#buckle up butter cup

[felrend]

“You are not ready”

#god of war #god of war 2018 #kratos #papa kratos #atreus #BOY #the anger in his face #buckle up butter cup #video games #PlayStation #playstation 5 #screen shots

[rubyeyebabybat]

I usually find a song and am like omg that goes so well with the story I'm writing! Yesterday, I found a song that was just pure inspiration! Like...the music informed my writing in a new and interesting way I'm not used to! All this to say, this one character's backstory just got SO MUCH WORSE. 🙌😊❤️

#writing #fanfic #music inspiration #buckle up butter cup

[winterrose42]

Dont feel good, didnt get up til way late n dont wanna get ready for work i just cant, already fucked my vacation days all up so whatever im calling off and having a bed day.

Couple hours later itchy itchy itchy should be at eork doing thing why arent we diing things body needs to move and do its work time why bed??? Itchy itchy itchy - you know what we could do. Deep clean the room and get that shelf put together and organize things.

#winter speaks #so anyway turns out what i needed to get my months worth of cleaning and shit done was to be sick and take a day off #dont wanna work while not feeling good? wrll buckle up butter cup youre gonna clean like someones out for your blood #someone please knock me unconcious and take my bones out to scrub i am so tired

[l1tw1ck]

Newlyweds

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 1,947🕷️

[Part One] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Menstruation (No Period Sex), Lingerie, Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Impregnating, Mating Press, Lactation Mention, Praise Kink

Miguel wakes up with pain. A lot of pain. Along with discomfort and the familiar feeling and smell of blood. Of course he starts his period unexpectedly in your bed. Not only that but he has cramps and a hangover. Great way to start the morning. He hopes you at least have advil. He taps your shoulder and wakes you up.

“What's wrong?” You ask, noticing that it's still pretty early in the morning.

“I’m on my period.” He frowns. “Sorry…about your sheets.”

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault. Do you need anything? Food, meds, something hot?” You get out of the bed. Miguel shakily gets out as well.

“A shower would be nice…and some ibuprofen? Or advil?”

“No problem. Luckily for you, I have some pads or tampons you can use. I keep them for when family visits. Do you use a heating pad? I have one of those too.”

“Yeah, a heating pad would be helpful.” He nods. “I prefer pads.”

“Okay, go ahead and get in the shower, I’ll leave some clothes out for you to wear. Oh, and you’ll need to eat something too. Is there anything you prefer?”

“Whatever you can make is fine.”

“Alright, I'll get everything you need. Take as long as you want in the shower.”

.....

Miguel gets out of the shower and walks into your room. The bed is stripped and the bloody parts are being soaked in a cleaning mixture. He hopes he didn't ruin your mattress. He looks at the pair of boxers you left for him and frowns. It's no surprise that you don't have any panties, why would you? But wearing pads with boxers isn't very….safe. It's a good thing the two of you are neighbors, he’ll have to ask you to get him a pair of underwear. He pulls up the boxers half way and applies the pad, praying that it’ll do the job, and pulls it up completely. He puts on your shirt, happy that it's big on him, and puts on the pair of shorts.

He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey..”

“Hey! There’s the meds.” You point to the bottle of ibuprofen and cup of water next to it. “I’m making pancakes. How do you like ‘em?”

“With butter and syrup.” Miguel looks at the medicine bottle and concludes that he’ll thankfully only have to take one. He hates taking pain medication because of the risks but they're unbelievably helpful. He sighs, putting a pill in his mouth and swallowing it with water.

“...Hey, at least you're not pregnant yet.” You smile sheepishly.

Miguel chuckles. “We should probably start planning for when I actually am pregnant.”

“Yeah…I’ll have to start packing my things soon, right? I don't want Gabriella to have to worry about moving her stuff here.”

He appreciates how you consider his daughter too. “That’d be the best way.”

“At least we're neighbors, that’ll make the process much easier.”

“That reminds me…can you…can you go to my house and get me a pair of panties? They're specifically made for periods…I have a box of period stuff in my closet, you’ll know it when you see it. I’d go myself but-”

“Don't worry about it, babe. I’ll get it for you. After you eat, you can go lay down in the guest bedroom, I already put the heating pad in there. If you want, I’ll pick Gabi up and bring her here.”

“Please. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You kiss his forehead.

Gabi walks up to your car, confused. “Why are you picking me up?”

“Your dad’s feeling sick so he asked me to come get you.”

“Oh. Is papá okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. He’s just on his period.” You nod. “Come on, get in.”

Gabriella grimaces, feeling bad for her dad. She gets into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt.

“So…What do you think about coming to my place and eating dinner with me and your dad?”

Gabriella grins. “Are you gonna cook?”

“Of course! Whatever you want.”

“Then…Can you make burgers? I haven't had a burger in soo long! Papá sucks at cooking and he thinks fast food burgers are made of rat meat!”

You laugh. “Sure thing. What kind of burger? And do you want fries too? I can make ‘em from scratch.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? I love fries! And I really wanna try a bacon cheeseburger!”

“You got it, Gabi.”

“You’re so good at cooking! I wish Papà could cook like you.” Gabriella wipes her face clean.

“Hey! I can cook just fine, Gabi!”

“Then how come we had to order takeout the other night because you made green goop?”

“Green goop?” You look at Miguel, grinning.

“It was supposed to be green, okay?!”

“Mhm~” You hum in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe I need to save Gabi from your horrible cooking.”

“Please! You guys should get married. Then you can cook us dinner all the time!”

You look at Miguel.

Miguel looks at you and nods. “Well…Actually, mija…”

She looks at him curiously.

“We are getting married.” He can't hide his happiness.

Her entire face lights up. “Really?!” She puts her game down and stands up. “Am I really gonna get an hermanito now?!”

“Yes, mija.” Miguel chuckles.

“When are you gonna order them?!”

“...Order?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You know, go to the stork postal service and order a baby!”

You and Miguel look at her, dumbfounded.

“What?” She frowns.

“Mija…We need to teach you where babies really come from..”

After the horrifying explanation (which was actually very tame compared to the talk Miguel’s parents gave him), Gabriella accepted the fact that babies are in fact not delivered by storks. Miguel doesn't even know where she got that from.

Now she's started to see you as the second father you’ll soon become. Rather than using your name, she calls you dad. It makes you happy to know she's so accepting of you as her father. She invites you to her soccer games and school events and of course you show up to everything you can. She loves that she has two parents. It's so comforting to see the two of you in the bleachers while she's playing. And now it's a lot less likely for her to be alone at events. If Miguel’s working, you usually show up and vice versa.

And of course she’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding. She’s almost more excited about the wedding than the two of you are.

Miguel walks down the aisle, holding a beautiful bouquet of red and blue roses. He looks gorgeous. You can't wait for your honeymoon.

He walks up to you and gets into place.

“You look beautiful.” You smile at him.

“Thank you..” He replies, bashful.

You’re lost in Miguel’s beauty for the entire ceremony, only paying attention to when it's time to exchange rings, say your vows, and say “I do.”

You go in to kiss Miguel, sad that you can only peck him on the lips. You don't want to traumatize all the children with a french kiss. You pick him up and carry him bridal style.

“Do you wanna stay?” You ask.

“I wanna make our baby.” He says.

You nod and start running towards the jet you rented. Everyone in the crowd watches in shock as you abandon the wedding. Miguel throws his bouquet and a ton of people scramble to grab it. Thankfully for you two, Gabriella is staying with her grandparents so you can escape to your honeymoon without worry.

Miguel walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a beautiful lingerie set. A red lacy bra and panties along with matching stockings with garters to hold them up.

You hurry over to him. “You look amazing.” You grope his ass and give him a soft kiss. “Lay down.”

Miguel gets onto the bed and lies down, waiting for your next move. You grab his thighs and kneel in front of the bed, pulling him close to you. There's a gap in his panties for easy access. You press kisses along his thighs, occasionally sucking and biting them. You move to his pussy, pressing a kiss against his erect t-dick. He twitches in response. You bring it into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.

“Fu- fuck–” He moans, curling his toes. He throws his head back and gasps as you start sucking him off while simultaneously slipping two of your fingers inside him. Miguel arches his back, moans getting increasingly louder as you finger him. “God yes–” He grins. “‘M gonna come-”

You pull away from him, still working his insides with your fingers. “What do you say, Miguel?”

“Pl- please~ please let me come, Daddy~”

“Good boy.” You go back to sucking on his dick. Miguel shakes as he squirts, drenching you in his pleasure. You lick up his slick before pulling away. “Tell me when you're ready.” You stand up and take your clothes off.

“I’m ready..” He moves backwards and spreads his folds with two of his fingers. “Please breed me, Daddy..”

You smirk. You climb onto the bed and align your length with his hole. Miguel watches intently as you slowly ease yourself inside him. The two of you watch as a bulge appears in his stomach the further you go in. “You're gorgeous, Miguel.” You run your hands up his body and grope his breasts. “You’ll let me get a taste once you start lactating, right?”

Miguel smiles. “Just a taste.”

You bring him into a deep kiss and inch yourself further inside him. Miguel gently moves his hips once he feels you bottom out, desperate to have you fuck him. You part from the kiss and move to his neck, lightly kissing his skin. “I love you.” You murmur before pulling away. You grab his legs and move him into a mating press. Miguel barely has time to process what you just did thanks to your sudden and rough thrusts. He grabs onto your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and moans loudly as you properly breed his pussy. He can barely keep his eyes focused but just glimpsing upon your aroused expression makes his heart race even faster. It perfectly displays how much you love him and how good he's making you feel. He happily listens to your breathy words of praise and your low sounds of pleasure, falling deeper in love with you as the two of you completely tie yourselves together forever. He’s never been happier.

He already feels himself reaching his orgasm. “‘M clo- oh- close~!” He cries out. “Fuck-” He gasps, suddenly coming. He digs deeper into your skin when he feels you slow down. “Don’t- don’t you dare stop-” He almost growls at you. You take that as a warning and resume your previous pace. He manages to stay sane even as you continue to fuck his sensitive cunt, all for the sake of feeling you impregnate him. Just that is enough to give him strength to keep going.

“You're doing so- so good, Miguel.” You let out a low sound of pleasure. “Such a good boy for me..”

He moans happily.

“And you feel so fucking good..” Your breathing becomes more labored. “Making me come so fast with your tight pussy-” You groan, stopping as you fill him up with your first load of the night. He feels euphoric as your cum invades his insides.

“More…” He looks up at you with the cutest expression.

“I won't stop until I’m shooting blanks, baby.”

Miguel grins. He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your kids.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x reader #bottom miguel o'hara #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x male reader #across the spiderverse smut #across the spiderverse x male reader #🕯️miguel o'hara #🕯️marvel #🕯️spider man

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Cold nights, red Flannel

Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader

Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.

Joel Miller Master List

Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.

The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.

“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.

“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.

You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.

Only a child.

Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.

“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.

“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.

The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.

Had to of been some kind of enforcer.

“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.

You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.

The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.

“What happened?”

“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.

Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.

You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.

Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.

Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.

You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.

You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.

With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”

The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.

It was the talk of the job.

Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.

From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.

Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.

“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”

“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.

Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.

“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.

Not much has changed since the end of the world.

“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.

“Wait what?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.

You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.

Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.

Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”

When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.

“Hey… shit… my power is out.”

“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.

“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.

This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.

Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”

You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.

In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.

This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.

Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.

Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”

Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”

“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.

You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”

You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.

Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.

“What?”

“Do I smell… cookies?”

Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”

Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.

“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.

He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.

“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”

“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Really? Are you-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”

A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”

“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.

“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”

He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”

“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.

Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”

You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”

“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.

Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.

“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”

Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.

“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”

Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.

“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.

“J-Joel?”

His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.

“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.

You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.

Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.

Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”

You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”

Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”

“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.

Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.

Okay.

Maybe you were wrong.

Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.

“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.

“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.

Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.

It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.

He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.

“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”

“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.

It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.

Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…

Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.

Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.

It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.

And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.

All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”

You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.

I’m going to hell.

It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…

Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.

“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.

“What…” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.

“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.

“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.

“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.

Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…

You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.

“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”

“Th-this is okay.”

With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.

Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.

You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.

“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.

Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”

You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.

“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.

Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.

The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.

“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.

Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”

But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.

“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”

“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.

You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”

You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.

He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.

“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.

“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.

“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.

“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.

Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.

“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.

Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.

“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.

“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.

You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”

Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”

“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel Miller breeding

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 48

Part 1 Part 47

The nostalgia of the morning cannot be overstated for Steve. Sure, the fight over the bathroom is more cramped than it used to be, and Eddie’s much grumpier in the mornings than Tommy’s ever been. And yeah, Eddie doesn’t have enough spare toothbrushes, so Steve has to fake disgust when Carol snatches his out of his hand and starts brushing her own teeth with nary a rinse-off.

