, but boy, was I wrong.

That movie... that movie was everything. I watched it nearly 20 damn times that week. The trans allegory, the disability rep... yeah, that movie became fucking everything.

I paused the movie and sobbed when I realized we were getting a disabled protagonist. A disabled protagonist who's prosthetic arm is allowed to make noise, who's allowed to exist, who's allowed to take up space, who's allowed to be loved! Not in spite of his disabilities, but because of them!

I damn near started crying on the spot when Nimona described what it feels like when she doesn't shift. If that isn't a reference to chronic pain, I don't know what is.

I found Nimona when I was in a very dark place struggling with being disabled; found Nimona during disability pride month. (Happy disability pride month, by the way!) I found it exactly when I needed it most.

This is getting longer than I intended it to, so I'll end it here. I definitely think books and movies find us when we need them most 💖

#i know nimona is a trans allegory please don't derail my post saying i can't see it as a disability metaphor as well #i am both trans and disabled #carry on and nimona changed my life for the better #internalized ableism #tw internalized ableism #tw suicidality #mental health

[orchidsangel]

hello ml!!

i was curious abt how big of a reader you are. like, if books ever interested you or if it’s just fics of tumblr mby?

and if books for you, what are your favourite(?)?!

hi robin!!!

oh gosh, i used to be such a massive reader. like genuinely addicted to reading, could knock out multiple books in a day. i remember one time when i was in elementary school, the book fair came around, and i asked to go to the nurses office so i could get out of class and look at the books.

i think sometime in middle school, i stopped reading as much, and by high school, i almost completely stopped outside of stuff assigned for class. and even then, i would skim over stuff and just quit a few chapters in.

i've got adhd so my attention span is really short, and my brain just won't function normally when i read, so i find myself rereading the same sentences over and over again to make sure i understand them, which just gets really frustrating. so idk, i stopped reading full-blown books bc of it. which is crazy because i do still love reading, i just hate that my brain's a little wonky and won't let me do it in peace.

a couple years back, i had to take english over in summer school, and it was basically a free reading period, so i ended up reading three entire books that summer, which may not be a lot for some people, but for me, at the time, it was really big. and last year, i finally finished a book that i had started two years prior but put down because it was just fucking insane.

i hope to read more this year, and literally, just last night, i raided my mom's classic lit shelf. planning on reading dracula or the picture of dorian gray!

as for my faves, it's hard to say because every book that's really stuck with me was something i read 2+ years ago, but the party by robyn harding was one i really loved. i read it in 8th grade, and it definitely wasn't for kids, but idk, i've never been one to stick to my age group. emergency contact by mary h.k. choi was a big one for me. i read that in 9th grade as a freshman in high school, i believe, and i followed it up with permanent record also by mary h.k. choi. i really loved both books, which was surprising for me because i'm not really into romance, but what i liked about them was how the entire plots weren't focused on the relationship, like it was more than that.

when you reach me by rebecca stead was a book i read when i was 10, and i still think about it to this day. i get the urge to reread it because my ten-year-old brain couldn't fully understand what was going on, but i did really enjoy it. during that same time in my life, i read the books absolutely normal chaos by sharon creech and a crooked kind of perfect by linda urban. both are books i think about often, especially a crooked kind of perfect, i reread it multiple times.

the most recent book i finished was credence by penelope douglas which…no comment. (literally put it down for two years before picking it up again and then had to put it back down for another six months)

my most recent fave was beware that girl by teresa toten, which i really really loved. although, the ending was a little lackluster, so i choose to ignore it and focus on the parts that i loved, which was pretty much the entire rest of the book.

i also enjoyed we were liars by e. lockhart, which was recommended by booktok before they became a bunch of smut fiends. i really did like that one, i didn't expect the end, and it was a good read to me.

there's definitely more that i've read in my life and enjoyed. i was a big geronimo and thea stilton lover when i was a kid, along with junie b jones and any iteration of a diary that could be found (dork diaries, dear dumb diary, diary of a wimpy kid). but lately, all i read is fanfiction, and i don't even read that much anymore.

i suppose the best way to exercise my brain muscles and get back into the habit of reading is to pick up a book and read, but ahhh, my eyes get so tired, and i already spend so much time staring at words while writing and doing homework. but i do really miss the feeling of being thoroughly enthralled in a book and not being able to put it down.

speaking of a book i forgot, the cheerleaders by kara thomas was a book i read the summer before my freshman year of high school, and it's the book that made me realize i thoroughly enjoy murder mysteries set in high school.

anyway, sorry this got so long. thank u for the q; made me really happy to answer it!

