#if you get the reference of where the first ones are from

[crvptidgf]

Don’t Tell Your Brother

Rafe Cameron x Reader

➸ summary: you’re sick of keeping your relationship a secret, but rafe isn’t so sure about outing it yet

➸ warnings/notes: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, reader is fem

word count: 1.3k

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IF THERE WAS one thing Rafe was good at it was keeping secrets. Whether it be for his father, Barry - or even sometimes Wheezie. He was a master at it, which is probably why he found this arrangement so easy.

It wasn’t that he liked keeping you hidden. It was more that it was necessary. Your brother wouldn’t take too kindly to the kook prince “corrupting” his only sister. Plus, a part of him kind of loved sneaking around and having you all to himself (something he would never openly admit to).

Rafe listened to your heavy breathing as he brushed his fingertips across your shoulder blade. Before he met you he would’ve never been caught dead cuddling with anyone; but that was what he liked about you. You pushed his boundaries (within reason) and forced him to see new perspectives. To become better.

Lifting your flushed face to meet his, you decided to break the silence. “Rafe?”

He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to your expectant eyes. He could never get enough of how you looked in bed with him, your hair wild and your eyes glazed over as your spent body curled into his. You were breathtaking.

“Hm?” he responded.

“Will it always be like this?”

Rafe took in your glistening skin and furrowed brows. If you hadn’t been asking him a question he probably would’ve occupied his mind with counting every mark and blemish on your face instead of listening.

“Like what?” he finally asked. He already knew where this was going. Sometimes he just liked to prolong the inevitable by acting clueless - because occasionally you would give up and switch the conversation to something more lighthearted.

“Rafe,” you groaned. “I mean all this pretending we’re doing. I hate acting like I hate you in front of John B.”

Your boyfriend sighed, dejection taking over his once calm features. When you first met him you never ever thought you could be the source of his peace, much less the one to turn him into a ball of domestic mush.

“Baby,” he started to say.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. You’re not getting out of this one so fast,” you quickly interrupted, already knowing his tricks to try and distract you.

Rafe merely rolled his eyes as his hand lowered to squeeze your waist. “Okay, okay.”

Another sigh.

“What are you in such a rush for, anyway?” he asked, his ringed digits coming to rub at the buzzed hair on his scalp. “You were the one who wanted us to keep this from them.”

You rested your head in your palm now, elbow digging into Rafe’s impossibly soft mattress. He had offered to buy you one for your room after you complained about how much comfier his bed was - but ultimately you had to refuse. There would be too many lingering questions about how you could afford such a luxury.

Truthfully that was one of the hardest things Rafe had to grapple with. He couldn’t spoil you like he wanted to without causing alarm bells to sound in all of the pogue’s minds.

“I know. And you were the one who was against it. Why’re you so adamant on the secrecy now?”

A small glint sparkled in his eye.

“You don’t think it’s hot?”

It was your turn to sigh and roll your eyes. This man always found a way to make things dirty, even when the situation was far from it. “Are you really this horny after all that?” you asked, referring to the several exhaustive minutes you guys just spent in too many positions to count.

“What?” he queried, feigning innocence. “You don’t think all the fake hate act is hot? I like seeing you get all riled up knowing that I’m still the only one who gets to take you home that night.”

Goddamnit he was good at distracting you.

“Rafe,” you all but whined as you dropped your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m serious.”

Hands caressed the back of your head, petting your unruly hair down. “So am I.”

Your hand rested on his naked chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. There was something so relaxing and homely about this. Both of you entangled in each other under Rafe’s sheets, your hands roaming over every body part you could reach, your breaths harmonizing into one. If only this was a common occurrence - not just in the confines of his bedroom at 1 in the morning.

“You’re thinking again,” stated the man bluntly. “Don’t.”

“I should get back soon.”

Sitting up you began to look around the room, attempting to find any of your discarded items and clothes. If you left now you could still get some sleep before everybody back at home woke up.

“C’mon don’t be like that,” Rafe said as he grabbed your wrist.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Be like what? If you want this charade to keep going I have to get home.”

“Just tell them you were with-“

“With who, Rafe? Who can I force to lie for me this time?”

You knew it was unfair to get mad at him, but you just wanted to be able to stay at your boyfriend’s house without stress for once. This was getting tiring and you didn’t understand how Rafe couldn’t see it.

Pulling your underwear up your legs you moved to stand up. “I know it was my idea in the first place - but I didn’t think we’d keep it going for so long.”

Your boyfriend only watched as you paced around, grabbing your bra and t-shirt off the floor. “And anyway it’s none of anyone’s business who I date. I don’t know why I cared to start with,” you mumbled.

He knew you were frustrated. Sometimes he felt that way too, but seeing how many things you and your brother had to worry about back at the Chateau, he didn’t wanna add to it by exposing your ongoing relationship so soon.

“Hey listen,” he said, trying to gain your attention.

When you didn’t so much as spare a glance at him, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance. So stubborn.

“Babe, listen. C’mere.”

Still nothing.

Standing up from the bed, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder. It was a shockingly common occurrence. You would ignore him during an argument or disagreement and he would get sick of it and carry you to bed where he’d force you to talk it out. He insisted that he hated when you ‘sulked’.

“Rafe! Put me down!”

You landed on the bed with a bounce, your shirt half on your body and your bra still clutched in your hand. Rafe grabbed it and threw it off the bed.

His hands were at either side of your head. In any other situation you’d have started jumping his bones. These thoughts left your mind as Rafe’s next words left his mouth.

“We can tell them - if you promise to let me help you with the rent this month.”

Of course he would have some sort of stupid bargain for this agreement.

“No I can’t ask you to-“

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

He could tell you were thinking about it, weighing your options. If he could pay for this, maybe John B wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass when the eventual news came out. Perhaps he’d see how serious Rafe was about you.

Well, also, he just liked to spoil you.

You groaned. “Fine.”

With a kiss on the lips, the deal was sealed. “But only for that month, right?” you asked in between the final kiss.

Rafe nodded, letting you believe you were in control of this. What he didn’t clue you in on, however, is that he fully planned for you to move in with him after your next due date was paid. He figured he could let the surprise wait.

“Yes. But for now lemme just have you to myself,” he muttered against your collarbone.

Maybe getting home could wait for now.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron obx #obx x reader

[trashart00]

Less than 12 hours until the release of “The Tortured Poets Department”!

Hence, I present to you, “The Tortured Catboy Department”

Track List:

SIDE A: Deux Semaines (feat Ladybug) / The Tortured Catboy Department / My Lady Abandons Only Her Favourite Partners / Down Bad

SIDE B: So Long, London / But Daddy I Love Her / Fresh Out the Slammer / Akuma !!! (feat Monarch)

SIDE C: Guilty As Sin? / Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me / Even Ladybug Can’t Fix This / loml

SIDE D: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart / The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived / The Cataclysm / Adrien Agreste

Bonus Tracks: The Black Cat / Solitude / Doppelgänger / Tell-Tail Heart

(Love how so many of the original track names still work)

My takes of what each song is about/inspired by under cut (but, if you feel like it, tell me yours :D)

I’m picturing all of these to be from Adrien’s perspective so they reflect mostly his version of the situations rather than the objective reality (especially the Laybug centered ones)

Deux Semaines (feat Ladybug): This one would focus on the sequence in Multiplication where Monarch doesn’t attack and how LadyNoir’s relationship recovers from the events of Season 4.

TTCD: Kept the “Catboy” singular because while there are multiple Catboy identities, there is only one boy underneath them all. Hence while I think it would be about him just stating his issues with everything, it would also focus on loneliness and how his department is understaffed :(

MLAOHFP: All of the Season 4 LadyNoir separation arc angst, with the “Favourite” being a callback to Risk (and kinda a jab at Rena because he thinks that she’s really her favourite, but y’ know, she didn’t abandon her so Rena can’t be her actual favourite)

Down Bad: Mainly about how Chat’s love for LB makes him excuse her behaviors, but also makes him act out (maybe a reference to Elation).

SL,L: About the whole arc of Gabriel sending Adrien to London and all of the memories he would have surrounding this ordeal - key point, not “So Long, Paris” because he didn’t want to leave, and in the end he comes back to a changed world.

BDILH: This one’s either about the Chat Blanc breakup or Gabriel’s dislike of Marinette in Season 5 (or both, with maybe a line about how he feels like this has happened before)

FOTS: Adrien realizing his father is a Bad Person.

Akuma !!! (feat Monarch): This one would be like a song about his daily life and then the chorus would start with a shout of “Akuma!!!” and it would switch to him as Chat Noir. I feel like it would start out with normal life being boring/hero life being fun but as it goes on he grows exhausted. Monarch has a rap verse.

Guilty As Sin?: Chat Blanc centeric - would ask who is to blame for the destruction of the world, like is it Chat because he lost control or Hawkmoth because he took advantage of his son’s emotion?

WAoLOM: Chat Blanc centric at first (like a villain song) but ends with Adrien reflecting on the events of Evolution-Destruction-Multiplication-PS night

ELCFT: I think it would be about his relaction ship with his father and how he wishes there was something he could do to go back to how they were when Emilie was alive but there’s no easy fix and his father keeps on getting worse and worse after any attempt.

loml: A song for Marinette with a bittersweet air - she’s the love of his life but he can’t tell her everything, and she can’t tell him everything either

ICDIWaBH: CatWalker centric - him going back to Ladybug in Kuroneko.

TSMWEL: I actually have three for this one - 1. About Gabriel and his need to domineer because he feels small and powerless. 2. About Adrien feeling small and insignificant. 3.About Plagg because he’s a smol boi (it would be like a lighthearted, cheeky song, like when you sing to your pet about how adorable they are)

The Cataclysm: Literally about how he cataclysmed Monarch, but also about how the event impacted his perception of self.