Carol digs through Eddie’s drawers until she finds a shirt ripped up enough that tucking it into yesterday’s jeans looks like a purposeful statement instead of a walk-of-shame look, ignoring Eddie’s squawking. Steve does the same, and by the time they stumble into the morning dressed and ready, Eddie looks like he’s adopted a couple preps he’s converted to his demonic metal ways. It’s Carol’s hair – too perky by halves. 

And yeah, Uncle Wayne is sitting at the table, eyebrows raised like he’s trying to figure out the minutiae of the three of them coming out of his nephew’s room bright and early on a random Tuesday morning. Sleepovers at Steve or Tommy’s never involved any sort of parental oversight, and one’s at Carol’s involved everyone sneaking out of the window to avoid the breakfast table all together.

“Didn’t make enough toast,” Uncle Wayne mutters tiredly, even as his eyes vertifiably twinkle over his mug as he looks between the three of them before settling onto his nephew.

Eddie, never a morning person even on the best of days, slumps down in his customary chair, thumping his forehead down on the table with a groan. 

Carol scoffs, scooping up a piece of toast and eggs onto one of the two empty plates laid out, glaring at Eddie as she takes a ferocious bite. Then, seemingly remembering her manners, she smiles over at Uncle Wayne like butter wouldn’t melt and sweetly says, “thank you, Uncle Wayne.”

Steve goes to the counter, shoving two more pieces of bread in the toaster and waiting impatiently for them to pop back up. 

Behind him, Eddie’s near-snoring into his eggs, snuffling. Steve turns around, smiling as Uncle Wayne elbows him in the ribs. “Introduce me to your friend, boy.”

“Not my friend,” Eddie mutters. Steve turns back force the half-baked toas up and out of the toaster impatiently just as Eddie hurriedly continues, “but this is Carol Perkins! Steve’s–”

“Best friend,” Carol says. Steve slides back over to them, leaning against the fridge to watch the show, unwilling to slink off into the living room when there’s a show to be had. He eats both pieces dry, choking it down with a glass of orange juice he pours from the fridge.

He downs the cup, wiping his juice-mustache, before meeting Uncle Wayne’s judgemental eyes. “Don’t have room for another stow-away.”

Carol chokes on her eggs as Steve laughs. “This one will be leaving,” he says.

Everyone ignores Eddie grumbling quietly under his breath. “Aww, Stevie,” she says, pouting up at him and lowering one of her eyelids mockingly. “You trying to get rid of little old me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back to rinse out his juice cup before putting it carefully on the rack to dry. “Whatever,” he mutters, walking past the table to go snag their backpacks from Eddie’s room, stomping out of the trailer with a called, “bye, Uncle Wayne!” to wait for the other two by the van.

Eddie comes stumbling out, clearly being pushed along by an unmerciful Carol. He slides into the driver’s seat just as Steve’s buckling his seatbelt. Instead of settling down in the back, Carol sits between them on the floor, bickering with Eddie over what cassette they should play.

When they park, Carol barely waits for the van to come to a complete stop before jumping out and skipping off, blowing a kiss over her shoulder just before she melds into the mob that is the student body at large.

Steve and Eddie sit in silence for a moment, reveling in the silence, like the echoing quiet after a bomb has gone off. Or when the cops come, and someone cuts the music at a party.

“What a freak,” Eddie says. He sounds like he can’t decide between being impressed or disgusted by her, unsure where he’s going to land.

Steve laughs, sliding out of the car himself, following in Carol’s wake. The day passes, Steve rides the wave of it, a buoy on the waves that never quiet settles into one spot.

It’s not Carol who sits at their table at lunch, but a Nancy-less Jonathan. Steve smiles absently at him as he squeezes between Steve and Eddie, eyes shifting over to his old table. Carol’s already there, whispering heatedly into Tommy’s ear. He looks sullen, eyebrows pinched and mouth sneering the way it always does when someone tells him something he doesn’t want to hear. Carol smack him with the back of her hand, hard in the arm until he leans away, full-on scowling as she continues to scold him.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess the topic of their conversation, especially after Tommy’s eyes lock with Steve’s across the busy lunchroom. Their gazes hold. Tommy looks serious, sad in a way he rarely is, even more rarely lets show in public. Steve’s heart shudders, the long-buried desire for the past rearing its head.

But then Jonathan leans into him, whispers, “I think we should tell someone,” and Steve glances his way.

When he looks back, Tommy’s turned away entirely, slamming the contents of his tray into the trash as he stalks out of the cafeteria entirely. Steve looks back to Carol, who meets his eyes with a snarl on her face, shrugging, like she’s indifferent to Tommy’s reaction. Steve sighs, looking away.

“Tell someone what?” Steve asks quietly.

Jonathan leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “About your weird powers,” Jonathan replies, the “duh” silent but heavily implied by his tone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, looking over Jonathan’s head at Eddie, who looks just as baffled as he is. “…who?” Eddie asks, just as Steve says, “why?”

Jonathan looks back and forth between them, his eyes just as intense as usual. “The lab people contacted Mom,” he says, mouth barely moving. “They wanted to check up on Will, see how he’s doing.”

Steve looks at Eddie over Jonathan’s hunched shoulders. For once, he can’t tell what Eddie’s thinking. Can’t even tell what he’s thinking himself besides a visceral reaction of wrong wrong wrong that makes him want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and small.

“Uh, they experimented on a kid, dude,” Eddie says, scoffing. “No way in hell should we trust them with any further weirdness.”

“They what?” Steve demands.

Eddie waves his hand placatingly. “Later, Stevie,” he says, not taking his eyes away from Jonathan. “If Mama Byers wants to trust shady government goons, you shouldn’t tell her either.”

Jonathan looks down at the table. Steve notices he hadn’t even bothered to grab lunch before sitting down. He scoots his own food closer to Jonathan, feels relieved when he immediately steals a couple fries.

“But what if she makes him go?” Jonathan whispers around the fry in his mouth. “What if there’s something actually wrong with Will?” Left unsaid, is that if something’s wrong with Will, there’s something wrong with all three of them.

The tight ball of Steve’s emotions curls up tighter, constricting his throat until it’s hard to choke out, “we’ll go with him.”

Eddie squawks, “what?” incredulously, leaning over Jonathan like he wants to shake Steve where he sits. Their friends quiet around the table, staring over at them, attention caught from Eddie’s shocked outburst. Eddie smiles nervously around the table before murmuring from the side of his mouth, “fucking fine!”

Steve slumps, relieved. Disappointed. Stressed enough that his organs are eating themselves inside him.

He eats a fry, like a normal boy on a normal Tuesday lunchtime would do. “Let us know what she decides to do,” he demands.

Jonathan nods. He spends the rest of lunch taking up space between them. A Byers is a Byers is a Byers, but Steve can’t help spending the rest of lunch tugging at the tie between him and Will, hoping the kid is okay.

Part 49

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free - Chapter 10: Hymne à L'amour

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Oral sex (m to f), a smidge of edging, handjob, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasms.

Word Count: 4.1k. Who is surprised the sex chapter is my longest? Yeah me neither

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the smutty goodness people. Please heed the warning change. if you want your story chaste, please skip this chapter. There is no plot, just porn. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

As soon as your lips meet his, he grabs your face and kisses you back harder than he ever has, a faintly panted growl that makes something turn molten inside. Kissing you like his life depends on it, an urgency in his tongue and lips that stun you.

You go to say his name, but he swallows it and hushes you, his lips never leaving yours as he does so. One hand slides down your front as you kiss, a teasing trail of fingers over your clavicle that makes all your senses fire. He pulls back and stares intently into your eyes as the hand slides lower and cups your breast through your dress.

“Benedict,” you gasp, and the look of victory on his face is devastatingly handsome. He doesn't break eye contact as his thumb swipes gently over your nipple, and your breath hitches a rasping inhale.

“There it is,” he smiles crookedly, “that sound I love to hear.” 

His thumb swipes with a little more pressure but still maddeningly slow. You already feel on tenterhooks, heart hammering, body rioting—part of you wants him to be fast, maybe even a little rough, for him to be impatient from the same boiling passion that you feel simmering in your bones. Another part of you wants him to go so slow that you are clawing at him, broken and wrecked, pleading for him to take pity on you as you tremble and teeter so close to something mind-blowing. 

Neither of those extremes is anything you have experienced yet, and you want him to be the one to give you both more than you want to breathe—a passion only he can evoke. You have seen glimpses of him untamed, especially last night in the cottage when he sent you away, his whole being seemingly shaking with need; you want to inspire that in him again, now, tomorrow, maybe always. 

“Undress me….” a hushed plea you exhale shakily, desperation for him to touch your flesh.

He pulls back a fraction, eyes glittering, hand still upon your breast. 

“Like this?” his voice like butter as that hand moves to the top pearl button over your sternum, a teasing crooked smile on his lips as you breathe heavily and stare up at him.  

The air feels charged as his fingertips brush featherlight down the sliver of skin he reveals, with each button popping open, leaving a little trail of fire all the way to your navel. The buttons continue to the hem at your knees, and you want to groan as he slips to his knees before you and continues the unfastening at a steady but unrushed pace, staring up to catalogue your face as you look down at him.

You quake as his fingers pass close over the front of your underwear but do not touch, and you want to whimper. He keeps going, deft fingers undoing each button over your thighs, goosebumps raising as you feel his warm breath ghosting between the fabric as he works. When the last is undone, he leans back on his haunches and looks up at you again, eyes blazing. 

“Take it off.” 

It’s halfway between a plea and an order, maybe both and your body blossoms all over, tangy want metallic on your tongue. The pure desire writ large on his face gives you the confidence to reach up and push the fabric off your shoulders, allowing the dress to part and fall to the floor behind you, hitting the carpet with a soft whump. Your knees almost buckle at the noise he strangles in the back of his throat as you tower above him in bra, underwear and stockings. 

“Touch me… please,” it’s a quiet but imploring request.

Almost reverential, his hands raise and ghost over your knees then thighs, not yet touching, almost as if there is too much choice, and he has no idea where to begin. Then they land heavily on the outer flare of your hips, a grip that is strong but not harsh and his face pitches forward, burying his warm nose into your navel and inhaling deeply before dropping a tender kiss right on the sensitive spot at the top of your belly button. You want to curl forward over him, the breath swept from your lungs at this simple gesture. Your hands grip his warm, broad shoulders as he nuzzles into you.

“You smell so sweet,” he almost sounds pained, wistful, his hands sliding around to cup the globes of your button and propel you further into his arms. 

He is clinging to you, strong arms wrapped around your hips, his knees on either side of your feet. He drops a line of kisses across your belly that has your abdominals rippling and a shiver running all over you as his fingers deftly unhook your stockings and pull them gently down your legs. Kneeling before you as if worshipping your body. Clinging to you like his very life depended upon it, looking up at you with devoted, blown pupils. It's a potent elixir and makes you want to strip bare for him.

As you step out of your stockings, you let go of his shoulders to reach behind and unhook your bra before the spell is broken, boldly throwing it aside as he makes a joyous noise and pushes up onto his knees, latching onto your nipple with a suction that has you calling out his name. It makes him feral, almost snarling, hands kneading your lace-clad bottom as he sucks harder, and you flood your underwear, the need for him making you shudder.

“Don't stop…” your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, your tooth snagging your lip, eyes fluttering shut as he swaps to your other breast and your fingers card into his thick, luscious head of hair, massaging his scalp with little swirling motions that match the wet tongue circling your areola.

“Please look at me….” he calls, and your eyes reopen to see him looking up at you as he flattens his tongue and licks over your puckered nipple, his eyes flashing fire, wanting you to watch him do this to you, watch your body physically change under his ministrations, your skin flushing darker.

Just as time seems to slow like molasses, he suddenly stands up. A complete change of pace as you are hauled high into his arms, like in the kitchen this morning, your legs twine around his waist on instinct, feeling something hard on your damp knickers as his lips crash into yours, urgent, hot, passionate. Then he is moving, slim hips flexing against your inner thighs and your back is pressed into the wall, the velvet wallpaper tickling your spine, the pictures rattling in their frames as he takes your hands and pins them above your head, fingers sinking between yours, so your hands form a tight fist together, your wedding rings clinking together. 

“You make me wild, wreckless, wanton…” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, his being racked with that same trembling you felt before he sent you away last night.

“The feeling is mutual,” you assure, panting lightly, the slightly rough treatment such a contrast to the slow reverence he knelt before you in.

It’s a compulsion, a magnetic pull, something in your chemistry pulling you to each other even though you met barely days ago. Putting aside the added complication of marriage from your mind as you concentrate on the physical. He makes you bold in ways you never expected and awakens things within you you didn't know even existed. You want him to act on every instinct he has, want him not to hold back. It feels at once ethereal and rooted deeply in something physical—primaeval, dark, damp and earthy, like soil.