#☆ messages from friends ☆

[bowsnbots]

NAME?: Viola!

PRONOUNS?: She/her!

MOST ACTIVE MUSES?: The Vigilante took over for Rock a bit faster than I expected! Which is to say, the fact it happened at all is surprising. It's been a hot minute since Rock's had an ongoing plot, but Vigilante found instant beef with Omino and I'm living for it. Plus I got to give a chicken a grenade launcher. I do need to use Rock and the gang more, though; between the ROB thread and their entire continuity with Egg, I have lots of options!

EXPERIENCE/HOW MANY YEARS?: We are approaching a full decade of experience, starting here on Tumblr during the early months of my freshman year of high school. I teach now. God. (If we count writing in general, it's been over a decade; my now-gf and I wrote Pokemon isekai fanfiction in the 8th grade and she threatens to kill me whenever I remind her)

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: Of the three, angst is definitely my most done, ESPECIALLY here on Tumblr where I exclusively wrote Rock for a long time (assuming I understand the definition of fluff as primarily a ship thing). Even on Discord in the realm of my shitty ass OCs, though, I'm usually more willing to put them through the wringer than anything else. I kind of lose my drive writing fluff. Not bad, just... feels directionless most of the time, I think. Maybe I've just got a bad track record.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: I gravitate to long replies, which is honestly probably why my activity takes such bad hits. I'm trying to un-learn that every reply needs to be like 3 paragraphs minimum, but. I'm doing a very bad job. When the inspiration hits me for long replies, they're so damn satisfying.

TIME TO WRITE?: I more or less can't write in the mornings, since my job doesn't really give me an opportunity to even be glancing at my phone, much less writing (if I look away for a minute, I swear some of these kids will start a fire). I tend to write more in the evenings nowadays; it's a nice middle ground between the time just after work, and at night when I'm too tired to articulate anything.

Tagged by/Stolen from: I plead the 5th Tagging: YOU THERE, AT THE COMPUTER. GET OVER HERE

#► vio rambles (ooc) #//-Been a fucking MINUTE since I've done one of these KJABSCBAKCSX #//-I'm still much too nervous to tag anybody even who I stole this from #//-I apologize for this. Even now I am afraid to send Vigert out into the world to witness things like birds and microgame developers

[dxnse-macabre]

GET TO KNOW ME MEME

NAME — angie! PRONOUNS — she/her SEXUALITY — bisexual c: SINGLE / TAKEN — taken

THREE FACTS

— i used to be a fanfic writer that wrote primarily on w.attp.ad. one of my works got A LOT of hits after i stopped writing,,, i mean like 350k views last time i checked. my goal back then was to hit 1 mil but ofc i don't have the time now — i'm also a published author but only for like one book — i have a pet cat that was given to me when i was in middle school. i actually have... no idea how old she was when we got her. i still don't know how old she is. but she still looks & acts young,,, she also acts so sophisticated/stuck up so i've been convinced that she's an immortal being that is just here for the free snacks and a nice home

EXPERIENCE

HOW LONG — i've been writing ever since i was in middle school (6-7th grade) but that was for fanfiction. i joined my first ever tumblr rp community i wanna say like... freshman/sophomore year of high school? it helped me get through a lot of rough times as it was like a form of escapism for me. i believe the first community i joined was the d.etroit b.ecome h.uman rpc. i stayed in that for a FAT minute before i was into the o.verwatch rpc and then the d.ragon a.ge rpc. if you wanna check out my really old blogs (they aren't active anymore, but i kept them up so i can look at them here and there) here they are: @ask-the-rk900 , @fen-dwxller, @bxckle-up @luridhearted @scxrred-prince (luridhearted was an attempt at a multimuse HAH) WHAT PLATFORMS — primarily tumblr, before i shifted over to discord for a couple years as i only had time to rp with like one person. afterwards, i ended up coming back to tumblr. if you're talking about now, i only rp on tumblr because i have too much fun with formatting my posts BEST EXPERIENCE — i had an rp partner that was like my bestie throughout my highschool years. we had our own ocs and they were always sad and depressed because we were too LMAO. but during that time, i absolutely LOVED our rps and our own characters. we drifted apart because of our own differences, but i hope they're doing okay now. they still influence me heavy to this day, and every now and then i look back at our stories that we made together. always missing you, ash.