Adrien Agreste: Ending the album with a song that’s his own name :o.

Now for the variants:

The Black Cat: This one has Chat on the cover and the song is mostly about his bad luck. ‘I Love You It’s Ruining My Life” works both directed at Ladybug and his father.

Solitude: With Chat Blanc on the cover, this one’s about his mother. I think the “You Don’t Get To Tell Me About Sad” is pretty self-explanatory.

Doppelgänger: CatWalker is on this one, his song would be about how he may literally be the same person but he doesn’t fully feel like himself. He had to repress a lot of himself to be CatWalker hence I thought “Am I Allowed To Cry?” fit him really well (especially with Plagg not giving him the time to fully recover before he had to jump back in). Please note the crossed out name (unlike Chat Blanc) because he’s reinventing himself.

Tell-Tail Heart: This one has Ladybug on the cover - wait she’s not a Catboy?? The song is titled “Tell-Tail Heart” as a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s “Tell Tale Heart” and would explore Chat’s perspective of Ladybug’s guilt for keeping secrets, how any excuse she makes is ultimately unimportant because she would do it either way. The fact that this is the only song title with a pun references how Chat tries to lighten the mood and avoid serious conversations, and the “Tail” is supposed to refer to Rena Rouge. The flowers she’s holding are meant to be foxgloves which symbolise secrets and insincerity (they’re also poisonous and damage the heart :)). I also really liked the “Old Habits Die Screaming” for her as it could mean both Chat Noir’s love for her being an old habit that he cannot get rid of, but also her habit of keeping things from him (especially with how she does it again at the end of season 5) being something she can’t stop. It is also him being able to see that, despite what she tells him, her “Heart” is tells him otherwise.

(also would like to point out that he wouldn’t mention Rena by name, he’s upset, not evil)

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml season 5 #adrien agreste #chat noir #chat blanc #cat walker #patte de velours #ml ladybug #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #ts ttpd #ml fanart #ok so at first I wanted to do these with maribug but then I started trying to come up with alternative names and it dawned on me #she’s still on the last cover though <3 #the tortured Catboy department #inspiration hit me like a truck like I can almost hear the songs

[greenfiend]

The Significance of Lover’s Lake and Byler (Theory) Part 2

Sequel to this post

(Warning: mentions of sex and drugs)

Okay so first of all, if you haven’t seen my previous post on my theory involving Lovers Lake and Byler, please read it first. I go over my theory and predictions for Byler and the heart shaped lake. This is a secondary post to it, outlining some VERY interesting details involving the owner of the lakeside house, the lakeside house itself, and all the romantic and sexual elements present. I’m saving the best for last here.

Let’s start with the owner of the lakeside house.

Reefer Rick

So I recently made a silly post arguing that the most queer coded character in Stranger Things is not Mike nor Will (nor Robin, Henry, Eddie etc), and I stand by this statement. The most queer coded character is: Reefer Rick. Now, I know we never see the guy, but literally all the information we have on him is either queer coding or drug references.

Synonyms of his name are literally f*g Dick, with a shared last name with the famous tea company founder who so happens to have been a homosexual: Lipton.

We know he doesn’t have a family, thus he’s a single man who occasionally has his buddy/fellow dealer Eddie stay over. Hm, not very heterosexual of him.

Then we have his movie list.

Now, as many of us know, the movie “Fast Times” is used within Stranger Things as a way to gage if someone is attracted to women or not. We have Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Vickie all confirmed to have enjoyed this movie… specifically for that shot at 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Sure, Reefer Rick rented the film, but why is it the only movie he rented that was returned on time? For context, he’s the only character who had films listed as “late” returns. So, he obviously enjoyed Cheech & Chong a lot more. Two guys doing drugs is more interesting to him than a sexy lady. Okay, noted.

Now, how is he perceived by the people of Hawkins?

Oooof. Okay. He’s not well liked it seems. He apparently is causing some fear and anger amongst the Hawkins residents. Kind of similar of a reaction these people would have towards an openly gay man during the 1980s.

Also I have to include @/conflictofthemind ‘s excellent point that injectable drug use and unprotected sex (specifically between two men) were both commonly associated with HIV/AIDS… a major epidemic during the 80s and a major subtextual theme within the show.

Now, where’s this guy live while outside of jail?

I don’t blame the guy for “hiding” when the town is not too fond of him. Of course he is a drug dealer so there’s that as well. But interesting they used the word “hide”, which has been associated with queerness within the show already (plus this line was said by Robin (featured in the middle of the shot!!!) who is queer herself).

(Both of these screenshots are from 1x02 interestingly enough.)

Wouldn’t it make sense for these two “hiders” to hide out in “a perfect place to hide” together? Seeking refuge in a fellow gay man’s secluded house?

I will say it’s also worth noting that he does not have any women featured on the walls within his house. Also, he has a phallic shaped bong (we’ll get back to that soon).

Phew okay so that’s Reefer Rick. Are you still with me? Hopefully I didn’t bore any of you with this. I promise you this all leads back to Byler.

So, moving on to his house.

So as @/therainscene kindly pointed out, this poster with the smiley face can be related to rave culture and ecstasy in the 1980s. So a drug reference, in a drug dealer’s house… shocker I know. But I gotta say, ecstasy is also a term often related to sex. I also have to add this little tidbit from one of our favourite directors of Stranger Things, Shawn Levy. Keep in mind, he knows what’ll happen in the next season… and he’s directing episodes after 3 and 4…

Interesting word choice, no?

So, back to the symbolism within (and near) the house.

Let’s talk about the phallic symbolism that appears in pairs in these shots. It’s a choice, isn’t it? With two males in each shot. We know the Duffers love details and foreshadowing… I doubt it’s a coincidence. Also, anyone else notice that phone in the background? Just had to mention it, since our boys are frequently associated with phones and calls.

Then, of course, I gotta bring back this shot.

The bed. Blue meets yellow. You know it! We all heard it a thousand times by now. Let’s look at what else is in the shot. A closed closet. Another reference to our boys. To the right, you’ll see a toilet paper roll. Now, if you have a brother, you might see the same thing in his room. Sure it can be used as a tissue for your nose but let’s just say there’s usually another use for it. I’ll call it “self love”. So, basically, another sexual reference.

To sum up this house: lake/water, drugs, and ecstasy/smiley face. Now, let’s go back to a scene featuring our boys with all these elements in the background.

Makes you wonder doesn’t it?

I must also point out the “Paris” poster in the background. City of love, anyone? Plus the fireworks. They’re really trying to tell us something here.

Also, @/foodiewithdahoodie pointed out how Paris specifically was one of the first places to decriminalize sodomy.

You know, I also wouldn’t rule out every aspect of Murray’s prediction here.

Shout out to the Hylers out there!

Perhaps after a lot of stressful days of fighting interdimentional demons, these boys want to wind down and de-stress in their hiding spot. I can see Reefer Rick as a fellow Nintendo player, leaving his console behind, as well as his weed, for our boys to use. I also wouldn't be surprised if Eddie left a few of his beers behind. I mean… Murray has a pretty good track record for predictions. This would also really double down on the message that Mike and Will “aren’t kids anymore.”

Also, wouldn’t it be fun to look back at Murray’s predictions and realize that they’ve all come to be?

Okay, now let’s finally get to the romance elements!

First thing I want to start with is this shot:

So… they had to show us a mailbox, didn’t they? With that name “Lipton” which as I mentioned in my previous post… is associated with Thomas Lipton who had a lover named William Love.

1 point for #lettergate

And…

“Hope Our Love Lives/Lasts And Never Dies”

WWII solders used the acronym H.O.L.L.A.N.D. to convey a love message in a letter. The whole love letters association with Mike and Will never end, do they?

2 points for #lettergate!

As for the “2121”, I think it’s possible that it’s referencing multiple things… number references are tricky like that in my opinion. But I will say that @/thestrangestthing89 brought up the fact that “2121” could be a reference to “Twin Flames” which is yet another reference to romance.

Continuing on with the romance…

Let’s return back to the scene where Reefer Rick is first mentioned. After Max mentioned him, we are cut to Steve talking about a movie.

A movie filled with action and romance, you say?

So… Doctor Zhivago.

Basically a tale of two people in love during a difficult time (Russian Revolution) being separated, with other people, then finally reunited. Not completely unlike our boys. Notice how the “adult” sign is noticeable in the background. Not kids anymore.

He mentions action, which I’m sure there will be some of as well at the famous lake.

Okay enough with the silly details, let’s stop and look at the bigger picture.

Our beloved lake. Look how gorgeous it truly is. Plus the fact that it’s a literal heart? You can’t get more “on the nose” than that.

Now, who else is known as a heart? (Tough question I know…)

This boy is, without a doubt, narratively tied to the lake. He is “the heart”… he is THE LAKE (symbolically).

Thank you to @/everaster for bringing attention to the fact that after Mike was pushed to deliver that monologue to El by Will, Max “died”, then the gates opened WIDE. One of those gates, as we know, is located within Lover’s Lake… known was “watergate” (term coined by Dustin).

So, as of now in this story… Lover’s Lake is literally broken in two. A broken heart in need of mending.

Who better to accomplish that task than the boy who has known him for a decade and loves him completely and selflessly?

💌📬❤️‍🩹

Hope you enjoyed these posts as much as I enjoyed making them! It’s honestly so much fun looking for evidence and finding such interesting stuff. Some of it may be reaching, and that’s okay because it’s all in good fun! That’s what fandoms are all about.

The level of attention to detail in this show never ceases to amaze me! There’s so much depth and clues to look for and play around with. I hope to have sparked some inspiration and creativity for some people! 💛💙💚

As always, would love to know your thoughts!