Rather than speak words, you tilt your hips where they wrap around his body and rub yourself shamelessly over the hard mass you can feel through his pyjama bottoms. His grip on your hands slackens, and his face buries into your neck, almost biting with intensity as he sucks the cord of your neck and you repeat your move, your swollen nub mashed deliciously onto his hardness, the lace of your underwear just heightening the heady sensation.

“I want to hear you beg...” he confesses, sounding guilty but compelled to utter it, his lips still on your neck. “But I also want to indulge your every whim before you even know you have it.”

That he has the capacity to articulate all the same feelings swirling in your head impresses. You feel you can barely string a sentence together, need overwhelming your usually razor-sharp mind. 

“Please….” 

It's all you can say in response, but it seems enough. With another untamed noise, you are on the move again, and within seconds, he is lowering you onto the bed, hovering over you in a way that fills your whole field of vision.

“I need to be the best you have ever had…” confessions tumbling from him as he lowers his weight onto you, heat and muscle pinning you down in a way that has you instantly clawing at his t-shirt, fabric straining over the lithe muscles of his upper back. 

“You already are….” you admit breathily, letting his legs sink between yours and his knees push yours out wide, his hard quad muscle under soft cotton. The pace slowing again to something decadent, rich like dark chocolate.

He leans up onto his knuckles, the mattress dipping on either side of your body as he does so.

“Do not return to him,” he beseeches, earnest vulnerability clouding his expression. “Even if you do not remain with me, he is unworthy of you…”

Something in your chest cracks at his sincerity. “I will never return to him,” you vow over a shaky breath, too afraid to confirm he is the only place you want to be. 

Instead, you do what compels you, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into a kiss. Feeling overwhelmed by him caging you, hands gripping your waist as your tongues tangle, your pelvis mashed to his, wanting him to be as naked as you are.

“Take this off,” you almost whine, plucking at the sleeves of his t-shirt as you surface for breath.

He chuckles at that and sits up slightly to whip it off, a glimpse of a toned torso before the heat of his chest is lowered over yours, and you lose all power of thought. Fingers tracing the contours of tendons you feel flexing on his shoulders as his hands wander, sending a current shimmering over your body until he hooks his fingers into your underwear and starts to tug them down your hips. Shuffling lower, his mouth is again hot on your breasts as your underwear slips further, somehow untangling from you just long enough to discard them. You are utterly naked under him, knowing he can scent your arousal as he drops lower, lingering close to your belly button again, kissing, always kissing.

When he slips lower still something clenches low in your gut.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, a thread of alarm that he is muscling your legs over his shoulders.

He smirks at first then his face falls to one filled with concern. “No one has ever done this to you?” his ask laced with incredulity.

You stare down the plane of your body to his handsome face framed by your own thighs. “N-no,” you stumble out, always unable to lie to him, even now.

“A man cannot claim to love a woman and not do this,” he seems to seethe with an indignation on your behalf - that you have not experienced this before.

“What are you going to do?” you whisper.

His expression changes again - like an entirely different man inhabits him, a seductive look that has your face flushing. Without answering, he lowers his jaw between your legs and ploughs his tongue into the gathered, dewy wetness. You are on a cliff edge, a complete tumult as you inhale - sharp, ragged - the warm muscular swipe of his tongue in a place so intimate. Your hands grasp his forearm on instinct, needing something to hold onto as he does the same again. You swear out loud and writhe, the intensity making your body want to buck hard. A strong hand curling around your pelvis and locking you down to the bed. The static over your skin buzzes, a thrill zipping up your spine as you are held down and, well, devoured. 

He is not gentle, using his whole face to wring a medley of novel sensations. The stubble of his face rasping the delicate skin between your legs, his lips suctioning hard on your folds, his tongue roughly lapping at the hardened pearl hiding there, a shock running high up into your pelvis from how he does so, you can feel yourself swelling and throbbing harder under his attentions. Drawing uneven gulped breaths, occasionally feeling a twinge so strong your abdomen clenches, your head raising off the pillow, a jolt so hard that your whole body seems to contract with a wave of pleasure.

Your hands grasp his hair, steering your pleasure, licking your dry lips. Now you understand why women talk in hushed tones about sex. This makes you want to scream and thrash and never stop. Just as you feel yourself spiralling somewhere truly heady, breath quickening, body boiling, he stops and sits back, looking triumphantly down upon your rippling body, his handsome face glistening in the lamplight with your arousal.

“Why did you stop?” Each word feels an effort to grit out, a large hand holding you down on your lower belly, his middle finger hooked into your belly button as you undulate under his hold.

“Because I want to see you like this,” his voice rich, decadent, sonorous, the tone bordering on smug as his eyes rake over your flushed torso, peaked, puffy nipples, swollen weeping slit, admiring his handiwork.

Even as you are in upheaval, your eyes fall from his victorious face to the bulge in his pyjamas, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. A desire to take him to the edge and then sit back and observe, watch him writhe and flex. Unable to resist, you grab him with a force that makes him startle, his hold on you slackening in surprise. He is so hot and hard, and your fingers wrap around the outline and rub up and down his length. His eyes flash fire as your other hand moves to the drawstring to untie the bow. He doesn't stop you; he assists, climbing out of them as you stare covetously.

You didn't realise men could look so different until now, did not know what you have been missing, almost an apprehension about the scale of what you see. He guides your hand back to his flesh once his clothing is discarded. Velvet smooth and warm, you wrap your hand around him, noting the difference from the only other one you have touched. The noises he makes are different, too; needier, leaking over your knuckle as you squeeze in an upwards motion, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily, and his eyes closing as you glance at his face. So very different and so appealing.

“I have never….” you begin but feel unable to say it.

“You don't have to,” he replies rapidly, eyes popping open.

“But I want to…” you admit tacitly, an urge you have never felt before.

A wolfish grin claims his face, and he gently removes your hand, crawling over you, cupping your face and kissing you deeply, your naked bodies pressed together, his cock branding hot against your belly.

“Another time,” he asserts over your lips, and something inside you vaults that this isn't a momentary, fleeting opportunity. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he is almost hesitant, a benevolence that makes your heart skip, the moment turning tender, loving almost.

“I've never been more certain of anything,” you whisper, heartfelt, genuine, your hands running his sides, stopping to grasp the belt of muscle low around his middle, pushing yourself off the bed and into his warmth to emphasise your point.

With a soft smile and a sotto voce request to let him prepare, he rolls away and gathers a tin from his nightbag. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you realise he is reaching for latex protection. You watch the play of muscles in his back as he does so, unseen, and you reach out and run a soothing hand over his spine on instinct, wanting to touch him any moment you can. He twists and smiles at you, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingers before turning back and crawling over you, a caring streak running through his evident desire.

Then he is upon you again, kissing with fiery intent, caressing your breasts and stomach, sweeping you back into a state where your blood runs hot, your skin glowing with want, that lantern behind your ribs that seems to burn just for him fully ablaze as he nudges your hips open gently with his, a hand guiding himself close to your body now.

“Look at me,” his request silky, and you cannot do anything but - his pupils a sea of inky glass blackness you can see a mirage of yourself in as he pushes into your body.

You thought time stopped when he first kissed you a few days ago. But that was nothing compared to this. A searing stretch so slow but so much more than you have experienced before, your toes curling into the sheets, your fingers digging hard into the rope of muscle pulled taut between his shoulder blades. Still, your eyes do not stray from each other as he keeps going, you holding your breath until he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. He holds still to allow you to adjust, even as you can see how much he is holding back, almost a shake in his being. 

“I’m not made of glass,” you entreat.

His thumb sweeps your bottom lip, his wedding ring cool against your jaw where he cradles your face. 

“But you are precious to me,” he counters, and the swell of emotions those words cause almost knock the wind from your lungs.

But then he starts to move, and you can barely breathe, regardless. He withdraws and then surges back in a wave. The tug deep inside makes you gasp, grab onto him, wrap your legs around his calves, toes tickled by the downy hair there. It is so wholly other than anything you have experienced; the past pales. This is what intimacy truly is. A wash of emotion that you could have gone through life and not known something like this.

“Are you alright?” his face creased with a tender concern as he moves slowly.

“I never knew what I was missing…” nothing but truthful.

His whole demeanour softens, his eyes soft and down-sloped, holding still buried within you; his words seem to echo through your body from where you are joined as he answers.

“You deserve the world, y/n.” 

Emotion bubbles behind your ribs and blooms into sheer want - an impetuous need to channel the words you want to say but daren’t into action. Screwing your eyes shut and biting the edge of your tongue to tamp the urge to ask him to fuck you thoroughly, carnally, take you somewhere no one has before. But it's like he can sense it, for when he starts to move again, it's a snap of his hips that drives him deeper than before, making you moan loudly and rise off the bed, curving bowlike into his body.

You hiss your approval and he does it again, watching you carefully, cataloguing when you open your eyes again and meet his stare challengingly. Telegraphing silently that you want him to be merciless. The bed squeaks in protest as you start to move together, you pushing down as he thrusts up, your right and flying to the headboard to provide leverage, as his teeth scrap down your neck, over your clavicle, suckling hard on your breast as you speed up.

The sharp zing of sensation right down to your core makes you swear under your breath, spurring him on, his shower-damp hair an array of curls shaken loose as you go faster, his gaze like a thick veil you wear, sweeping your face, your body, glancing down to where you are joined, his breath hitched hard at what he glimpses You look too, drawn to the sight like never before, a want to see your body being invaded by him, somehow making it seem real rather than a fevered, lustful dream.

His right hand hooks behind your neck and tangles in your hair, hauling you up to meet his greedy lips, kissing artlessly but full of open-mouthed sighs and moans as you move yet faster, a sheen breaking out over both of your bodies.  Your left hands clasp together on instinct, wedding bands clinking quietly, your eyes drifting to the sound, then back to each other. As if you had almost forgotten what you have done to allow yourself to get to this very moment.

It makes you fearless, so with a flick of your hips that surprises him, you are able to flip him over while he stays inside you, a need to ride, to take control of your own pleasure, something you have never done before. The flash of admiration on his face is priceless, his hands immediately grasping your waist and encouraging you to rise and fall on his cock, finding a whole new world of pleasure, angling to hit your swollen pearl on his pelvis when you sink.

He watches you with hooded eyes, whispering encouraging words, the slight burn in your thighs worth it for the looped call and response of his body and yours, moving faster now, letting him fuck up into you, again meeting each other halfway, as enthused as the other to wring all the pleasure you can from each second.

Then with a lopsided smile, his large hand spans downwards from your hip, his thumb sliding between your legs and hooking over the hood of your clit. The jolt makes you cry out and shudder, his resounding groan loud as you clamp hard around him. 

“Don't you dare stop this time,” it’s almost a command through gritted teeth, and he looks surprised and so aroused you feel him ripple inside you. 

He does as bidden, his blunt thumbnail catching perfectly around the side of your clit, the pad mashed against you as you ride hard now, muscles protesting, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine from your hairline. You are climbing again, just as he had you when his tongue was there; the memory of it drives you harder. Until you feel that dam breaking, your whole body wound tight and suddenly snapping with a violent release, a technicolour explosion behind your eyelids. Slamming down on Benedict, who calls out roughly as you come around him, gripped upon him tight as you flutter, his cock feeling so huge you swear you will still feel its imprint tomorrow. It never seems to end the sensation racing down your limbs to fizzle in your toes and fingers, a true livewire. Underneath you, Benedict grips your hips with a curse and a long, low groan; you feel him breaking, too, a pulsing ripple travelling up his length as he spills into the latex between you.

You slump forward onto his chest, heaving gulps of air, feeling so many contradictions - sated but still hungry, energised but exhausted, aching but ready to go again just to chase that intangible high. Benedict's lips are hot on your damp forehead, and you push off him slightly, a hitch in his breath as you do, your lips meeting in a prolonged kiss, an endnote to this symphony.

“I've never done that before,” you confess over a gratified giggle.

His smile is warm, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes. “Which part?”

“Both being on top and that…” suddenly shy to state the word.

He looks momentarily shocked. “Then I am so glad you got scammed,” he says with a conviction that makes you frown fleetingly. “I could not allow a world where you would go back to America and never have an orgasm…”

He is sincere, but something in the way he says it makes you break out into happy, carefree peals of laughter that has him joining in as he slips from inside your body.

This lighthearted moment seems to break any tension there may be about words you could say; it means you are still giggling together as he rolls you aside and, after discarding the condom, pulls you into his arms, both of you suddenly bone tired from the rollercoaster of a day.

“I am so glad I got scammed too,” you offer sleepily; he huffs a laugh, matching smiles as sleep claims you both almost instantly. 