MUSE TYPE

FEMALE OR MALE — i've never really written female muses, unless they are older..(?) an example of this is a.na a.mari from o.verwatch. i've always loved writing male muses. a niche that i'd like to say that i'm particularly good at is the closeted bisexual that always believed they were straight and is in constant denial. oh, and rockerboy. i take a lot of inspiration from a fanfic for that sort of portrayal and it's so heavily ingrained in my brain. astarion is so not that but it's a nice change of pace. his rockstar AU helps me go back to my roots though. FLUFF , ANGST OR SMUT — i LOVE angst. angst is my go-to thing-- i feel like i'm some kind of sadist that loves seeing my muse get hurt????? is there something wrong with me???????? an example of this is fluff masking the angst underneath. ORRRR smut masking the angst underneath. it's been years since i've written anything remotely smutty and i have no idea if i can still write it hahaha PLOTS OR MEMES — i prefer a little bit of both. send in a meme, maybe even plot about how to go about it? or vice versa. those are SO yummy LONG OR SHORT REPLIES — depends on the mood of the day. most of the time i love making long replies because the muse tends to get carried away (he's very talkative, as you all know) but i know that a lot of gems come from short little banter-like threads so i love those too! BEST TIME TO WRITE — whenever the muse lets me. sometimes astarion gives a little pouty face and tells me he's too tired and doesn't wanna interact. sometimes astarion is bursting with energy cause he needs someone to fuck around with. sometimes... astarion is full of himself and wants to stare at pictures of himself. the muse wants what the muse wants, and if i force it, it's the first step to losing my muse ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) — on a trauma level, me && astarion are very similar. both of us felt like we needed to overly-sexualize ourselves to people who we deemed worthy of protecting us, so there is a sense of performance that we need to bring to every relationship. it's hard for the both of us to take off that mask since it's so second nature to us. i haven't been physically scarred by another person like astarion has, but i do have my own scars for other reasons. to me, astarion is essentially an embodiment of my past trauma that i can express in a healthy way. i guess that's why i've stuck with him longer than i have with any other muse---because of how familiar he is. (also, back with my rp partner i had on discord, neil was their faceclaim as well so that's a double whammy)

TAGGED BY: @wildskissed TAGGING: @crimesought @shdwtouch @crownshattered @stilettobite + anyone else that wants to do this!!!

#ooc // dxnse macabre. #mun // dxnse macabre. #// i'm late to munday but whatever it's okay LOL #// you didnt see me accidentally post this early #// shhh

[rebrandedbard]

Fanfiction Writer Bingo

thanks for the tag @joeys-piano! Looks like I got four bingos.

Fandoms I Write For

The Witcher. I'm a one at a time brainrot kind of guy.

Fandoms I've Written For (in order from most recent to oldest)

Yugioh. It's about fucking destiny and defying death to choose your own way in life (Seto Kaiba stan).

The Hobbit. Yes, it was about Smaug and Bilbo. Yes, this was directly influenced by Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch being in the movie at a time when I was obsessed with Sherlock.

The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. See above.

Star Trek. Also see above.

The Avengers. I did some little comics freshman year of college.

My Little Pony. I first came to tumblr to make a fan comic of a fan comic! Greatly improved my art. Got my first tablet in this era.

Sherlock. We've all got a dark past. This coincided with me discovering I was queer. I had the hair and cheekbones and a friend who liked cosplay who introduced me to it by saying it was gay. I was doomed from the start.

Supernatural. Wrote a couple of things as a gift for my high school old best friend; the one who introduced me to Sherlock. You can see how I was influenced lmao. Only watched one season of the show. Never even seen Castiel on screen.

Shugo Chara. Baby's first fanfic. Back when Deviantart was a thing and I was like 12-13ish. Maybe 14?? I honestly can't remember how old I was, but I was YOUNG.

#I have no taste <3 #tag game