#Byler #loverslakegate #lovers lake #stranger things #stranger things 5 #Mike wheeler #Will Byers #byler theory

[princessbrunette]

thinking about calling pogue!rafe over because your hot water isn’t working and he’s acting all annoyed but he’s lowkey kicking his feet at the fact that he gets to be in your home. maybe even asking him to stay after your shower so you can cook him something as a reward and play house for a bit 🩷🩷🩷

ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡

my favourite thing about pogue!rafe is that he acts soooo inconvenienced by your presence. he hates kooks, think they’re so stuck up — so he can’t help but feel to push you away. always referring to you as a ‘stuck up little girl’ whilst he’s only a couple of years older than you. he’d done some work on the house before, and whilst your parents are away you literally don’t know who to call to fix your hot water problem so you try him, pacing around your room.

at first during your call, he tells you he’s got a shit tonne of work to be doing on other houses and doesn’t have time to drop everything for a kook princess. he can practically see your little pout through the phone, but keeps up his attitude until you thank him for his time anyway, sadly throwing out a little “no, i understand it’s okay. i’ll probably just hit up that jj maybank. i heard he’s pretty handy.” and suddenly he’s changed his tune, physically sitting up from his slouched position to be all “shit, okay fine… fine. i’ll be there in twenty minutes just — just don’t call anyone else a’ight?”

he’s sulking when he turns up with his tool box and that muscle tank and shorts with paint and dirt on them — unable to stop sucking on your bottom lip because he’s just so big and strong. he’s ignoring your lustful gaze with everything in him as he walks through to your bathroom. “lets just get this out the way, yeah?” he drawls as he gets to work.

you sit on the sink and swing your legs, not leaving him alone as he works simply chatting his ear off, seemingly unphased by his blunt replies, finding creative ways to shut you down like reminding you “yeah, uh you’re my little sisters age.” however you seemed totally unscathed, only working harder to prove you’re grown enough to take him.

“should be workin’ fine now so uh… just wire me the money n’we’ll be good. doin’ overtime right now so i kinda just wanna go home.” he waves you off and you step infront of him.

“you’re finished working?”

“di’nt i just say that kid?” he drawls and you grin, dragging him to your lounge.

“perfect! look i really wanna thank you specially for bein’ so helpful to me even though it’s clear you don’t want to. let me cook you dinner. please? i got beer and uh… i’ll make it really good. oh please rafe, my parents are away and i’m all alone.”

he sighs like it tortures his whole being, but he couldn’t deny that your house was super nice — nicer to hang out in than his shitty little fishing shack that he calls a home. he’d heard the cops had been sniffing around for him wanting to talk about a little ‘altercation’ he recently wound up in and didn’t have the energy to deal with that. no one would suspect him in the kook princess headquarters.

he cracks open a beer and lounges on your couch watching tv as you prepare the food for him before sticking everything in the oven and heading upstairs to shower. he doesn’t notice your presence disappear until you’ve returned in the tiniest little night gown and damp hair, leading him to the dining room where you serve up his food.

“some real housewife shit, huh?” he can’t hold back his smile as you seat him infront of a hearty meal. you feel all warm at the implication, shrugging modestly.

it’s inevitable that you wind up in his lap after he’s eaten, having sat with him and flirted — leaning over the table with your tits practically spilling out. you can’t quite recall how you got there, in between telling him you had nothing on under the nightgown and him telling you that it wasn’t his fault that men had primal instincts or some shit like that — but soon he was pulling your dress up to your waist and stuffing himself inside you, roughly fucking up into you.

“oww, rafey!” you whine at how rough he’s being with you, not used to being treated like anything but a princess. he can tell it’s an act though, and you truly do love it from the way your walls contract around him.

“nah, nah you knew what you were doin’ inviting me here. what were — were you just sittin’ around with a fuckin’ wet pussy waitin’ on your moment to invite me round n’let you fuck on me? huh? that was this is?” he bucks his hips, holding onto you to completely take control from below, bashing you against the table with each thrust that was certain to leave bruises.

you whimper, pressing your body to his trying to win over some affection as you sniffle. “just got such a crush on you, rafe.” you mewl and he scoffs, taking that moment to pick you up in his lap and place you on the dining room table instead, gaining more control so he could keep rutting into you.

“sick’a you little kook girls tryn’a — tryn’a use me like im some little experiment that you can toss to the side afterwards.” he complains, gripping your hips and practically using you like a toy. if he wasn’t holding you up, you’d be completely limp.

“dont want you with other girls! not — not gonna get rid of you i just want you.” you defend, and finally he slows his punishing pace to catch his breath, staring down at you analytically with parted lips, dick twitching inside you at the confession.

“that right?” he deadpans and you nod, teary eyed. “that why you let me in this princess cunt raw? huh? no protection or nothin’? just… just hoping i pull out? ha…” he chuckles maliciously, starting to push in deeper once more, upping his pace just a tad. “yeah… yeah maybe i should nut right in here—” he caresses your lower tummy making you whimper, completely at his mercy with your legs split. “knock up some kook pussy. won’t just be a phase then will i? nah baby… nah you’d be stuck with me for life.”

he’s got a sick smile on his face, but what he’s not expecting is for you to grip the back of his neck, your bottom lip wobbling with a serious look in your eyes. “do it.” you command and his face drops a little, realising that maybe he was dealing with a girl that had it bad for him. that, or you’re trying to get some sort of revenge on your parents. either option made his dick throb.

ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #pogue!rafe

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

[stevenose]

don’t delete the kisses - part 8/?

landing page

a camboy!steve au

this installment contains: more smut!! more bonding!! more cute shit!!; camboy!steve; reader with a vagina; ‘princess’ is used in reference to reader once; oral (reader receiving); slight bit of orgasm denial; steve tryna be a s*gar d*ddy; caring steve <3 like steve literally getting off on taking care of u 🫶🏻

though this is written as part of a series, it can be read as a standalone fic!

author’s note: we back gang 🫶🏻 i hope you enjoy this installment! i have a lot more ideas now of where i can take this au so excited to continue it :) and hopefully i will update it before 10 more months pass lmao

You assume, based on the way light filters in through your curtains, that it’s a little after 6 am.

And Steve’s still here.

He’s curled up into your side. Hotter than a radiator but you never move away from him. Not even when you’re sweating from the proximity - of being near him, of holding him when he’s sleeping, vulnerable.

You can still feel the ache he left between your thighs.

You’d stayed up for a while just talking. Admiring. It wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover. But when Steve fell asleep halfway through talking about winning his senior year basketball championship, you couldn’t possibly find it in your heart to wake him up. And at some point in the night his lonely fingers found your side and they haven’t left since.

Robin was right. He does snore.

You’re too wound up to fall back asleep. It feels like something life changing just happened and you’re not sure how to feel about it. What’s he going to say when he wakes up? What if he regrets it? And that cold, terrified grip holds on to your chest, heartbeat quickening.

Steve moans a little behind you. Not like how he sounded last night. It’s innocent, tired, small. His arm pulls you in tighter and then he props himself up to stare at the side of your face.

You look over your shoulder at his messy hair, the little bit of scruff that grew in over his top lip overnight.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, laying back down, pulling you in even closer. He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck sweetly, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your ribcage.

You have to swallow an elated squeal.

“Why’re you up?” his voice is deep, hoarse.

You smile, pushing back into him. “You were snoring.”

He tickles you - well, tries to with his sleepy hands. “I don’t snore.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggles - a sound you’ve never heard in your life, one you’d like to cherish forever - and tucks his chin over your shoulder. “You okay?”

You melt into his touch. Sweat beads at your hairline but you don’t mind. “Mhm.”

He sounds a little more concerned when he asks, “You sure?”

“I promise.” You find his hand under the cover and lace your fingers through his. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He sighs, relieved. “Me, too.”

You’re almost positive he’s fallen back to sleep. His breaths even, get a little shallow. But then he talks again. “Can y’sleep?”

“Think I might just be awake,” you whisper. “But you can keep sleeping.”

“I’m up.”

You hum. “I’m not convinced.”

He rolls you over until you’re on your back, then props himself up above you. One hand finds your cheek and his sleepy eyes search yours for just a moment before he kisses you.

You have never cared less about morning breath.

It’s like he’s touching you for the first time again. All tender and reserved. His thumb swipes across your hot cheekbone and he presses his nose against yours when he pulls back. “Could a sleepy guy do that?”

You’re left a little speechless. You wish you had something funny and clever to say but you’re simply just enamored staring up at his soft face.

Steve looks like he’s thinking for a second, then says, “I can do more, you know.”

“I’m very aware.”

“You want somethin’?” His hand moves down your torso and rests at your hipbone, giving it a little squeeze. “You did all the work last night.”

You feel just as you did last night - excited, scared, sick, overjoyed, ache-y. “That’s not true,” you breathe.

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I don’t mind doing the work.”

You’re entranced. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your hips and he waits for you to say something, looking shy himself. You lick your lips subconsciously. “I don’t mind you doing the work, either.”

He grins and you feel so stupid. But he doesn’t give you a single moment to think of something better to say.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. “I’d do anything for you. Anything you wanted.”

You nod dumbly.

He smiles a little, raising a brow slightly. “What do you want right now, sweetheart?”

You’re looking at his lips and yeah, you want those. You want those in so many places. And that tongue - a ribbon of arousal tightens in your stomach. “I want you.”

“I know you can do better than that,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You want what?”

You can’t speak, so you reach up and tap his lips with your fingers. Your face heats up when he kisses them. “You want my mouth?”

You nod. “Please?”

He kisses them again. “Where do you want it?”

You swallow hard and spread your legs. Last night was intense but this is something else. It’s six in the morning for Christ’s sake. And he looks like he just walked out of a porn shoot.