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Benedict taglist pt 1: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[apoemaday]

Hector the Collector

by Shel Silverstein

Hector the Collector Collected bits of string, Collected dolls with broken heads And rusty bells that would not ring. Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks, Twists of wires, worn-out tires, Paper bags and broken bricks. Old chipped vases, half shoelaces, Gatlin’ guns that wouldn’t shoot, Leaky boasts that wouldn’t float And stopped-up horns that wouldn’t toot. Butter knives that had no handles, Copper keys that fit no locks Rings that were too small for fingers, Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks. Worn-out belts that had no buckles, ‘Lectric trains that had no tracks, Airplane models, broken bottles, Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks. Hector the Collector Loved these things with all his soul– Loved them more then shining diamonds, Loved them more then glistenin’ gold. Hector called to all the people, 'Come and share my treasure trunk!’ And all the silly sightless people Came and looked…and called it junk.

#poetry #shel silverstein #hector the collector

[enchantedchocolatebars]

I suddenly remembered all your posts about Camila's reactions to the appearance of Beardo Philip and an idea struck me.

As usual, Belos Redemption AU, Philip lives in Noseda's House with the HexSquad, they all cool with him.

Fic - Belos discovers that he can change his appearance and turns into Beardo Phillip. He is so happy that he looks young again, but he is worried about strange reactions and looks from Camilla. Is she sick?

Hairy Bodies Are Hot

Camila's car took a turn into the Gravesfield Playhouse parking lot as she searched for a place to park.

Once she did, she put her car in reverse and backed into the open space.

Next to the theater entrance was a floor stand with a poster framed inside that read "Auditions."

Another poster, which was framed on one of the windows of the theatrical building, had the words "Gravesfield's Greatest Witch Hunters: A Tale Of The Brothers Wittebane" labeled in big bold letters above a picture of the Wittebane Brothers' statues.

Turning the car off, Camila removed the keys from the ignition and placed them in the armrest cup holder beside her.

She then offered a smile to Belos Philip, who was sitting in the front passenger seat next to her.

Despite this being his first ever audition, Philip didn't seem to show any signs of being nervous.

"Now Philip," Camila said as she began her pep-talk to the former witch hunter, closing her eyes.

"Remember, when you walk in there, do so with your head held high and show the casting director your most confident and professional self, but avoid boasting. Next, you'll want to make sure that..."

As Camila continued to give her good advice to Philip, she failed to notice the swift transformation taking place in her presence.

"... Finally, and this is important, you have to..."

The first thing Camila saw upon opening her eyes caused them to widen, red immediately rushing to her cheeks.

"Aaaa!" Camila shrieks in terror at the younger man now sitting in the passenger seat.

He was wearing Philip's coat, along with a bushy brown beard and an adorable smile as he looked at the mother.

"Wh-What's going on?" Camila asked the man as her eyes quickly shifted for something to pick up and protect herself with if needed.

Her la chancla was at home.

"Wh-Where's Philip? What have you done with him, you..."

She proceeded to slowly look him up and down. "Handsome stranger?"

Camila bit her tongue a little too late as she mentally facepalmed at her last sentence.

Did she really just call him that?

The brunette released a small chuckle. "Camila, my dear, whatever do you mean? I'm right here," he told her.

Camila did a double take as she blinked. "P-Philip?! That's... you?!" she asked. "But how?!"

"Last week, I discovered a method to modify my appearance. If I want to obtain the role as my younger self, one of the best ways to do so is to look the part," he explained in a charming voice that Camila found absolutely irresistible.

She felt her form melt like butter in a pan.

Philip refused to stand for the nonsensical injustice that was presented in Masha's hayride story at the Halloween festival.

"O-Oh! Okay then! That makes sense. Well, break a leg," Camila awkwardly wished Philip with a flushed face as he got out of the car.

He smiled at her kindly once more.

"Thank you," Philip said, closing the door.

As he walked toward the playhouse building, Camila continued to stare at him, her blush growing stronger.

...

"S-So, how did it go?" Camila asked Philip as he stepped back into the car.

His smile was brimming with pure, genuine excitement as he shut the door. "I was given the role of myself!" he beamed, buckling up.

"The director had nothing but praise for my performance."

Camila smiled at the news, her face still warm. "That's great, Philip. I'm so happy for you."

Philip shortly took notice of Camila's red face, concern soon crossing on his own.

He gently grasped her chin as he observed her flushed features, which caught her off guard, and a surprised squeak escaped her.

"Your face is terribly red, love. You're not becoming ill, are you?" he gently asked.

Camila swiftly shook her head and pulled away, quickly grabbing her keys and starting the car.

"O-Of course not!" she responded.

Once she carefully drove forward and turned her steering wheel, Camila commenced driving.

"I just forgot to turn on the AC when you left," she chuckled nervously.

...

"Ch-Chest hair," Camila whispered while in the laundry room, holding a familiar dress shirt that she was about to toss into the washing machine.

It was the same one that Philip wore yesterday and was sprinkled with brown body hair.

Someone was obviously shedding.

Camila tightened her grip on the shirt as she began to blush.

"S-So hairy...," she whispered to herself.

#ask #asks #anon #anonymous #the owl house #owl house #toh #emperor belos #belos #philip wittebane #old man belos #beardo philip #moldy crumpet husbando #belosfanstakeover #camielos #camila x belos #belos x camila #camilip #camila x philip #philip x camila #request #requests #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfictions #camila noceda #writing #my writing

[pedge-stuff]

PLEASE WRITE A PART 2 for accident! I’m obsessed

I hadn't planned on it, but... this has been arranged.

accident p. 2 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always.

summary: you let him fuss.

It's well past midnight as you key into the apartment. Pedro busies himself by getting you settled, although his movements are almost as sluggish and haggard as your own. Six hours in the ER had taken its toll.

"Why don't you head up?"

You'd sat on the chair by the door, intent on untying your shoes, but had apparently been staring at them for the last few moments. Without a second thought, Pedro kneeled before you. "I'm gonna take the dogs around the block, and then I'll close up down here."

You are struck, not for the first time this evening, by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. How did you get so lucky?

He jingles the leashes, pausing to kiss your forehead before heading out.

It takes you way too long to get up. Some combination of exhaustion and low-dose Vicodin have you zoning out, effectively sleepwalking without Pedro to move you along. There is a pharmacy baggy on the counter, but by the sluggishness of your thoughts, the remainder of the prescription might need to go untouched.

Eventually, you drag yourself upstairs.

Everything feels dirty. The loaned scrub pants come off easily, shed in the doorway of the ensuite, to be dealt with later. (Thrown away, burned, ripped to shreds... Dealer's choice. Anything to be rid of them and put the whole evening behind you.)

You want to take the hottest shower possible, and scrub off the invisible hospital residue until your skin is raw. But the prospect of standing for long enough to get clean is... logistically impossible.

At least your dominant hand is uninjured. You reach around, fumbling with the buckle on the back of the sling. For a broken bone, it wasn't very high tech— just a few pieces of fabric holding the two halves of your left clavicle in place. But the damn thing may as well have been a rubik's cube, for how impossible it was to unstrap.

That's about where Pedro finds you: back down to your underwear, hunched on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated to tears.

"This is so stupid."

"Baby," he starts softly. His dinner attire has been pared down to slacks and an undershirt. "Please let me do this for you."

A brown paper bag is set on the counter, so he can gently remove the sling, followed by the scrub top. Eyes closed, you wilt on the lid. Pedro reaches to plug the tub, without asking, though you nod slowly as he looks back.

The man busies himself as you watch on: changes into a well-loved pair of flannel pajama bottoms, tosses some lavender epsom salt into the slowly-filling water, swears a blue streak doing something suspiciously loud in the other room.

When he returns, slightly red in the face, the bath has been filled.

A not-insignificant part of you had hoped he'd be joining, but Pedro chooses instead to perch on the side, running a hand through your hair as you settle against the porcelain. From within the paper bag, a bag of mini Reeses cups are presented.

"Bodega dinner," he says proudly, adding, "you gotta eat something, baby."

"I'm okay," you whisper, though you're not talking about the peanut butter, at all.

"But you almost weren't," he says hoarsely. "I keep replaying that phone call over and over again in my mind. I think my heart stopped for a second. I just..."

You can only nod, mutely. The feverish, borderline frantic look in his eyes traps any response in your throat. (Honestly, he'd been looking at you like that all night. Hasn't really taken his eyes off you since he found you in the hospital hallway.)

So, you let him fuss.

Out of the tub, you lightly dread bedtime, though you've been fantasizing about sleep now for hours. The doctor had specifically warned against sleeping on either your side or back, instead sending you home with a diagram of how to sleep sitting up. Which sounds worse than a car accident, frankly.

But, upon entering, you discover the bedroom has... transformed? Your bed, normally centered, has been pushed into the corner. One nightstand has been abandoned in the middle of the room.

"I'll move that later," Pedro says sheepishly.

All the pillows on the bed, and from the chaise in the opposite corner of the room, have been gathered in a clumsy pile. The dogs have already assumed their positions against the footer.

Pedro shucks off his undershirt, and crawls into the makeshift nest. With pillows to support his often-fragile back, he reclines against the wall corner. Pats the mattress.

"You can't lay down," he warns, as you shift onto the bed. "The doctor was really particular about that."

"Sitting up," you echo. Although, at this point, you'd crash standing up if it meant you could finally fucking sleep.

Pedro splays his legs. "Come here."

Carefully, one-handed, you maneuver yourself according to his gesturing. Settling, back-to-chest, against him; legs between his legs. Propped up like a rag doll. As if on autopilot, Pedro's arm comes up to wrap across your stomach.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," you protest.

His lips brush your temple. "I promise." His grip tightens; you are a human teddy bear, which feels appropriate, since your brain is full of stuffing.

Each rise and fall of Pedro's chest presses warmly against you. There is nothing to wake up for tomorrow, no alarm to set— you'd cancelled your Sunday Brunch plans sometime between the IV and the x-ray.

"Hey." You loll your head against his shoulder. Can't meet his eyes, from this angle, but in the darkness of the bedroom, it doesn't really matter.

"Hey."

Your fingers lace with his, where they clutch around your side. "I love you."

"Mm." His chin hooks over the top of your head. "You have no idea, sweetheart."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader

[felrend]

#horizon forbidden west #erend #erend vanguardsman #black and white #close ups #i love him #today is Erend day #I don’t give a fuck #buckle up butter cup #heart eyes mother fucker #screen shots

[victimeyez]

Professional//Victim

Introducing...

CW: Drugged whump, captivity, collared whumpee

~

“Here.” 

Thomas stared at the hand outstretched to him, holding a large white pill in the flat of their palm. 

“What is it?” 

“You want me to put it in some peanut butter for you? Fucking take it.” 

He eyed the pill warily. Drugs usually meant something bad was going to happen and they didn’t want him struggling. Thomas mechanically took the pill in his hand.

 “Can I have something to take it with?” Rory sighed dramatically in irritation, but stomped to the sink and poured him some water. He thrust the cup half-filled with tap water into Thomas’s hand a little harder than necessary. In spite of his mood, he was about as relenting as he’d ever be.

 “If you’re good, you can have a little soda when we get there.” 

(Put pill in mouth. Raise glass to lips. Swallow the pill with well water. Try not to wince at the taste. Drink everything you’ve been given while you can get it.)

“Thatta boy Tommy.” Rory clapped him on the shoulder and shook it a little. 

“You’re gonna wanna sit down.” 

By the time the others were ready to go, the pill had kicked in mean. Thomas was too weak to walk and was unceremoniously dragged out to the car. It was all he could do to try not to drool on himself, but this one was strong.

 He was buckled into the back seat, and he slumped against the window, struggling to keep his eyes open just so he could look outside. It was rainy and gray. What luck. He struggled to prop his head up with a heavy arm so he could watch the outside world pass without pressing his forehead to the glass. 

The guys were arguing about something outside the car, and then Rory slid into the seat next to him. “I’d tell you not to start shit, but I’d kinda like to try to see you run when you’re this fucked up.” 

Tommy’s mouth was so dry. So uncomfortable. The world drifts in and out of focus. He tries to shake his head to clear it, but his movements come slow and small. Dry swallows.

 “Where are we going?” 

“That’s not your fucking business, Tommy!” Rory answers cheerfully. 

Another car door shuts, and a bag is passed back to sit between him and Rory. Probably snacks. Road trip then. He feels queasy from taking the pill on an empty stomach. (Don’t complain.) His arm against the window is cold. (Don’t complain.) The last door shuts and the car starts. Rory reaches over to grab his seatbelt and pulls it out all the way, letting go to let it click click click retract back. It tightens painfully on Tommy and locks, restricting him to only the tiniest increment of movement. Every breath fought against the seat belt, pressing painfully on his chest and stomach.

He doesn’t complain.

The last client did a number on him, and he hasn’t been outside the house in weeks. Tommy hungrily takes in the bleak scenery as they roll out of the neighborhood. A podcast starts over the speakers, a tech one Michelle likes. Rory groans and starts moving around beside him. Five years in and it’s all predictable. Tommy doesn’t have to look to know he’s rummaging through his pack for headphones. He watches the houses and the trees pass as long as he can keep his eyes open. It doesn’t last long. 

-

Tommy woke up to a jab in the ribs. “You’re drooling.” He startled blearily and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his fist and it came away wet. He’s too tired to be embarrassed.

-

He must have dozed off again, because the next time he woke up, he was being shaken. They were parked in front of a hotel. It was getting dark, maybe late evening. Hard to tell in the spring when the sun still set so early. The car door was open and Caius leered over him from outside, unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him out without finesse. Tommy struggled to get his feet out under himself, and he had to lean heavily on Caius just to shuffle out. 

There are other people milling around the hotel lounge when they walk through the doors, but Tommy was rendered mute by the drugs, and Caius gave an apologetic smile to onlookers who stared. Clearly his friend had too much to drink. What a nice young man to help him back to the hotel.

They get in the elevator, which was mercifully empty. It smelled like chlorine. Tommy couldn’t keep track of the floors they passed, but Caius dragged him out at last, after a few seconds or maybe a decade. 

Another painful drag, and Caius unlocked a door with a keycard before dumping him unceremoniously inside. Tommy laid on the carpet and waited. He could still see the room.

“How much longer?” Rory asked, staking his place on one of the two king-size beds. 

Michelle was shuffling through his pack on the other side of the bed. “Should be about six more hours. Checkout is at 11, we can grab some food and hit the road. Tommy will be sobered up by the time we get there and ready to rock.”

“I brought a bump just in case,” Rory offered.

Michelle nodded. “Guy doesn’t want him strung out, but it’s good to have on hand.”

Caius was sorting through his bag on the other bed, when he suddenly paused.

“Tommy didn’t have lunch, right? We should get some food in him. I need to grab a cot anyways, I don’t want him to be too stiff tomorrow from sleeping on the floor. What did he have this morning?”

Awkward silence.

“Rory?”

Rory shrugged, avoiding Caius’s stare. “Just the pill.”

A pause. 

"You gave him a high-dose sedative with no food?! He hasn't eaten since, what, 6 (pm?) on Thursday? That's over 26 hours, you fuckin' prick," said Caius, doing quick math.

"It's not my fuckin' job to feed him," Rory said.

"Yes the fuck it is!" Caius snapped back before storming out.

"Whatever, he'll live!" Rory called after him. And when the door was safely closed, added, "Fucker."

Thomas closed his eyes, and sought sleep.

-

He slept surprisingly well through the night, after briefly being woken up for a rushed shower and some food before being dropped back into a worn cot by the beds. Michelle’s alarm went off early enough to grab breakfast, and he was starting to feel a bit more human by the time they were ready to get back on the road. 

Caius approached him and crouched down beside his cot. 

“You know the drill.”

Tommy chewed his lip, but lifted his head when Caius slipped the collar around his neck. With a twist of the collar and a little pressure from his thumbs, Caius sank the curved metal barbs inside the collar into Tommy’s neck before locking it in place. It still hurt, but Tommy didn’t flinch.

“Same as always. Start shit, get fried.”

He held up the small round remote and pressed the button.

All of Tommy’s muscles seized at once, an excruciating cramping after a day of drug-induced weakness. He vaguely registered a hard hit to the back of his head, as his spasming made him smash his head on the frame of the cot.

It let up after a moment and he slumped back into the cot, trying his best to curl in on himself on the narrow bed. His heart beat hard and fast and his head pounded away with it. His hands instinctively came up to the collar, to the hot talons in his neck that it secured. He felt jittery, his teeth chattering with the aftershocks and he shivered. 

“Just a reminder. Come on,” Caius commanded, patting his shoulder a little harder than would be friendly. As if Tommy needed a fucking reminder. 

Caius helped him up onto unsteady feet. A wave of nausea came over him and he pressed a fluttery hand to his mouth.

“You can eat in the car. Let’s move.”

The lobby was much busier than Tommy would have liked. People bustling around, checking out early, grabbing the last of the continental breakfast. A handful of them looked up, curious, at the man shrinking into himself in a black hoodie and a red bandana wrapped around his neck. At the other man leading him carefully out. 

What a nice man, helping his shivering junkie friend out. 

Tommy clenched his fists in his pockets and kept his head down. He knew from painful experience that trying to reach out to them wouldn’t bear fruit.

They met the others already in the car, and this time Cauis sat beside him. A muffin, a granola bar, and water for breakfast. Dessert: a flat, chalky pill. 

“It’ll help you sleep on the road,” Caius offered, as if it was a choice. 

(Pill. Mouth. Water. Swallow.)

Tommy threw it back. He watched the outside world rush by until he was pulled back to sleep.

~

next: x

series masterlist: x

#professional victim #captive whumpee #drugged whumpee #whump

[kcrossvine-art]

Hewwo! baps your face off! TODAY from the big book of Redwall cookin’, we have my fuckin favorite recipe thus far; Rosey's Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cakes- The one that I've actually had ready to go for a few weeks now but I kept eating it too fast to take notes. Buckle into your buggies, hotshots.

(You can find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along, and i plead you do)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake?” YOU MIGHT ASK

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Unsalted butter

Sugar

Eggs

Raspberry jam or jelly

Went to read this recipe and upon realizing i had every ingredient- from start to finish it took about an hour and half from deciding to make it to being able to eat it! 

AND, “what does Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Excellence. Pure comfort. Food that heals bones and hearts. Food that laces up scars. Food you make for your lover in bed on a cold rainy day.

Not quite fluffy, but very soft, smooth center

Crumbly, again soft, outer

Tart raspberry jam is the crown jewel of the piece. Mwah. God.

Rich and refreshing

The sprinkled sugar comes out not overbearingly sweet

Do try to eat/serve these warm, they keep well, but the jam will start to absorb into the pastry

Most jam or fruit filling works here, as long as it has some tartness, the world is your oyster. Grab your oyster fork. Feel weird about having an oyster fork. 

Like a molten lava cakes baby cousin-

. Used fine granulated sugar 

. Used salted butter (and only a pinch of salt instead of tsp.)

. Used raspberry jam

. Served with goat cheese caramel lightly drizzled

. Bumping the cook time up from 15 to 17 minutes let the edges brown a bit more which I recommend I think in the future I would like to also try pairing this with slices of strawberry, or perhaps fresh raspberries placed on top? Its hard to spitball pairing ideas because Most Things would pair fair!!

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

Gentlethems of the Jury, we here at crossy wossys kitschy kitchy, welcome our very first 10/10

I so dearly need to communicate that I've had this art made for a good week now, I first baked this almost 2 weeks ago, and am just now getting around to writing the actual review. I like to have the food in my mouth to write about the flavor/mouthfeels section.  And I kept eating them too fast to take notes. I've used almost a whole bag of sugar making these on repeat and my teeth surely hate me but the heavens sneer enviously.

These fellas don't seem rather persnickety- I think one would have to actively try to mess up the recipe in a way where its no longer delicious. These are essentially scones with more variety in textures and flavors! The aforementioned latest batch was made at 4am halfmindedly with multiple perceived mistakes, and the only difference from the first carefully attended-to batch was that they were slightly less pretty to look at, both being absolutely mouthwatering. 

The low fussy-ness, low spoons (for me!), and delicious outcome that can pair with many drinks, makes this a flawless pastry in my eyes. a proud 10/10, with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling the dough

1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine, chilled and cubed, plus additional for the baking sheet

1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for sprinkling

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Raspberry jam or jelly

Method:

Preheat the oven to 400° F and grease a baking sheet.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers (alternately, pulse the dry ingredients and butter in a food processor) until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the sugar. Make a well in the centre, add the eggs and mix well to form a stiff dough.

Turn the dough out onto a floured board and form it into a roll. Cut the dough into ten pieces, shape them into balls and place them well apart on the baking sheet.

Use your thumb to make a hole in the centre of each and fill the hole with jam or jelly.

Pinch the dough closed over the jam, sprinkle the rock cakes with a little sugar and bake them until golden brown, about 1 5 minutes.

Cool the cakes on a wire rack and eat them while fresh, preferably on the same day.

#redwall #cooking recipe #food #cross cooks redwall #digital art

[thedooristhebluecushion]

Boston can’t see anything beautiful & not destroy it because he does not believe he will ever be worthy of anything beautiful.

Nick allows his insecurities to guide the ship to the point of trying to become what he believes Boston wants.

Mew is more of an enigma, but the pride comes before the fall and I don’t think he’s in control as much as he thinks he is.

Top also doesn’t know how to care for nice things & allows his libido to get in the way of what he really wants - which whether or not he knows it - is a meaningful relationship with Mew.

Ray is broken from the childhood trauma of having parents who either didn’t love him, or loved him with money. When Mew showed him the slightest compassion he latched on because it’s quite possibly the first time anyone had ever shown it to him. Now he doesn’t know how to let that go but he’s trying.

Sand is just trying to get through the fucking day can you all give him a break? But also he let his walls down a little bit for Ray & at the first glimpse of it being for naught he built them back up again. By his own account his life is sharp edges & dust & working your ass off & the minute he aspired to something soft it burned him. <if you couldn’t tell Sand is my baby & I’ll protect him until the day I die>

What I love about this series is that ALL of the characters are flawed, they’re human beings. Admittedly some more than others, but that’s also how the world is. How do we navigate relationships with broken people that we have history with & also happen to love?

Buckle up butter cup I think we’re about to find out.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #boston x nick #bostonnick #top x mew #topmew #sand x ray #sandray

[hotforharrysheart]

Tattoo and A Shave

As the plane landed, you were happy to be home. Home…you were going home with Harry, to your place, a place where you both would be living, well, when you weren’t on travel status. So many things about your world were changing and although somewhat overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine life any other way. On some elemental level you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You and Harry had caught some shut eye on the flight, it was hard not to sleep when you were cuddled together. You swore he had some kind of super magical ability, because when you both plugged in to listen to music, he always selected the best songs to lull you both to sleep. “Years of practice,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You sighed as the driver pulled into the garage, “You awake?” You ask kissing the top of his head. He’d slumped over and propped his head on your shoulder as soon as you both had buckled in.

“Yeah, I’m awake, kinda hungry,” he said raising up stretching his long arms the best he could in the confined space.

“Well, we can have a snack when we get in, yeah?” You say, leaning over to kiss his lips.

“Maybe, I’ll just snack on you, sweetheart…” he says brows waggling with innuendo.

“Not till we’ve had a shower, mister!” You scold, booping him on the nose.

He pouts, “bu’, ‘m huuunnnngry,” he whines.

“You can wait, let’s go in and you can raid the fridge. I’d like an apple and some PB, myself.”

You both make your way into the kitchen and over to the fridge where you find a bottle of sparkling water and a honeycrisp apple. Harry’s still digging around when you make your way out of the pantry with the peanut butter. “I think I want a nice soak in the tub,” you remark reaching for a small plate.

Harry runs his hand over your bum and says, “Here, I’ll cut it, you go up an’ get a bath going an’ I’ll bring this ta ya. Ya wan’ one of those lil cups wi’ PB in it?”

You move to him and raise up on tip toes to kiss his lips “You’re so good to me, H. Yeah, just a couple of tablespoons of PB is good. Thank you,” you mutter against his lips.

“M’kay, go on now…go get naked an’ in our tub,” he smirks.

You turn and head toward the stairs, stop to turn around, “Our tub, huh? I think I could get used to that,” you remark with a shy smile.

“Good, ya better, all ya stuff’s ‘ere,” he teases referring to a few boxes that still need to be gone through.

You skip up the stairs and to the en-suite tub. Turning on the water in the tub and pouring a generous amount of Coconut Sandalwood bubble bath, you notice that all your belongings are sorted on the counter and smile at the sight of your toothbrush next to his. You take a moment to flip on the towel warmer and hang a couple of towels for warming. Piling your hair up on top of your head, you take a quick second to wash your face before you strip down and step into the warm water. “Ahhh…” you moan as you settle in. Is there anything better after a long week than a nice soak in the tub? It’s a little warmer than usual so you hang one leg out on the edge until the water cools off.

Harry arrives shortly after with your apple and peanut butter and your water. He stops short in the doorway and bites his bottom lip, “Jesus, woman, ya look….good enough to eat an’ I jus’ had a snack.”

“You wanna join me?” You say saucily blowing bubbles off your hand.

“God, wish I could, but I need ta answer a coupla emails quickly, then I’ll grab a quick shower after,” he pouts with his bottom lip stuck out.

“Ok, babe, no worries,” you return with a smile.

Harry sets the plate down on the small table next to the tub and leans over to give you a breathtaking kiss. He turns to leave and comes back saying, “God, woman… irresistible…” and leans down for another kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth as you open to take the kiss deeper.

“Mmm, Harry…” you groan as he pulls away.

“I know, baby, I know…s’good, right?” He says, looking in your eyes.