“Down here?” he asks, finally tucking his thumb into the waistband of your underwear. “Need my mouth on this pretty pussy?”

“Please?” you repeat. You can hardly hear yourself.

Your fingers slide away from his lips as he moves down the bed, throwing the covers to the side for a good look at you. You just about die at the sight of him, hair messy and still so perfect, naked shoulders broad, biceps flexing as he props himself up. “Help me out, huh, baby?”

You lift your hips for him to slide your underwear off. He places them neatly beside you on the bed, pats them twice with a wink. Whatever that means. You laugh, taking a moment to soak in the boy below you with his charm and gleaming eyes and freckles.

And then he parts your legs.

Your breaths hitch at the same time.

The air is cold on your center and you know you’re soaked. Embarrassingly so. But Steve is either indifferent or very much into it, because he says nothing, chestnut eyes trained on your core.

“This okay?” he asks, tearing his eyes away and blinking up at your face.

You nod vigorously. “Yeah, Steve.”

He turns his head to the side to kiss the inside of your thigh. It tickles. “Can you tell me what you want, please?”

You swallow hard, hands finding purchase on the sheets beneath you. “I want you to eat me out, Steve.”

He smiles softly and kisses up your thighs slowly. Occasionally he’ll press open-mouthed kisses to the skin, watching you squirm while he slots himself between them. “Want to know a secret?”

You want to know them all. Every last one. “Mhm.”

“I’ve cum thinking about having you like this before.” Another open-mouthed kiss. “All to myself.” Another. “Tasting how sweet you are, feeling you cum on my tongue.”

You’re more than breathless.

“Thought about it when recording. Had to grit my teeth to not moan your name.”

You listen attentively, burning up.

“And I thought about it at work sometimes,” he admits sheepishly. “About bending you over… eating you out behind the counter… and then I’d come home, set up my camera, and jerk off to it.”

You’re panting by now, his soft lips inching closer and closer to where you need him. You must be making a mess on your bed.

“So, if you think you’re a perv….”

He takes a moment to suck a hickey into your thigh and you finally whine, worked up to a boiling point.

“I thought about - about it, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve sounds hopeful. He readjusts himself below you. Wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs, planting you in place.

It feels a little bit like you’re on a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop.

“I’ve thought about everything with you.”

Inexplicably, Steve’s eyes both brighten and darken at once.

“I’ll give everything to you.”

It’s the most romantic goddamn thing anyone’s ever said to you, and a second later he’s eating your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Oh -!” you gasp, hips jerking up. His strong arms hold you in place, keeps you still while he licks slowly up and down your folds. His tongue, hot and wet and thick, soothes the ache where he worked you open last night. Your head sinks into your pillow, unfocused eyes staring up at the pale blue light on your ceiling. “Oh …!”

“Mhm,” he hums, licks so slow it almost kills you. Your clit throbs, hole clenching, desperate for his affections again. He pulls away, just for a moment, chin already slick and eyes the color of coffee. “You taste so good.”

Steve’s lips wrap around your folds and he sucks. You gasp and arch your back but Steve pins you down again. He isn’t keen on letting you get away from the worship you deserve. He pulls back to look at you again, at your glistening cunt and pleasure-dazed eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. Hold on.”

And his hands reach upwards from where they’re tucked under you. You reach for them, letting your hands interlace again. They lock into place and he squeezes sympathetically, like he knows he’s about to ruin you.

He doesn’t pull any punches when he resumes. The tip of his tongue traces tight circles into your clit and you writhe again, back twisting, whining out for him. He moves slow and methodically and you wish he would just finish you off. It’s almost torturous how gingerly he moves, even if there’s a good reason for it.

Steve doesn’t want to just make you feel good. He wants to devour you. He wants to dedicate the feeling of you, the taste of you, the sounds of your pleasure, all to memory.

And then he purses his lips and sucks on your clit.

You’re so far gone. Eyes rolling back, legs tightening around his face. “Oh my god Steeeeeeve!”

He giggles, but doesn’t stop. Keeps his lips wrapped tight around you, keeps sucking. It makes a perverse noise, so dirty that it makes your stomach flip. Your eyes roll back painfully and just when it’s about to be too much he finally unlatches himself and soothes your swollen clit with a broad stroke of his tongue. He dips down, pushing his face into you to taper his tongue into your hole.

“Oh my god, oh my god, fuck….”

The tip of his nose rubs against your clit steadily while he tastes you. “So gorgeous,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your cunt. “You ever taste yourself?”

“God - no -“

Steve sighs like it’s a pity, then goes back to work. He moves where you need him, just as you need it, like he’s a mind reader. You twist and writhe in his grip before finally getting loose from his hands. They’re clammy as you reach for his hair, tugging just how he likes, and he quite literally growls as his efforts increase tenfold.

Little unhs are torn from your throat. Your eyes roll back and forth, hooded when you finally get the courage to steal a glance at him. His highlighted hair tangled up in your fingers, his back rippling, the veins on his hands popping just a bit as he pins you down. He’s grinding his hips, too, and you moan over that - he loves eating you out so much he’s trying to get off on it.

Your heartbeat hammers in your ears.

“Fingers,” you choke out, tugging on his locs. “Fingers, please Steve?”

“Yeah?” He pulls back, your grip loosening, and he lines his middle finger up with you. “You’re such an angel, know that? Always sayin’ please.”

His fingertip teasing you is driving you to insanity. You swallow hard. “Let’s talk about it another time.”

He laughs again, white teeth gleaning. “What’s wrong? Pussy’s so empty, huh?”

You nod. “Please, I’ll do anything for it.”

His smile turns a little evil. “Okay. Then here’s what’s going to happen.”

He slides his finger into you and you gasp. The pad of it settles right against your sweet spot. He crooks his finger just right and you moan loudly, needily, grinding your hips down.

Steve looks up at you with a little bit of awe and a lot of determination. “I’m going to pay for your rent ‘til you find another job.”

“But -“

Crooks his finger again, makes you cut yourself off with another moan. His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing slow circles into it.

“Mhm, and I’ll get your groceries, too, and I’ll pay for our dates. Treat you like a princess because it’s what you deserve.”

“You can’t,” you reply hoarsely.

“Let me,” he breathes, “or I won’t let you cum.”

Your hands twist hard into your bedsheets. Steve’s fingers move slow, enough to keep your mind hazy, unable to think straight.

“Not fair,” you whimper.

“It’s not fair you lost your job,” he coos sympathetically.

You shake your head. “Not - not fair you’re h-helping.”

“I want to give you the world.” His eyes are soft, his fingers moving faster, calculated. “Let me.”

Your legs shake around his shoulders. “I - but I -“

His mouth replaces the thumb on your clit and you’re gone again. Nothing but a little toy for him to play with. Mind blank, focused on nothing but the coil in your stomach, his tongue swiping across your nub, his lips sucking, his finger curling.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can say.

“Let me,” he moans against your skin, panting a little. “Let me take care of you.”

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve….”

“Say yes.” His voice is rough, hoarse. “Say yes or you won’t cum, baby, ‘nd I wanna see it, wanna see you cum again, please angel.”

Your mouth drops, pleasure and shame heightening in your stomach. You shouldn’t let him. But you want taken care of. And if he’s begging for you to let him, why wouldn’t you?

And, anyway, you really need to cum.

So you nod, mouth dropping open as your high comes to a head. “Y- yes!”

If you could open your eyes, you’d see how happy Steve is. “Yeah? Gonna let me?”

You nod again. “Shit, Steve!”

“Yeah, honey,” he grits, lips still tickling your clit, his finger working your sweet spot, his dick grinding into your bed. “So goddamn pretty, let me taste you when you cum.”

His breath is loud when his mouth engulfs your pussy again. You gasp and reach for his hair, fisting it like it’ll keep you tethered to reality. Your body goes stiff as you cum, clenching down on his finger so hard you’re both not sure how it doesn’t break. Steve groans lowly, tongue and lips still unwavering, sucking your clit into ecstasy.

You feel so good, so taken care of, that you cry, hot tears spilling down your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. Bliss washes over you swiftly and leaves you warm and relaxed in his wake. It seems to last forever. You’re breathless and dizzy by the time you’ve calmed down, body going slack again.

Steve finally pulls himself away from you. A thick string of saliva connects you together. You moan at his flushed, wet cheeks.

“You’re so good at that,” you pant.

He grins, pushes his hair back out of his face before crawling up towards you. He’s quick to grab your chin and press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself for the first time ever. And it’s hot, for no reason. Steve licks into your mouth with it before pulling back.

“You like how that tastes?” he asks, playing with your bottom lip.

You look at him wide-eyed. “Uh-huh.”

“Me, too. Know how much I love it?”

You shake your head.

“I just came in my boxers.”

You gasp, elated. “You mean it?”

He scrunches his nose. “It’s really not that hot.”

“Are you kidding?” you whisper, reaching up for his face. “That’s so goddamn hot, Steve.”

He groans, as if you’re kidding him, and rolls off to lay beside you. You’re quick to stare at his crotch, mouth dropping at the stain spreading over the cotton. He pulls you into his chest before you can properly admire it, and bumps his nose against yours.

“You’re gonna let me, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Cum in your pants?”

“No! I mean about taking care of you.”

“Oh.” You almost forgot about all that. “It’s - you’re so nice, Steve, but my rent’s hundreds of dollars -“

“Okay?”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Alright, don’t brag.”

“It’s only fair. I owe you, remember? Since you paid for my porn?”

Like you could forget.

“And in some ways, you’re like a business partner.”

“How?”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I can assure you I’ve cum to the thought of you in at least half of my videos.”

If it were anyone else, you’d be disgusted, but it’s Steve. Dorky Steve who’s holding you like you’re precious right now, who just sucked your brain out of your clit. You’re a little flattered, in fact.