You brush your wet fingers along your lips, “Yes, H, it’s so good.”

He brings himself to leave and heads down to the kitchen to grab his phone and respond to a couple of emails.

In the meantime, you decide to shave your legs and underarms and then just lay your head back for a nice soak.

He’s back in fifteen minutes. You’d let some water out and a trickle of warm water was slowly coming out of the faucet so the water doesn’t get cold. Your snack was gone. You’d been hungrier than you thought. He comes in the en-suite and smiles at you before standing in front of the mirror and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Can you hand me a towel?” You ask, batting your eyelashes. He chuckles and brings you a towel, but instead of handing it to you, he grabs your hand and helps you to stand and then helps you out of the tub. You reach for the towel, but he grabs your arm and starts drying you off. The towel is so warm and his stare so intense you can feel the flush on your cheeks and neck. He squats down to dry your legs, gently moving your legs apart so he can dry you off properly. “Mmmmm…” you groan.

He smiles softly and presses a kiss to your tummy. “S’beautiful.”

He presses another kiss to your tummy. “Gonna shave an’ hop in tha shower.”

You swallow. “Can I watch?”

“Ya wanna watch m’shave?”

You nod. “I could help.”

He smirks and moves so his skin is touching yours. “S’it turn ya on? Shavin’ me?”

“Yes,” you say, breathily. “Always wanted to. Thought about it a lot.”

“Well then…let’s make tha’ fantasy a reality, hmmm?”

He strips out of his clothes and wraps a towel around his narrow waist.

He moves to lay a towel on the vanity and then comes back to pick you up situating you on the vanity. He runs some water in the sink and grabs his shaving cream and razor and stands in front of the mirror. “D’ya want ta do the cream?”

You shake your head no.

He smirks and then puts some cream in his hand and puts it on his face. You’re hardly blinking because you don’t want to miss a thing. You can feel the wetness in between your legs. He moves to stand in front of you and you part your legs so he can stand in between them. He gives you the razor and rests his hands on your thighs. They’re so warm it feels like your skin is burning.

“Where…” your voice is barely a whisper. “Where do you start? Never done this before.”

He moves your hand to his cheek. “Usually start back here an’ move down. Then I do the other side. Save my upper lip, chin, an’ neck fo’ last.”

You swallow.

“Don’ be nervous. Don’ apply too much pressure. Go slow,” he says gently.

You bring the razor to his cheek and do a slow swipe. You touch his bare skin in amazement.

He takes the razor and swirls it in the sink and gives it back to you. You finish one cheek and move to the other. He runs his fingers over his skin. “Ya did good,” he says, voice raspy.

You breathe out slowly and meet his eyes as you move the razor to his upper lip. He stretches his skin for you and you slowly shave his lip. You can help but lean up and press a kiss to his mouth. He chuckles and wipes a small dollop of shaving cream from your mouth with his thumb. He stretches the skin of his chin and you softly move the razor over his chin.

He cleans the razor and then leans back so you can get his neck. Your fingers tighten in the curls on the nape of his neck as you slowly drag the razor over his skin.

You complete the last stroke and grab the washcloth next to you and gently wipe his face. “How’d I do?”

He looks in the mirror behind you and smiles. “Ya did good, love.”

He pushes your legs apart and runs his hands up your thighs. “How’d I do?” His asks, looking at you through his lashes as his fingers move over your pussy. His lips move to your ear. “S’wet fo’ me,” breath hot on your neck.

You whimper. He smacks your lips quickly.

“I’m gettin’ in tha shower. Be right back.”

You slump forward shaking your head as your hands grab the edge of the counter. “You’re mean, Harry Styles…,” you trail off. “Just mean…but in a nice way,” you mutter to yourself as you slip off the counter.

You turn and giggle at the red line across the back of your thighs from the edge of the counter. You apply lotion to your legs, arms and tummy and look in the mirror and pout your lips and furrow your brows. You really need to make a wax appointment because although everything is neat and tidy down there, you could do with a full treatment. You look down and smooth the skin on your mound, it’s not bad, but it’s gonna be a crazy busy week and you could just do it yourself like you did before you were treated to such luxuries as going to the spa. “Actually, that was back when no one was down there but you… so it didn’t really matter,” you say to your mirror reflection.

“D’ya say somethin’ babe?” Harry calls out from the shower.

“No, honey, I was just talking to myself,” you call back over the sound of the running water. You look at his razor and the shave cream and decide to just do it yourself. Pumping out a small dollop you rub your hands together. The smell reminds you of moments ago and the memory strikes at your core once again.

Doing this turned on might be dangerous, you think to yourself and look up in the mirror to see your own smirk and flushed cheeks. “Get it together!” You chastise yourself. You smooth the cream over your mound making sure to cover the sides as you prefer to have a little hair down the middle. Wonder what it would be like to go completely bare, you think to yourself. You shake your head trying to grasp some focus. You jut your hips out and lean over to look down. You look like a shrimp with your back rolled over and your hands trying to be gentle on the delicate skin. You pull the skin taut and take one gentle swipe and miss a section. “Damn!” you say and swish the razor in the water. Using a finger, you smooth some of the cream back over the spot and are just about to attempt another swipe when the water in the shower stops and Harry steps out.

“What’re ya doin’ baby?” He askes brows furrowed as he towels himself off.

You straighten up and turn your head, “I need to get a wax, but it’s gonna be a busy week and I don’t know when I can get in, so I thought I’d just do it myself. But I’m outta practice and I misjudged and didn’t get a spot on one side.” You give him a frown and turn back to look in the mirror

“Why dinna ya jus’ ask me?” He asks casually as if it were the most natural thing for you to do.

You look up in the mirror, “What?” You ask astounded.

“Why don’ I do it?” he says to your reflection running the towel through his wet hair.

“I mean…I didn’t…that’s…most guys wouldn’t wanna do that,” you remark looking down.

“Well, guess ‘s good thin’ ya aren’t datin’ whoever these “most guys are” ‘cuz tha’s jus’ ridiculous,” he says wrapping the towel low around his hips. He stalks toward you and takes the razor from your hand, “Up ya go,” he says as he lifts you back on to the towel you were on earlier. He places both hands on either side of your hips and leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Not to mention, it’s fuckin’ sexy.”

You pull your shoulder up as his breath tickles your ear and the words soak into your sex. “Harry, you sure?” you ask.

His eyes meet yours, “Uhh… yeah, ‘m completely sure. Now spread ya legs wider fo’ me an’ lean back on ya arms.”

You do as he asks, “Wait,” you say sitting back up. “Harry, have you ever done this on a girl before?” You ask biting the inside of your cheek. “No, nevermind, I don’t wanna know,” you say shaking your head.

He leans forward and frames your face with his hands, “No, babe, never done this before, yeah? I mean, I don’ know if tha’ scares ya or wha’.”

“No, I just…I don’t know…,” you say fiddling with the thread loops on the towel below you. “Just don’t wanna think about another…”

He places his finger over your lips, “Never wanted ta take care of anyone else like I wan’ ta take care of you. Never…felt like this.” He’s looking from one eye to the other with intensity and love.

You respond by leaning back on your hands and spreading your legs wider. He runs his hands up and down your thighs. “Hang on,” he says as he pulls out the vanity stool you use when you do your make-up. He drains the water from the sink and puts in a fresh basin of warm water and drops a face towel in the warm water. Squeezing the water from the towel, he wipes the cream from your mound, rinses the towel again and then just places it over your mound. You groan, the warm wetness feels so good. “Gotta warm the skin an’ hair before I put the cream on,” he says thoroughly enjoying the fire in your eyes.

He places a little cream in one hand and uses his forefinger and middle finger from the other to smear a little bit at a time on your mound.

“Feels good,” you moan dropping your head to one side and resting it on your shoulder.

Satisfied with the job at hand he places one hand on your tummy and uses his thumb to pull the skin taut. He swipes the razor through the edge close to the crease where your thigh and mound meet. He has a profoundly serious, furrowed look on his face, like he’s performing a delicate surgery. Pulling the razor away he looks up at your face, “Ya, good?” he questions seriously.

You nod and smile in return.

“D’ya still wan’ tha’ middle bit of hair?” he asks looking at your pussy like it’s his latest project.

“What do you think, baby?” You ask leaning on one hand and putting the other on your tummy and looking down your body to the place in question. “I mean, I’ve never been totally bare, and this is your pussy…,” you trail off biting your bottom lip and looking to him for his reaction.

“Well, wanna try it bare?” He asks looking up to meet your eyes. You nod.

“Kay,” he says and sucks in his bottom lip. “Ya little clit is pokin’ out, love.” He places his forefinger over it and the sensitive skin right at your slit. “Gonna cover it ta protect it,” his brow is furrowed and he’s paying close attention.

You can’t help but moan out and draw up one finger to your mouth, it feels so good, your thighs flex and his arms move with the flex. “Can’t do tha’, love, I’m holdin’ steady on ya legs so ya need ta be still,” he scolds.

“I’m trying to, H, it’s just so…” you can’t finish the sentence.

“Erotic, yeah?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and smile.

“Let’s get this smooth babe, I bet when ‘s smooth ya clit’ll be even mo’ sensitive,” he comments with a smirk.

“Oh God,” you say and your head falls back against the mirror.

“No, don’t look away…. Watch,” he mutters up to you. “My god, ya drippin’.”

He finishes up making sure to protect the sensitive parts, and then uses the face towel to wash the remaining cream from you. He places a single kiss to your bare mound, “How’s it feel?”

You run your hand down to the bare skin, “It feels incredible.”

He smooths the skin himself and kisses it again, “’s sexy as fuck, but I like it either way.”

His hands move to your bum and pull you to the edge of the vanity. He pushes your legs further apart, places a kiss and licks a stripe up your pussy. You’re laying back on your hands, his eyes boring into yours as his mouth hovers over you. His fingers run down the sides of your pussy lips and you moan out. “‘S it more sensitive?” He asks, lips kissing the top of your mound.

“Ahhh! Shit, yes! Can feel everything, fuck!” You cry out as he licks a hard stripe up your slit.

“Gonna hafta take another shower. You’re makin’ a mess on me.”

You groan. You can feel yourself dripping.

He presses forward and sucks your clit in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as his tongue works over your clit.

“Ahhh! Ahhh! Hah-Harry, fuck!” Your head falls back, breaking the eye contact.

He pops off with a loud popping sound. “Eyes on me, baby.”

You pull your head up and meet his eyes.

He smirks. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“Ok,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.” His tongue darts back out to lick up and down your clit, alternating between hard licks and soft licks. Your thighs are quivering, the sensations are so much more intense now that you’re bare. He sucks your clit back in his mouth and you cry out, but you maintain eye contact. You’re panting… you’re so close and then he pulls back. “Noooo…please. I was so close.” You feel like you could cry.

“I know baby,” he says, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. “Wanted to edge ya. Ya really wanna cum now?”

You pause. It’s so good when he edges you, but you can still feel your release bubbling. “It’s up to you. I’m yours.”

He palms his cock. “Jesus…ya killin’ me.” He gets up and lays a fresh towel on the floor and grabs a washcloth. He turns the sink on and sets the water to cold. “Wish I had some ice righ’ now.”

You groan. He dips the washcloth in the cold water and wrings it out over your clit.

“Fuck!”

He leans over you and sucks a nipple into his mouth as his thumb moves rhythmically back and forth over your clit. He soaks the washcloth again and wrings it out over your clit.

Your head falls back, and you moan. “H…oh my god.”

He moves his mouth to your other nipple and then he bites down, just enough to hurt just right.

“Ahhh! Oh godOhgodohgod!”

“Look a’ me.”

You pull your eyes back to his.

He places his hands on your knees and sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s ready to make you cum now. It doesn’t take long for you to get back there. Your mouth opens wide as you feel your orgasm get closer. An almighty groan leaves your mouth as your orgasm barrels through your body and everything goes white.

“Shh, baby, I gotcha…’s ok,” Harry coos against your skin in between kisses to your neck.

You’re slumped on the counter as aftershocks roll through your body causing you to shiver, “’m floating," you whimper wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nah, ‘m just carryin’ ya to bed,” he mutters with a smug smile on his face, “love bein’ able to get you to this place.”

You pull one hand down to trace a swallow on his collarbone, just as he sits on the edge of the bed. “So pretty, H, god, the hours I’ve spent dreaming about this body and now you reduce me to mush.”

He puts one hand on your cheek and smooths your hair behind your ear. “Aww, love, ya were right there the whole time an’ I kept doubtin’ yau wanted ta be wit’ me an’ my crazy life.”

“I love you, H,” you whisper running your thumb along his jaw.

He searches your eyes, “I love you too.” He leans forward to kiss your lips in a series of smacks and a final open mouth kiss sucking on your top lip, you return the favor by sucking on his bottom lip.

“Mmm…I love your kisses,” you say pulling away.

He stands up and turns around to lay you out on the bed. “Hang on,” I have this lotion they gave me that helps protect shaved skin from getting irritated. I’ll grab some.”

You lay out just enjoying the cool air on your skin. You pussy is tingling, not just from the earth-shattering orgasm, but from the air lightly wisping across your sensitive freshly shaved skin. “Mmm…” you moan and grin to yourself feeling sexy and wanton.

Harry return with a small container of lotion. “This stuff’s really good, it dries quickly an’ has no frangrance, so should be safe for ya.” He begins with a tiny drop on his middle finger and working from top to bottom, he rubs tight circles around you mound and pussy lips making sure to get every spot. He blows on it to dry it quickly and you can’t help but squirm your hips. “Feel good?” he says looking up your body.

You nod and moan, “Yes, feels so good. When you blow it’s so tingly.” You pull up your shoulders and perch on your elbows looking down at him. “Harry, I think I wanna get a tattoo,” you say unexpectedly.

He can’t help the chuckle that erupts from his chest, “Well, tha’s kinna random. Why?”

“Well, do you….I mean…you said…,” you say stammering and biting the side of your bottom lip.

“Spit it out, love,” he says chuckling again.

“Well, do you think I have a boring ass body?” you rush out as fast as possible.

This time he literally laughs out loud. “Baby… usin’ my words against me, eh? Jesus, ‘m sittin’ here hard as steel an’ ya ask if ya have a boring body.”

“Don’t tease, I’m asking because I wanna know,” you say pouting out your lips and casting your eyes down.

“No, sweetheart, I absolutely do not think ya have a boring body,” he says seriously. His eyes light up like he has an idea, “But if ya wanna know wha’ ‘s like to have some ink, I can do it.”

“You wanna tattoo me!?” you exclaim shocked.

He throws his head back laughing, “No, but I can ink ya.” He gets up and walks across to his dresser where his wallet and keys are. He grabs a black sharpie marker that he tends to carry with him everywhere for autographs. He holds it up for you to see and starts toward you.

“Harry, I just took a bath!” you start to roll over.

“Stay right there!” he says pointing the marker at you.

You still your movements. “It’ll take forever to come off! Don’t do it where anyone will see!” you squeal on a giggle.

He chuckles. “It’ll come off wi’ baby oil yanno.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you say, kicking yourself for not coming up with a better excuse.

He crawls up on the bed and pushes your legs open, laying down between your legs. “Wha’ tattoo would ya get?”

“I dunno. Something pretty. Maybe a flower or a quote.”

He smiles and kisses your tummy. He uncaps the sharpie and purses his lips. You raise up on your elbows and then he looks up to meet your eyes. “First tattoo. Ya ready?”

You giggle. He positions himself and you sigh. His arm is resting on your mound and you’re still thrumming from earlier. He stretches the skin on your hip like he’s seen his own tattoo artists do and then he starts drawing your flowers. The marker is cool on your skin and every time he moves, it’s erotic.

“Mmmm…” you moan out.

“‘S it feel good?” he says smiling though concentrating on his design.

“Yes. Kinda tickles and your arm is over my pussy. Feels good every time you move,” you whimper softly.

He smirks. “Ya still worked up?”

You nod, licking your lips.

“I have an idea…can I do it?” he looks to you for approval.

“Yes…ok.”

He moves again and then he’s hovering right over your pussy. He’s so close you can feel him breathe. He pulls the skin of your mound taut and then starts drawing. Every stroke of the marker makes you wetter.

He smirks at all your little moans. You don’t even realize you’re making any noise.

You’re gripping the sheets underneath you. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Almost done, baby,” says reassuringly.

“Ok,” you breathe out.

You finally feel him shift and place the cap back on the marker. He places a quick kiss to your clit.

The sensation is shocking, “Ohhh!”

“All done. Ya can look now.” You’re panting but move back to your elbows and look down. You look at the “ink” and then back at him and smile.

He’s drawn an ‘H’ and ‘S’ to match his initial rings and the initials around your neck. “This cunt’s mine.”

You giggle. “Yeah. Yeah it is. All yours.”

He moves up to kiss you and you grip him tightly. “I don’t need a tattoo to be yours but thank you.”

“Ya welcome, princess, It. Was. My. Pleasure.” He says kissing you under your ear.

You turn your head to capture his face. “You make me feel like one, ya know, like a princess,” you say meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “If I lost my slipper would you come find me?”

“Baby, ‘d fuckin’ move heaven an’ earth to find ya, but wouldn’t hafta, ‘cuz think ma heart an’ ma body would jus’ ‘no where ya were,” he says seriously.

“H, that sounds like lyrics…” you say wide-eyed.

“Well I mean it, jus’ know ‘m here and ‘m not goin’ anywhere withou’ ya,” he stays searching your eyes.

You reach up to run your hands through his hair still damp from his shower and he closes his eyes, like you are touching his very soul. “Feel good?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, so good, mmm…” he growls and situates his hand under you, one under your shoulders and another at your lower back. Once he’s got a good grip he rolls over with you on top of him.

You smile down at him and go in to kiss his nose, but he raises his head up to capture your lips with his. He dives into your mouth, kissing you breathless. He’s sucking your lips and licking your tongue, the kiss so sensual. You break away to take a breath and he’s immediately on your throat kissing your pulse point. “Wan’ ya so much, ‘m so hard an’ wanna make love to ya in our bed so bad…can we? Can we make love tonight?”

“Jesus H, what makes you think you have to ask. I want you too, I always want you,” you say breathlessly.

He rolls you back over to the side and pushes up until he’s sat leaning against the headboard, “C’mere.”

You scramble to your knees and straddle his legs sitting back on his thighs. He smooths his hands up to cup and squeeze your breasts. He’s not gentle, it’s not painful, but he’s squeezing them together and his mouth is on your nipples, sucking hard and biting just the way you like. “Ahh…” you moan and throw your head back. He stops to look down at his cock laying against your pussy hiding the “S” he inked down there earlier.

“Christ…,” he remarks at the sight.

You’re too blissed out at his fingers pinching your nipples to even notice what he’s talking about. He reaches down and pulls his cock out of the way so he can see both initials and your little clit poking out swollen in between them. He releases one breast so he can run his thumb down over it. His nails are still painted white with the red hearts on them, and even he thinks that’s fitting.

You lean your head back and he lifts his chin, “Look down,” he says with a smile.

You look down and he moves his hand long enough for you to see the black “H” and “S” inked on your pussy. You feel a rush of arousal coat your channel.

You’re both looking down when he whispers, “’s hot right?”

You nod and reach down one finger to trace the lines.

“Fuck tha’s sexy…” he trails with a raspy moan.

You raise up and say, “Harry, help me put you inside me.”

He holds his cock still and you gently sink down on him with an open mouth and a gasp. This time he gasps as well.

“Harry, I love that little stretch when you first go in, it’s so intense, then feels so good,” you describe still looking down. You raise up and go down again bracing your hands on his shoulders. His eyes are glued to where you’re connected.

“Jesus, fuck, look they’re stretched ‘round my cock,” he mutters.

You look down and rise and fall and watch the “H” and “S” move and undulate as you fuck yourself on him. “Oh, my, god, Harry, that’s…it’s just…”

“Sexy,” you say.

“Sexy,” he says at the same time.

You look at his face, smile and he smiles back.

You grind down against him instead of pulling back and he groans at the way his initials move. You grip his shoulders tighter and start moving back and forth on his dick slowly. He’s watching intently. He pulls his knees up to support your back and meets your eyes. You press your lips to his. “Watch. I want you to watch your cunt as I fuck you.”

He groans and presses his lips to yours again. “You are amazin’, know tha’?”

You smile as his eyes slide back to where you’re connected. You’re focused on the way he feels. Everything is more sensitive now that you’re bare. You can feel EVERYTHING. Every time you meet his hips, it stimulates your clit and your grip on his shoulders tightens. “Mmmm…you feel so good.”

“S’good. Jesus, this is…s’good. Fuck…” He says, as he stills your hips.

You whine.

“I know, baby. I know. Wanna make it s’good for ya. First time in our bed, innit?”

You nod and smile. “Yes.”

“Kiss me?” he requests.

You don’t respond, you simply press your lips to his. You can never get enough of his kisses and there’s something so erotic about kissing him while he’s inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck as his tongue finds yours and then you’re both lost in the pure joy of kissing.

You break apart, breathless and he kisses you again quickly. “Ya ready?”

“Mmmm…” You move up and back down and gasp. You’re even more worked up now.

His mouth pulls back in a grimace. “Jesus…holy fuck.”

When your hand moves from his shoulder and down to your mound, pulling and tracing over his initials, he groans. “Fuck! Look a’ tha’!”

He grabs your hips and stills you. “One (pant) more (pant) time (pant).”

“Jesus H!” you cry out.

He grabs his phone. “Gotta take a pic. I…shit…need ta…” he trails off as he opens the camera. He just has the bottom of your tits and the H and S on your pussy in the pic. Click. He kisses you again, hands sliding up to your tits and pinching your nipples. “Make me cum…make us cum.”

You cry out as you start to move up and down again. You grab his hand and place his fingers on your clit. “I can feel every fucking thing,” you pant out. You guide his fingers over your clit. “This is yours. All yours. Always has been.” You’re so close. “Always will be!” You cry out as you cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’ stop! Fuck, don’ stop!” His hands fly to your hips and guide you, rocking you against him harder. The way you’re squeezing him and the way his initials are moving on your skin is too much and he’s gone, hips thrusting up, head thrown back, veins taut on his neck, curse words leaving his mouth. You fall forward and crash into his neck, both of you breathing hard. “Can feel ya still shakin’, baby ya Ok?” he asks kissing your shoulder in between huffing breaths.

“I’m good, you?” you respond resting your cheek on his shoulder. You pull your head up and turn to kiss under his ear then whisper, “Can feel you still inside me, it’s…Hahh…it’s…,” you involuntarily clench down on him even as he softens. “Harry…I…,” you whimper feeling heat from your ears down your neck.

He leans his shoulder forward in an effort to get your eyes, “Baby?” he says. Then he catches your eyes, glassy, lips wet from licking them. “Oh, love,” he coos rubbing your back, “‘s ok, don’ stop…ya need to cum again, don’ ya?”

You bury your head back down in his neck and nod, “’m so close still, ‘s not stopping…so sensitive” you say breathing hot air into his neck trying to control the feeling.

“Rock ya hips, don’ hold it back,” he says then stops and places his hand on your neck to hold you close to his body, head still buried in his shoulder. Your hair is everywhere, it puffs out of his face on a deep exhale. One hand is low on your bum and helping you along as your rock back and forth his pelvic bone hitting your clit on every pass.

You’re breathing and gasping with your lips on his neck. “I love you, Harry, I love you so much. Feels so good.”

“I love ya so much, love makin’ love ta ya…love makin’ ya cum,” he says pulling your head out to smooth your hair away from your face. He touches his forehead to yours, “Don’ stop movin’,” he says slanting his mouth and kissing you passionately. Your hands grip his biceps and he breaks away lips still touching yours as he speaks softly, “you gon’ cum fo’ me, can see it in ya eyes, come on, babe...,” he ducks his head slightly and pushes yours back up forehead to forehead, “Look at me when ya cum, yeah, like tha’.”

You speed up and then your mouth drops open, between his stare that never waivers and your sensitivity…the orgasm feels like the sweetest relief.

“There’s my love, there she is…I love you…only you…please, don’ stop…keep lookin’ at me,” he encourages, “cum so pretty fo’ me.”

“Har-r-r-ry, love you… love you…” you dig your fingers in his biceps your nails leaving crescent marks from the pressure. You dive in to kiss him speaking between kisses, “What are you doin’ to me? You’ve turned me inside out and I can feel it…I can feel it…your love, our love in this world, in this bed…thank you for letting me be me.”

“Feel it too, babe, ‘s good…’s free… thanks fo’ bein’ here wi’ me. Gonna make mo’ moments like this, lots mo’ moments…a lifetime of ‘em because love ya,” he says with furrowed brows and searching eyes. And you know he means it.

You lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his shoulder, he follows and kisses the shoulder you have exposed to him. After several kisses he lays his head back on the headboard and you lay yours on his chest. He grabs your hand and brings it up to kiss each knuckle, then places it on his chest and holding it there.

After a long period of gentle kisses and tender words Harry mutters, “Mmm, baby, think we can jus’ stay here like this the rest of the day?”

“I wish, babe, but you have something scheduled for tonight,” you remind him with a pouty lip.

Then your eyes go wide, and you start twisting around looking all around you on the bed. “Where is it!?” you say emphatically.

“What, love?” he says with a scrunched face.

“Your phone!” you say rolling your eyes.

“’S right ‘ere,” he says producing the phone from under his thigh.

Grabbing for it, “Gimme it!” you say.

“Ok! Ok! What’s goin’ on?” he says with a chuckle and a huff.