“You said yes before,” he reminds you.

“I can take it back.”

He furrows his brows, frowns, hums like he’s thinking. “Mmm, don’t think so.”

“Well, I already came, so….”

“Angel,” he sighs, rolling you into your back, crowding back on top of you. His cock is still half hard against your core. “I can always make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You lick your lips, heart beating so fast it feels like it’s skipping. “Oh, yeah? Don’t think you’d last.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

But he still leaves you a stack of hundreds on your bedside table when he’s about to go, refuses to take it back when you try shoving it into his hands.

“Just ‘til you get another job,” he says softly, holding your wrists gently in his hands, the hundreds curled up in your fist. “Let me help ‘til then, okay?”

“Fine,” you whisper, still feeling ashamed.

You both have an idea for another job in mind, but neither of you say anything.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #ddtk

[leiazsolo]

Regarding Tommy (AKA Stop hating him for the “Begins” episodes)

So I’ve been seeing a TON of hate for Tommy specifically because of his behaviour in the ‘Begins’ episodes and how he “shouldn’t be forgiven” so I’m getting fed up and decided to to a TIMELINE of Tommy & why we don’t need to be spoon fed his ‘redemption’ because we saw it across 10-ish years of flashbacks in the Begins episodes and can learn to understand that some stuff can just be implied with storytelling rather than treating the audience like babies and spelling it out for them. I will be starting with his first chronological appearance NOT his first on-screen appearance.

Starting Approx. 2005-2006 2x12 “Chimney Begins” now I’m not sure exactly what dates the episode here but google tells me it’s set around here, If I’m wrong let me know.

This was the big episode of Tommy being an asshole, I will not deny he was an asshole. He was one of the primary assholes of this episode along with the old captain. Let’s look at this episode with what we know about Tommy now, not what we knew then.

Tommy was a closeted gay man in a male-led, white-led field (presumably gay, we haven’t had his label yet) working under a captain we know is Homophobic, Sexist, and Racist. He also was a white man in a white male field back in 2005, prejudice was still a huge thing in 2005 (and still is but we’re not here to talk about that) and this episode shows this well, because it had to fit with the ‘times’. Tommy was an aggressor to begin with Im not going to deny this, but do you know who was also there, standing by and watching the rest of the 118 treat Chimney like shit for MONTHS? Eli! Yes lovey Eli who eventually helped get Chim into the field and let him stay with him in Boston. Yes he ended up being a good guy, but that doesn’t excuse the months he spent staying quiet watching the 118 mistreat Chim. You’ll see this theme pop up again later, funnily enough. Eventually we see Tommy and Chim become civil, after Chimney saves his life. He goes on to befriend Chimney, telling him his favourite movie is Love Actually (that’s fruity) amongst other things.

Fast forward to somewhere between 2009-2010 2x09 “Hen Begins” aka the next time we see Tommy chronologically and the first time we meet him in the show. We know a rough timeline as Sal says his girlfriend took him to see the new Twilight movie, and they reference the Edward vs Jacob, which means it’s most likely New Moon or Eclipse as that was more heavily a marketing thing for those two than the first one. This is also the first time Tommy is implied to be gay (He doesn’t deny the accusation and instead jokes about kissing Sal/Chimney) Now at this point in time I know this probably was not planned, but is something to look back at.

Tommy is this episode steps back from being an aggressor, he is still working under Gerrard and still closeted. He is still a part of the problem, but other than being present in the episode and in the scenes where Sal and Gerrard acted as aggressors, he didn’t actually contribute verbally to the mistreatment of Hen. The primary aggressor for Hen was Gerrard and remained to be Gerrard throughout the episode even when her co-workers saw her doing good things. And going back to Eli in Chimneys episode, guess who was also a bystander to Hens mistreatment, filling a similar role to Hen that Eli filled? CHIMNEY. He stood back for also presumably months, didn’t defend Hen against their co-workers, and just let what happened to him happen to her. Then, at the end of the episode it’s revealed multiple members of her team submitted complaints against their captain for the mistreatment of Hen, I’m willing to bet that he was one of those people, him, Chim, and even potentially Sal as he was less of an ass by the end. By the end of her episode we know they are now friendly at work and he thinks she’s a good firefighter.

Skip forward to 2014-ish, 2x16 “Bobby Begins Again.” We immediately see the team meshing, Chim, Hen, Tommy, and even Sal. 9 Years have passed since he met Chimney, and 4-ish since Hen and it’s implied they’re a friendly unit, Tommy is still closeted, and has been working under a rotating number of captains (six to be exact), but has clearly become a better, and more accepting person, the world is changing and he isn’t being held back with the times. He goes out for drinks with Hen & Chimney, laughs with them, has an overall good time being their friend and seeming enjoying working under Bobby for another 4 years, we even see them smash his face into a cake at a surprise leaving party they’ve thrown him. We know Buck took his place at the 118 which was not long before S1 began, so we’re assuming he left the 118 2017/2018.

This is the last time we see Tommy until 7x03, presumably set in 2023/2024 “Capsized”, a whole canonical 16-18 years after we first meet him, and 6 years since he left the 118. In those 6 years we know he:

A) is still friendly with Chimney, we know from 2x14 when he phones him to drop the fire retardant on the house. He is also mentioned to still be in contact in 3x16

B) Has come out/discovered his sexuality.

C) Is obviously not bigoted, or at least as much as he was back in 2005-ish.

In terms of Hen we can assume they haven’t really stayed “friends” since Tommy left, as she states in Capsized that she forgot he worked there. She worked with him for 8-ish years, I’ve worked with people for that length of time and don’t talk to them now, doesn’t mean I hate them, we just don’t really have reason to talk anymore. I just think their friendship was more a “we’re work friends” kind of relationship rather than a “we’re in each other’s lives” one, which is a completely normal and valid relationship. Whereas with Chim we know they’ve remained at least acquaintances to chat, and friends enough that Tommy would risk both his life and job to save Bobby.

At this point in the timeline it’s been approximately CANONICALLY 16-18 years since we met Tommy, and the fandom is still asking for his character to be held accountable for things he said all those years ago, when clearly in the canon of the show has been forgiven. At this point in the show I really don’t think we need to be spoonfed this narrative, it would feel clunky and weird to see an apology on screen for something that’s clearly been addressed off screen. It would frankly be a waste of the limited airtime we have this season.

I also think it’s super important to remember that Tommy wasn’t planned that far in advance, we know he was bought back by Minear because he wanted the person who was part of Bucks coming out to be someone the audience had already met before & Lou was both available and willing to do it. If they had been planning this exact storyline since season 2, maybe Tommy would have been portrayed differently, who knows.

I get we love Buddie and we want Buddie so much, I am not and never will jump ship from Buddie, I love that Tommy is Bucks first boyfriend, I just hope Eddie gets to be his last.

I’m also super glad we’re getting Bucks coming out separately from Eddies potential future coming out, I am on the (seemingly) small majority that thinks that would have been way too much to happen all at once, and also the characters deserve to have their own coming out stories not to be lumped together.

so yeah. TLDR; Tommy has evolved over 16-18 years, 10 years of which we saw across the Begins episodes, and if we want to be spoonfed his accountability for his behaviour in the begins episode, we should also be asking the same from Eli and Chim.

#Tommy Kinard #911 abc #911 season 7 #bucktommy #evan buckley #911 #9-1-1 #9 1 1 abc #buck x tommy #listen i’m just fed up bc this happens with everyone Buck or Eddie dates #if you wanna dislike bucktommy go for it i’m not saying you have to like them #or even like tommy #i’m just saying you need to just be honest about your reasons for disliking him #and you don’t have to forgive him that’s fine you do you #but you can’t act like the characters haven’t

[hestiaflames]

the enigma of jeremy knox

after one full read and revisiting some of my annotations (and shoutout to @andrewminyardslawyer for this collection of passages) I have attempted to collect my observations and conclusions/theories about the enigma named Jeremy Knox

please tell me your interpretations

Jeremy’s Dad

Mr. Wilshire is Jeremy’s stepfather (we know from "Bryson is in the sitting room with Mr. Wilshire" and then Jeremy referring to him as his stepfather. I was confused about this at the beginning lol)

This means that Knox is Jeremy’s dad’s name. Why doesn’t he want to be called Knox? Is it the reminder of divorce or his family drama when he’d rather not think about it?

Speaking of Jeremy’s dad: "Dad's been stationed [in Europe] a couple times". Most likely military, then. The tense (“Dad has been”) suggests that his dad is still in his life, not dead or estranged (otherwise I’d expect “Dad was stationed” instead). Unless perhaps Jeremy is going out of his way to hide it? He does avoid talking about his family, but he brings this up unprompted and I get the sense that Laila and Cat would know something that big so I don’t think this is a lie

Jeremy maintaining a relationship with his dad could certainly be a point of conflict with his stepfather and siblings, but doesn't seem to fit the "freshman year exy banquet scandal" we're catching wind of. It's possible his dad was involved, but I don't think it's where my money would go. 

Jeremy’s Siblings

Cat tells Jean that Jeremy has one sister and two brothers. Twice we hear Bryson referred to as “the older brother” and Annalise as his younger sister, so the siblings are:  Bryson, Jeremy, and Annalise-and-unnamed-brother-in-unknown-order. 

Of course, we must address “Jeremy has–three” and Jean “idly wondering what she’d changed at the last minute and why”. It sounds like the number changed (unless I’m missing a possibility here?), so why?

Step or half siblings? There is a stepfather in the mix, so she could have increased it to include step or half siblings, but I lean towards not this. Jeremy says that “the Knox family was duty-bound to dress up and smile bright for [the] cameras”, which would be odd to say if his siblings weren’t all Knoxes. Also, Cat tells Jean this after telling him that her two oldest siblings are half siblings, so imo it would be an odd thing to hide on Jeremy’s behalf

Otherwise, I think we’re talking about a death or estrangement. The unnamed younger brother, probably (though perhaps a fourth sibling). Now this is “broke the family in half” or “destroyed the family” territory. “broke the family in half” could be a death but almost sounds more like a schism, perhaps between Dad & Unnamed Brother and the rest of the family? Or perhaps Jeremy&Dad?

Jeremy & Bryson. What is going on here?

Pretty much the first thing we learn about Jeremy is that he is avoiding his older brother, leaving without his keys to avoid the possibility of an interaction.

Jeremy says that Bryson always spends his summers at home, and also specifically says he’ll be staying at Cat & Laila’s over the summer but then only over on weekends during the school year.

The conversation he has with Lucas: “Do you feel safe with him there?” “He’s my brother” “That’s not what I asked” could be read as him being protective of his teammate, but also could be implying that Jeremy knows what it’s like to feel unsafe around his brother. Learning there have been physical altercations wouldn’t come from left field.

The Fall Banquet Exy Scandal

Speaking of breaking the family in half, what happened at this fall banquet?

Annalise says “Overdue for a new scandal… End the way you started”, so it happened his freshman year. She went out of her way to forget everything about Exy and can’t forgive Jeremy for continuing to play, so she seems to blame Exy as much as she blames Jeremy. 

If it did in fact have to do with the younger brother, did he get hurt badly or die playing? If a high schooler died playing Exy three years before, would we have heard about it from Jean or Neil? Our other two narrators are not what you’d call tuned into the outside world all the time. On the other hand, yes Jeremy compartmentalizes even in his narration, but you’re telling me it never crosses his mind while playing a very rough sport if his brother was severely injured? It’s possible, but I’m not sold on this theory. It also wouldn’t explain why it’s tied specifically to the banquet.

The other thought I have is that something happened at that banquet that was some kind of PR mess. The family-in-politics obsession with being a “picture-perfect family” and Jeremy being unwelcome at dinner after bleaching his hair support this, but the Trojan reputation doesn’t. Whatever happened would have to walk the line between totally unacceptable to the family but also not a blemish on the Trojan reputation. Jeremy is made captain and Jean (who knows who he is and would be aware of a Trojan scandal even if it happened before his freshman year, since he was in the Nest and with Riko and Kevin) doesn’t know about it. Kevin is obsessed with the Trojans and with Jeremy, and Jeremy’s teammates (besides Lucas’ almost-comment about him being gay) show nothing but respect for him and his leadership.

I’ve seen speculation that it could have to do with Jeremy being gay, but this would again seem to contradict the fact that Jean and especially Kevin would know, wouldn’t they? I also don’t think Nora’s gonna do that. She wrote gay, trans, and polyamorous Trojans, which you could argue are accepted because it’s the Trojans, but even Jean doesn’t blink about Cody’s pronouns. It doesn’t really make sense to me that she’d pointedly avoid doing 2007-appropriate homophobia and then turn around and do 2007-appropriate homophobia. Possible? Yes. Do I think it’s gonna happen? No.

Cops

“There was little to no chance he’d know them, and no reason they’d recognize him, but Jeremy kept his gaze forward and mouth shut until they were past”. He’s afraid to be recognized. Is it because of a previous interaction (from the banquet? the scandal?) or because of his family? Is he apprehensive about them reacting to him, or something getting back to his family? 

Later Rhemann offers to send Jeremy away before bringing the cops in after Jean is attacked. Jean has no idea why Rhemann is suggesting it, but it means that whatever Jeremy’s fear of cops is, he knows about it and also assumes Jeremy told Jean. This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that Just Comes Up with your coach, so it’s probably based on a prior experience in college. The freshman year banquet again sounds like the likely explanation here.

Jeremy and Mental Health

Jean says “Maybe [Grayson] will also kill himself” and Jeremy replies “That isn’t a joke”, with “unexpected ferocity”. Cat winces. This could be Jeremy being well adjusted (A little before this, Cat says, “That’s not a thing well-adjusted people say”, after all), but his tone and Cat’s reaction makes it seem a lot more personal than Jeremy just saying “Suicide jokes aren’t funny”. 

Guys, I think Jeremy’s mystery brother might’ve killed himself. If he played Exy and was bullied or maybe got seriously injured and later killed himself, and cops showed up when it happened, and it was somehow brought up during that banquet and Jeremy said something or reacted somehow that caused a familial rift… I think this is my leading theory.

Initially I didn’t think anything of “There’s been an accident”, but I wonder if maybe that’s how the news was broken to him about his brother. Or if his family insists on calling it “an accident” and maybe what happened at the banquet was Jeremy acknowledging that he doesn’t think it was. 

“The right therapist can be legit life changing–just look at Jeremy for proof”, Cat says. We knew from the first Jeremy chapter that he was in therapy and talked about his family, but “life changing” speaks to the severity of all of it. His mom picking the therapist suggests that either he was off the rails enough for her to intervene (more likely mental health issues than something like drug use, again given the Trojans) or that she’s more supportive or sympathetic to him than his siblings and step father. We hear few references to his mom; just a passing comment about her bookkeeper, a mention that she makes the kids go to fundraisers and other events, and that she’s allergic to dogs. Oh, we also know that his mother didn’t hit him. We know he doesn’t get on with his sister or older brother and is “permanently on his stepfather’s bad side”, but very little at all about his relationship with his mom.

Miscellaneous 

About the floozies, and I actually don’t think this is Jeremy backstory. Cat says it was “in response to some drama my freshman year”. She’s a rising junior, so that would’ve been Jeremy’s junior year. Jeremy’s scandalous exy banquet was his freshman year, so I think this is Catalina backstory, not Jeremy’s. I am obsessed with the fact that the queer Trojans nicknamed themselves the floozy line. Icons

One other line that seems potentially telling to me is, “What’s Grandpa think of this investment of yours”. What did Annalise mean by investment? Jeremy putting his time into exy? His use of money? The last thing Jeremy said was about Jean, could he be the “investment”? I think it’s most likely about exy, maybe how his commitment to it either reflects badly on the family or is seen as a silly endeavor

god, i could not be more excited for tsc2, or for the speculation in the meantime

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #jeremy knox #jean moreau #usc trojans #aftg #all for the game #my post #aftg meta #tsc meta

[jooba]

wolfman x reader

"Imagine getting the great news that you're one of a million civilians chosen to go to a distant planet, to intermingle with the local aliens. Unfortunately, your online friend doesn't exactly seem to like that idea."

TW: MDNI, reader referred to as 'girl', sexual desires, anxiety, neurodivergent reader, reader big dumb, licking, 'virgin' reader, hand appreciation

wordcount: 2,388

Three words: Civilian Space Program. The most incredible opportunity of a lifetime (for an average Joe like you).

One word: Congratulations! The letter you held in your shaking hands almost didn’t seem real. It was glossy, professional, and signed by someone so important that it was a 100% probability that you would never breathe the same air as them. Congratulations! But it was real, and your life would never be the same. You were going to space. To meet aliens. Your poor little heart almost couldn’t take it. Breath labored, you quickly snapped a picture of the letter before posting it to all of your socials. Quickly, friends and family bombarded you with questions and excitement, just as in disbelief as you are. Several phone calls later, and plenty of assurances to those with concerns, you fell back onto your couch, still clutching the letter. In just a month, you would be boarding a vessel with 14 other civilians, shipped off to the planet Geron 6GI, and left there for 3 years to “create relations” and “cultivate a human lifestyle”. Whatever that means. All you knew was that you… were a monsterfucker… and… well… aliens are sort of like monsters too. 

In your elation, you nearly missed the newest comment on your Instagram post. It was Peter, an online friend whom you had known for years. It simply said, “call me.” Peter knew about the program and how badly you wanted to be in it, but he was pretty adamant that your chances were too low. Smiling, you dialed his number. He answered on the first ring, speaking before you had a chance to.

“This is serious? You’re serious?” 

“Of course! I’m freaking out, Peter. I’m going to SPACE. I’m going to fuck so many aliens, you don't even know. Well, you do know, but-”

“You’re leaving in a month?” He asked. You kicked your legs in glee, squealing. 

“Yep! 3 years in space and depending on how the program goes it might go on for longer. God, should I bring my toys? Do you think they’ll even be allowed on the flight? But what if the aliens have toys that I can buy…” Your breath hitched just at the thought. There was silence on his end for a few moments.

“You’re a virgin.” Cheeks turning red, you scoffed into your phone.

“So what?” 

“So you’re giving yourself away to some random alien?” He hissed the word lowly, talking in a manner you had never heard from him before. You take a second to collect your thoughts, not understanding where his aggression is coming from.

“Peter… we live in the 21st century. Virginity is a stupid construct. Besides, I uh... I’m not really a virgin, you know.” 

“What?” 

“Ugh, can we not talk about this? So embarrassing…” You mumble, turning to a more comfortable position on the couch. There was silence as both of you struggled with what to say next. It wasn’t like you were actually embarrassed talking about sexual things, but Peter had a way of making your stomach flutter. It was awful having a mini crush on someone online, and even worse when he insisted on hearing all the details of your life. All the details. 

“I’m going to come see you.” He said, sighing into the phone. You froze, blinking in surprise. The two of you had never met in real life before, you’ve never even seen a picture of him! Sometimes, you would discuss meeting, but he lived a long flight away and schedules never seemed to work out. Over time, the thought of seeing him in person became too daunting, and you always shot him down. What if he thought you were too ugly to be friends with? What if the two of you couldn’t get along in person, and he lost interest? 

“A-are you sure, Peter?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. 

“Of course.”