“That picture, I wanna see it!” you say looking at him like he has grown two heads.

“OHHHH!!, Yeah, me too!” he says grabbing the phone back to scroll to the folder of photos.

You turn around in his lap and sit back to his front and he pulls his phone around to where you can both see it.

Chin resting on your shoulder he begins flipping through until suddenly the photo appears.

“Damn babe!” he exclaims an octave lower than his already deep voice.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth. “Holy shit, Harry,” you mumble through your fingers.

“’S hot, so fuckin’ hot,” he whispers into your ear.

You must admit it’s pretty sexy, there the bottom of your boobs, your tummy and his initials stretched around his barely visible cock. You swipe to see if he took more than one, thankful it was only one. However, when you swipe back to it, you notice the picture move. “Wait!” you say grabbing the phone back, “Harry this is a live shot, when you hold down on the photo it captures a few seconds before and after the photo!” you whisper-shout with eyes as wide as saucers. Although you’re holding the phone, he cups your hand and presses his thumb on the top and, true to word, the photo shows your tummy quivering and heaving with breath and arousal.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” he states gently pulling the phone out of your hands. He then proceeds to press down on the photo over and over. You can hear the smirk in his voice, “God, I love this…”

“Harry, you better put that somewhere safe, my god!” you breath into your hands peeking though your fingers as he plays it over and over again.

“Oh, trust me, ‘s gon’ be in a safe place wi’ me ev’rywhere I go…” he’s remarks kissing your ear. “You on film…mmmm…wha’ d’ya think ‘bout tha’? Would ya ever let me film ya?”

#tattoo and a shave #original content #harry smut #harry styles smut

[lyn-js]

One Step at a Time | Prologue

Calvin Evans x OC Reader

Summary: Everything in Ava Mason's life was what you call normal. She has a steady job as a lab tech at Hastings, has a beautiful bungalow in Sugar Hill, and sometimes babysits her friend Harriet's kids. But that all changes when social services show up at her doorstep with, her 2-year-old niece Delilah. Ever since then, it has been keeping you from your job, going to work late, and leaving when everyone else has gone home. But a certain chemist wants to know why a lab tech is staying late.

Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family, mentions of adoptions & being put into foster care, and a whole lotta fluff.

(This story is kind of based on what actually happened in Lessons in Chemistry. But no dying. We need to keep one of Lewis's characters alive.)

I also do not own any characters in Lessons in Chemistry except for my character Ava Mason.

Walking up to the sounds of little feet padding into your room, you couldn’t ever want to trade that sound in for the world. Fluttering your eyes open, you can see the little girl waddling her way to your bead, for how far her feet can take her. You can also see her hair sprawled out in different directions, and a dopy smile on her face, happy to see you. You focus your attention on your niece your big golden doodle Poppy to come to trodding next to Delilah to help her stand. 

“Mornin’ Aunty Ava,” she says with a cheeky grin on her face, while also trying to hide it from you. “Good morning Bunny,” you say to her. Then, the next second you lift her onto the bed, smothering her face in little kisses while she erupts into a fit of giggle. You had to stop your kisses when Poppy jumped onto the bed and sandwiches between you and Delilah. “Poppy missin’ the kisses too Aunty,” she says while still giggling. After the laughter died down, you over at the clock that was on your nightstand. Having to move some homemade drawings that Delilah made you the other day. You read that it’s 9:30. You’re Late.

Oh Shit.

You pick up Delilah and rush out of the bed, try and get her and yourself dressed, teeth brushed, and out the door. You are getting her buckled in the car and on your way to Harriet's house. When you both arrive, you see a man across the street stretching, maybe he was getting ready for a run. But after he’s done stretching you both stare at one another. It felt like you both were stuck in time like the whole world stopped spinning, and the attention was just on you and him. “Hey Ava!” you snap out of your daze and hear Harriet walking down her porch to greet you and Delilah. You wanted to see if the mysterious tall man was still there, but when you turned back around. He was gone. “Hey… Har’. I was wondering if it’s no trouble if you can watch Del again tonight. The amino’s lab is busting my butt. I need to get some more work finished-” “Hey, It’s okay. I’m happy to watch the little bun again. Plus, we're gonna have so much fun, whaddya think Del?” Hariient asks. Delilah just jumps up and down, “YAY! Hab so much fun Aunty!” you both laugh at her squealing excitement. You kneel down to Delilah’s height and kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you later Bunny. Be good for Harriet okay?” “Otay, Bye, Bye Aunty Ava!” She says waving while being carried up the porch. You give her one more wave until she and Harriet disappear into the house. You let out an exhale, start up your car again, and put it in drive.

Off to Hastings, it is.

Most of your day was spent in the lab cleaning up beakers that were once of a failed experiment, secretly correcting the mistakes some newbies made while writing their problems, and making them coffee. They can go down to the cafeteria and grab a cup, but all of the chemists butter you up with compliments “They don’t make it as you do,” or “At least you know how to make a good cup of joe than the other ladies on the staff.” You wanted to feel insulted, you wanted to speak up and say something. But you knew they would run off to Donatti and there was a high chance, you could get fired. So just keep your head down, mouth shut and be the disty lab tech. Who apparently makes good coffee?

When walking back from lunch you were walking past the secretaries room. Suddenly you hear your name being called. “Miss. Mason…Ava?” you turn around and see the head of the secretaries department, Fran Frask. “Good morning Miss. Frask,” you say to her with a tight-lipped smile and continue walking down to the lab. You knew she was going to bug you again about the pageant. But time and time again you tell her you can’t participate because you have plans that night, meaning you are having a movie night with your niece. That was the only night you could get off on time, and have some time with Deliaha. 

“I hope you can still sign up for the Little Miss Hastings pageant, you know your lab is in between secretaries and you fella could use a boost for the event.” She asks “I’m sorry, but I'm not a secretary,” I say to her being a little offended because she knew for a fact that I was a lab tech. A very good one to be at that. “Well… Ya know lab techs can participate too, it’s any female support staff.” “Thank you, Fran but pageants aren’t my idea of fun,” I say to her while grabbing lab coats and passing them out on each table. “Well, what do you consider fun Ava?” she says with a little enthusiasm in her voice. “I-I like to cook and bake.” “Well ya know, let me know if you change your mind.” “I won't but thank you. Now if you don’t mind I have a lot to clean up before the chemists arrive.” You give her a small wave and a smile so she can hopefully get the hint to leave.

She gives me another little cheeky grin and points her red-colored nails at me. “I’ll put you down as a maybe.” then walking away. Why can’t your life get any easier?

Walking around the lab once again you hear men wanting more coffee, and helping out some others who need help with their equations for the expedients. When coming around to the station where you set up your coffee, you see someone who was a part of the lab walk in with a magazine, and on the front was a man holding up test tubes and seeing what was inside. He looks so familiar, but I don’t know where I have seen him before. You think to yourself, but you snap out of your thoughts and finish making the coffee. But you keep getting distracted when all of the men keep talking about the infamous Calvin Evans. “What does he have that we don’t,” one of them said out loud. Also saying he was up for a Nobel prize, “Doesn’t give him the right to take all of our supplies. I mean how much ribose does one guy need?” 

Maybe this could work, maybe if you can get back some of that ribose you can finally be seen by the lab. Not seen as some female ditsy lab tech. You can finally matter in the world.

It was now after hours and you were over at the sink cleaning up some test tubes and beakers when you heard your name being called out. It was the head of the Aminos lab, Dr. Price. Just telling me to not stay later because he would get in trouble with Donatti. You just nod your head and oblige to his rules, but not listening. After everyone leaves you sneak your way out of the lab to avoid being seen by the janitorial staff and make your way over to Mr. Evans's lab.

When you reach his lab you see on his door there are cardboard signs saying “Keep out” and “Do Not Linger” but I know for a fact that I’m not keeping out, and I’m lingering. So screw your signs. You go back to sneaking in, so you take one of your bobby pins from your hair and unlock the door. Once open you can get a full view of what the infamous chemist does in here. You see records scattered all over the tables, so many loose-leaf pieces of paper with different equations and answers on them. And his lab coat hanging over a lounge chair in the corner. But you start to look around for the back room so you can find what you're looking for.

You pick another lock to the other door, you scan the shelves to find the little tiny bottles. When you finally come across the ribose, the shelves were covered from front to back with so many bottles. How many bottles does this guy need? You think to yourself. You grab a couple of bottles, lock up the doors, and seak your way back over to your lab, finish up your work, and finally head home to see your baby bunny and finally get some sleep. But what you didn’t know was when you were “sneaking” back to the lab, the best of the best secretaries Fran Frask watched you go back into the lab while she was locking up her room for the night.

Once again you wake up late, and trying fast as possible to get ready. You arrived super late around 9:00 but of course, there was traffic, and show up at almost 11. You rush up to the lab so you can get started on handing out the rest of the equipment. But you were stopped by Fran again to tell you Donatti needed you in his office. He sums up the meeting by saying that you weren’t supposed to be staying late, and if it happened again you would be let go from Amino’s lab and Hasingscompletely. Not only that but he was forcing you to compete in the pageant. You try your best to argue why you can’t participate, but of course, he threatens to fire you.  That sets you back a little bit more when Fran confers you to take a picture and be put it on the bulletin board for the pageant. Can this day get any worse than it already is?

You finally make it up to the lab. But, you stop suddenly when you see a man sitting on the table holding a miniature bottle of what you assumed was ribose.

 Oh No.

“Ah, there she is. The thief,” the man says in a mocking tone. I just looked at him like I didn’t know anything. “I beg your pardon?” you ask back. He hops down from the table and starts pacing back and forth. It looked like his head was about to explode. “I have been through every department, and interrogated multiple chemists. Including ones from this very lab,” he twirls his pointer finger around and then points to me. “Who say that you,  Miss. Mason have a history of ruffling feathers. And also have an arrogant attitude of self-importance.” “Have you heard yourself speak Mr. Evans?” I say with raised eyebrows. “Oh, s-so you don’t deny it? I-I mean what would a secretary have anything to do with ribose, aside from selling it on the black market.” 

I just look at him dumbfounded, almost looking like this crazy man has 3 heads. “I am a chemist Mr. Evans, not a secretary!” I said back to him but he was almost out the front door. “Oh, and a fibber, now aren’t we?” I drop my jaw when he walks out the door. “Oh, yes. Because there is such a high demand on the black market for monosaccharide!” “This is very disappointing! Very–- I’m disappointed Miss. Mason.” he turned the corner, and then he disappeared.

(Calvins’s POV)

You were pacing back and forth in front of Fran Frask’s desk, deciding what I should do about this unbelievable situation. 

“One: My lab was unlocked last night, so I want someone to speak to janitorial and have new locks placed on the door.” I see Fran write down on her paper and nodding her head. “Two: I have calculated the cost of the missing ribose, and I want to make it clear, that will not be coming out of my budget. Three: I want the floors sterilized. At least one person entered without my authorization. And with my allergies, I cannot risk any contaminants. You understand?” You look back at her to make sure she has every little detail down to a tea. She just nods “ Yes. I’ll take care of it, Dr. Evans.” Writing the rest down.

“And lastly, I would like the secretary held accountable.” You look up to see Fran have a little smile on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her fired.”

I furrow my eyebrows a little bit, “Well… just a formal reprimand will suffice.” I see her giving the same look back at me. “I’m shocked that it was on my face. “Dr. Evans I’m shocked that it was one of my secretaries, honestly. Um, you said it was in the Aminos lab? Because that’s Mary Ann Rogers.” She tells me the woman’s name. It’s not her. “No, no, no. Her name is Ava Mason.” She looks back up at me. “Oh, she not a secretary. She’s a lab tech. Puls she should know better, she has her masters.” she looks back down scrambling around, looking for some important papers. “Her masters? In what?” “Chemistry.” Now I look a little dumbfounded at what Fran just told me. Then she asks about the “Little Miss Hastings” pageant, asking if I will be attending. I just simply ignored her and just walk out the door back up to my lab. But, I stop in my tracks to look at the bulletin board to see the contestant for the pageant. As I look in the lower corner I see the picture of the one and only Ava Mason. For some reason, she looks so frightened. Not wanting her picture to be taken, but giving a half-smile just trying to look nice.

You just simply walk away from the board and continue your journey back to your lab. Why would she want to steal some stupid ribose, and why would she be staying late? You need to get to the bottom of this, and fast.

End.

To all of you reading this, I hope you enjoy this story. I've said this many times with other stories, but I do have big plans for these 2 characters. So, stay tuned for what's about to happen.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Also, If I forgot anyone on the taglist message me. I will add you.

Taglist: @petersunderoos96 @mrspedropascal5683 @callsign-magnolia

dividers are by @saradika

#lewis pullman #calvin evans #lessons in chemistry #masterlist #calvin evans x reader #lessons in chemistry masterlist