You stood nervously in the airport, shifting back and forth. People kept glancing at you, giving you curious glances. Avoiding eyes with an old troll whose beard desperately needed maintenance, you wiped the sweat from your face with your sleeve. Maybe you’d be less nervous if you had brought a friend with you to pick up Peter… Your phone buzzed with a text. 

landing now

You watch as the terminal quickly fills up with tired travelers. Eyes swiping back and forth from person to person, you attempt to pick out a man to match Peter’s description of himself. But his description was so vague, all you really knew was that apparently he was tall and had brown hair. 

Someone bumps into you, and your phone clatters to the ground. They quickly apologize but scurry away too quickly for you to get a good look at them. Grumbling, you bend down to pick up your phone, dusting it off and checking for cracks. When your eyes lift, your heart explodes in surprise at the wolfman standing before you. Hot! Inner you squeals. Standing nearly two heads taller than you, he’s lean and dressed very cleanly. Chestnut-colored fur streaks around his cheeks and neck, speckled with darker colors around his hairline and dipping underneath his shirt. Black eyes peer at you, squinting slightly.

“Oh, um. Hi!” You laugh nervously, tugging at your hair. “Just dropped my phone.” You wave your phone in front of you, but then quickly tuck it away when you realize how dumb you probably looked. The wolfman’s mouth slowly curls up into a predatory smile, top lip slightly gaped to allow for pointy fangs to peek through. 

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, eyes appraising your figure. You have to desperately ignore the urge to cover yourself from his evaluating gaze. You laugh weakly.

“T-thanks.” You give him a small smile. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. He hikes his backpack up over his shoulders, raising one eyebrow at you. Does he want something from you…? Oh god. Despite his good looks, it’s not the best time to be flirting with someone: not when you’re waiting for Peter. 

“I’m sorry. I’m.. uh… picking up a friend. Sorry.” You glance away from him, pretending to search the crowd for Peter. Why is he taking so long?

The wolfman grumbles with quiet laughter, almost a mixture of a purr and low-pitched whine. It's a rather charming sound. Suddenly, his clawed hand is on your scalp, rubbing against your hair to mess it up. He tugs certain strands this way and that, causing an absolute mess. You gasp, pulling away, quickly attempting to fix the mess he just made. 

“You’re even denser in person than I thought you would be,” he says, looking extremely satisfied at your misery. His ears twitch slightly. You pause, squinting up at him in irritation.

“Well, that’s rude. And please don’t touch my hair, I don’t know you.” You take a step back away from him in caution just to be safe. 

The wolfman huffs, rolling his eyes slowly. “That’s the thing. You do know me.” He pulls his phone out, and types onto it quickly, before looking at you expectantly. Your phone buzzes. A message from Peter. 

right in front of you. so dense.

You can’t quiet the gasp that leaves your mouth in time. You gape up at him, astonished.

“You never told me you were a wolfman!?!” 

Heart racing, you bring your knuckle up to your mouth and light chew on a finger. All these years, all the calls and long talks and he never thought to mention his species?! Oh god, you have said so many embarrassing things to him: things you would never say to a non-human. Things about giant monster cocks and clawed hands and fluffy sensitive ears and oh my GOD. You swear heat is steaming out of your ears with how embarrassed you are. 

“Didn’t think it mattered,” he shrugs. He reaches up to lightly scratch at one fluffy ear, maintaining eye contact with you. It twitches at his touch, apparently sensitive. You want to coo and squeal at how cute it is, but you restrain, just barely. Gnawing on your finger, you avert your eyes. You must not look at the handsome wolfman. Must resist. Must get Peter home without drowning in your drool…

One car ride home, hours of gentle ribbing and teasing, a desperate call to the nearest fast food joint, and a change into pajamas later, you find yourself sitting on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in hand, waiting patiently for Peter to join you. He’s taking a long time in the bathroom, but you’re not too worried. It seemed your apartment was a bit too small for him, and he was constantly ducking his head and squeezing past your furniture. Admittedly, it was really charming. You can’t help but shovel popcorn into your face as you wait. You can’t wait too long, otherwise the popcorn will get stale! In the middle of licking your fingers free from butter and salt, Peter plops down next to you. You slide down the couch and end up sitting right against you. He wraps an arm around you on the couch, hands already playing with your hair. He’s dressed in loose pajama pants and a t-shirt that says ‘You are fang-tastic!’ in faded letters.

“Really couldn’t wait for me, huh.” You smile in embarrassment, pulling your fingers out of your mouth. His dark eyes quickly zero in on your glistening fingers. Grimacing, you go to wipe them on your pants, but his hand wraps around your wrist before you can. You immediately notice how much bigger his hand is than yours, and how fur wraps around his knuckles but his fingers and palm are bare. 

“Let me,” he purrs, eyes drooping into half lids. He opens his mouth and a long, pink tongue rolls out. It’s rounded at the end and fades into a slight purple the further back it gets. You’re instantly drawn to it and watch in stunned silence as he brings your fingers up to his mouth. He licks a long stripe up your fingers before twisting and turning them to lap at every inch. Quickly, your fingers become drenched in hot saliva. You clench your thighs, wishing he would put that tongue somewhere else… A soft noise leaves you, and he meets your eyes again. You mentally berate yourself for having dirty thoughts about your friend. He nips gently at your pointer finger. You squeak and pull your hand away, face certainly red. You hold your hand to your chest limply, now drenched in saliva. You blink at him, words caught in your throat.

“Mmm… tastes good.” Right. Good popcorn. Ha ha… ha… The TV blares and the two of you startle at the noise. Peter is quick to grab the remote and mute it. He watches the quiet television for a moment, throat bobbing.

“Let’s talk for a moment, space girl.” His voice is almost... uncertain. You grin unabashedly at the nickname, pleased. It immediately calms you down and you find yourself relaxing.

“Sure!” You place the popcorn down and turn on the couch, facing him directly. He turns to face you as well, one leg crossing over the other. The arm around the back of the couch begins to tap on the cushion.

“Just let me talk for a moment, no interruptions, okay?” He raises an eyebrow when you open your mouth to respond, and you huff, but stay quiet.

“Honestly, I thought I was being pretty straightforward with you all this time, but with this space fiasco, I knew you weren’t exactly getting the message. Had to talk to you face-to-face. I’ll make this short and sweet, easy to understand. I don’t want you going to space.” He raises one hand when you look like you are about to object. Breathing deeply, he continues.

“Don’t go to space. Stay here. I’ll give you all the monster cock you want, promise… I’m not usually one to wait so long, but I knew during our first call I would have to take it slow with you. I’ve been biding my time all these years, slowly getting to know you, waiting for my chance. And then I saw your post. When I saw that, it left me ‘peterified’.” He chuffs at his joke, pleased. 

“So yeah, I’ve got feelings for you. And a lot of them revolve around ramming my cock down your throat. Or god, knotting you,” he sighs wistfully as he speaks. He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. 

.

.

.

Ho….ly…. SHIT! You’re frozen on the spot, mind racing with a thousand dirty thoughts. You’ve dreamt of this moment, dreamt of a monster desiring you. And now…now you’re presented with an opportunity. 

“F-forget space! Oh my god. Peter? Peter!” You’re squealing now, your body shaking with excitement. You stand up and begin pacing, not even really aware of what you’re doing. Peter relaxes on the couch, mouth tilted up in a sly smile.

“This is crazy. Are you serious? He’s serious. I-I need to shave! And prep! Oh god, I don’t know if I’m ready for this…” You bite at your finger nervously, the beginnings of nausea twisting your stomach. Who knew that aching and wanting something for so long would have you feeling so sick?

Peter tugs at your hand, slowing your pacing. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, you nut. Just breathe.” He breathes in deeply, and you copy him instinctually. He guides your breath into something much slower, much more manageable. You smile at him gratefully, falling onto the couch. 

“Sorry, this is just… a lot,” you sigh out. He shakes his head. 

“Not at all. Just take it easy.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just think about it, yeah?” You nudge him back, eyes twinkling.

“So, all this time you’ve…” you question. He simply nods his head.

“But you didn’t even know what I looked like?” You're surprised when his face starts to turn a gentle shade of red. He coughs into his fist, looking away. He speaks, in a cool tone that doesn’t match his cheeks, “Yeah, I knew right from the start. Your looks are just a plus.” 

Aaand now you’re looking away, embarrassed. 

“Oh, okay,” you mumble. 

#suggest TW #monster fucker #wolfman x reader #monster x reader #sorry #hmmm should i write more for Peter? #x reader #not a werewolf #MDNI #monster/alien/human society #not proofread #its 2 am

[starberry-cupcake]

I shouldn't be making another one of these because I didn't even give you enough time to catch up and I'm sure you're tired of me (I'm probably losing mutuals over the length of these) BUT I FINISHED ACT II and I think this is the right place for an update recap. I'm so sorry.

previously, in harrowlana the ninth (reference I might explain one day):

this happened

currently, chapters 20 - 22 (END OF ACT II!!!):

we start with a killer epitaph from harrow for her own grave that I absolutely 10000% need in a tshirt yesterday

"Here lies the world's most insufferable witch"

alleged gideon the first, here known as ortus the first (but I am so sure about this one) has tried to kill harrowbeanie 14 times

I honestly don't know how harrow is going through this without outright telling emperor johnny man to go and insert this entire planetary situation right in the center of his bolthole

we're over here working overtime for you and your sorry ass of a plan that is probably terrible for everyone who isn't you

and we have to put up with zombies (we'll get there), the terrible attitude of your remaining lyctors, very questionable food, very questionable decor, very questionable non goth fashions, and also a man who tries to kill harrow at every turn

this is the worst

at least in canaan house we had gideon's humor and camilla's perfection

ANYWAY

emperor john tells alleged gideon the first (if I'm wrong about this, these are going to be embarrassing looking back on) "she's your responsibility, not your punching bag" to which alleged gideon the first answers "I find the responsibility a hard one"

I'm not sure if this is alluding to baby lyctors in general or harrow in particular, or if anything related to the gideon-involvement narrative I'm imagining has anything to do with it

emperor johnny boy tells harrowbean that this guy's problem is that he made a pact with an "authority he has no power to gainsay" to protect emperor johnny john and that alleged gideon the first thinks harrow is a danger to the emperor

I SURE HOPE SO

I SURE HOPE HARROW KILLS THIS MAN

I HOPE ALLEGED GIDEON THE FIRST IS RIGHT

harrow then mentions how she's "lyctor lite" and emperor john of nottingham says he doesn't think harrow fucked up the lyctor thing

he says only one person fucked it up and it was nasty

it was the ninth lyctor, Anastasia (and a song someone sings, once upon a december)

the vacant room harrowbean has taken residence in was meant for her, but she never made it there

she asked emperor john the asshat to kill her and he said no because he's that kind of a person

"she had much more to give"

I hate this guy

he also says "I had a body and I needed a tomb"

harrow asks the question everyone is asking themselves

aside from where tf are gideon and camilla

"God, who did you bury?"

he gets all vague and cryptic so he can avoid taking about what the fuck he's doing

and he quotes Annabel Lee

edgar allan poe's Annabel Lee

this is a bit more in my wheelhouse than shakespeare

to which harrow notes "Who was A.L.?"

now, I have SEVERAL THINGS TO SAY

first, and most importantly, I HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS

THAT ICE CUBE BARBIE MIGHT BE A.L.

I HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS, FAM

here's more magic knight rayearth art of the vibes I get from them to celebrate

second of all, Annabel Lee

I do have Annabel Lee in one of my EAP books, but not the one with the pretty Lacombe illustrations

so here are some Ligeia illustrations from it that have the vibe we're going for, as a treat

now, not to be all ortus over here, but I'm gonna be reciting some poetry

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea.

gonna put that in the 3d model

in the middle of it, like a centerpiece

let's bring back the barbie

this man is doing the whole wife/madwoman in the attic gothic trope but instead of an attic it's a tomb in pluto

another madwoman archetype to add to the list, we've got a whole collection

CHAPTER 21

we have summoned ortus by reciting poetry, because we're back in the gideon-less version of canaan house

so, the sixth is dead in this version

the sleeper or random rifle carrying person shot them in the face a bunch of times

what I wanted to do to not!dulcinea

harrow mentions not having seen camilla or palmolive much in this gideon-less version

devastating for her not to have met camilla

so then protozoa and dulcinea come in

notice I didn't say not!dulcinea

that's because this is the real deal dulcinea and the alive non zombified protozoa

we can know this by their descriptions (especially the hair), the fact that dulcinea knows who tf palmolive is, that she has a breathing tube that palmolive designed for her (this guy istg), that she can identify them and calls them "cam" and "pal"

I was so caught up on this book I forgot to read the short story that came before it btw

anyway, we also know this because protozoa speaks, but we'll get to that

before that, ortus calls the sleeper "the waker" and it's giving me the vibes of the citadel deck

wait, I'm gonna take a pic of some of the cards that give me the correct tlt vibes, so you know what the hecko I'm talking about

(I'm going on unplanned tangents but maybe someone appreciates them)

(we've moved from 3d models to me fetching books and decks from my shelves, what has palmolive done to me)

so, as previously established, protozoa speaks, which is how we know he might be the real one and not the zombie version

he then proceeds to recite poetry

ortus is feral about this

I thought initially that they were gonna have to make room for protozoa in the polycule ortus is in with the fifth, but he doesn't like protozoa coming for his gig

abby says "we're all in this together" which reminds me I did make a high school musical connection with magnus before, so it's funny that it turned out that way

abby asks real dulcinea, aka "dulcie" to her, to bring in mayonnaise uncle because he'll listen to her

why is everyone always into her in all the aus, idk

this one is less bad than not!dulcinea though, but the bar for that was on the subsoil

magnus (who is very much in love with his wife and he's pointing it out every chance he gets) is in charge of looking for martita

harrow is in charge of regina george twin (and yandere twin)

abby thinks regina george twin is the most relevant one

apparently also they're flooded with the rain

which was me last week, so I feel you fam

and we get our traidtional quote, this time by real dulcinea

"Is this really how it happens, Lady Pent?" "No. It's not" "Does it get—better than this? Do you know?"

real dulcinea is saying goodbye to palmolive and the love of my life, who I refuse to accept is in any way harmed in any timeline

and harrow "felt something in her core, though she did not know precisely what it was"

palmolive had a filmsy and we love flimsies because they have what I have started to call "harrow texts"

or "texts which can only be read by harrow"

OP is still ranting, a continuation of the egg rant

I'm gonna transcribe all of it and bold the new part, for my own access, even though everyone who has me in their dash will hate me and block me

The eggs you gave me all died and you lied to me so I did the implantation myself you self-serving zombie and you still sent him after me and I would have had him if I hadn't been compromised and he took pity on me! he took pity on me! he saw me and he took pity on me. And for that I'll make you both suffer until you no longer understand the meaning of that goddamned word. Him I'll kill quick because she asked me to and because that much he honestly deserves but you two mummified wizard shits I will burn and burn and burn burn until there is no trace of you left in the shadow of my long-lost natal sun

could the self-serving zombie be emperor john? could gideon the first be one of the people alluded to? has Annabel Lee anything to do with any of this? since OP mentions a long-lost natal sun? who's "she"? has gideon's mom anything to do with any of this? is this totally not related? is this the actual present? does 'mummified wizard shits' stand for lyctor? because I kinda live for that

ortus, on the other hand, sees an S

ortus in this timeline knows how his dad died, apparently

and we end this part with harrow and ortus finding rusted pipette needles

CHAPTER 22

harrow has killed 13 planets in this practice, which is insane and nobody's asking any questions about it

she was dreaming with ice cube barbie annabel lee and she told her to wake up

harrow mentions the sword sleeping next to her in a loverlike position and it reads like a gideon body pillow to me

remember when I said we should have flushed not!dulcinea into space?

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT

nobody ever takes the not!dulcinea threat seriously but me

I have to do everything around here

she's a zombie now, which is protozoa's revenge from behind the veil

there's a moment in which she trips but still looks at harrow and it's very creepy and well narrated but I can't help but think of the dracula dead and loving it scene with hypnosis

"it was as though a magnet were stuck in the meat, a magnet that craved some polar force within you" wonder what THAT is about

much like the sleeper/waker, not!dulcinea can pass through wards apparently

harrow goes to wake up yandere twin and says "septimus is walking"

yandere twin doesn't understand at first "the name that had never been cytherea's" and later says "tell her I want my arm back"

which relates to the fact that I've been thinking

if real dulcinea is there in the gideon-less ver

how was not!dulcinea even involved?

because harrow seems to have memories of killing her, of fighting her, of her doing damage in some way, of her being a threat, of her doing it to lure emperor johnny boy to canaan house

so we have some big missing link between the gideon-less canaan version and the emperor's bolthole timeline

she can't be the sleeper/waker, because harrow wouldn't call her "septimus"

so harrow remembers not!dulcinea posing as real dulcinea, which does not happen in the gideon-less version, as far as we can tell atm

AGAIN, DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING, LET ME BE IN DISTRESS

last but not less important

remember not to hint me anything at all and thank you for being patient with me all this time ♥

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #long post #gif cw

[vidavalor]

"Help may come from an unexpected quarter."

We can take apart all of God's intro to Good Omens in 1.01 at some point if people continue to be into my word nerdy posts but I want to look at just one part of it right now-- the end of the horoscope-- and how it applies to S2 in a way that I think helps to explain The Final Fifteen. That part is:

Help may come from an unexpected quarter:

A coming is an arrival. Gabriel's unexpected arrival is the start of S2 and 2.01 is entitled "The Arrival." One of the meanings of a quarter is that it is a coin-- specifically, that it is American money worth 25 cents. There is not a British monetary equivalent to the quarter-- just as that, if we go by accents, there is only one "American" angel in a sea of "British" ones and that "American" angel is, of course, Gabriel.

The quarter is the coin inserted to play a song on an American jukebox. Gabriel's miracle of a constant state of "Everyday" on The Resurrectionist Pub's jukebox makes him basically a never-ending roll of eternal quarters. So, in this way, Gabriel is the unexpected quarter, right?

So, let's keep going with this and see what we can dig out of the words in the end of the horoscope that God read to us in 1.01 that might relate to what going on in 2.06...

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. "Hired help"/"The help" can refer to both to those who clean and to those who cater...

...and also to assistant shopkeepers, in general, whose goal is to try to be as helpful as possible:

Remember how the opening shot of Good Omens in 1.01 is the word WAR but then it expands out and shows us that we were looking at the word WAR within the word WARNING? This tells us that, right from the get-go, the show suggests that we take a close look at its language-- in particular, the roots of words. How they evolved, their histories and how they are related to other words aka their etymologies.

Our first rule of language in GO, per the opening of the show, is to always look for words within other words-- which I'm sure Anthony J. "(d)awning of a new age" Crowley would also suggest is always a fun idea. There can be a lot of deeper meaning in this but there also can just be a ton of humor as well. Case in point:

😂 UneX-PECted QuARTer:

More seriously now, though...

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. Hell: From the Old English and the Dutch hel...

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. Our unexpected quarter is Gabriel. The Metatron makes Gabriel a fallen angel, causing Gabriel to make a run for it, and starting a series of events that lead to Hell coming for Aziraphale:

Help may come from an unexpected quarter:

Maggie: Well, I'm going to my shop to sleep behind the counter... unless you need some help.

Nina: *asks Maggie to go get her 27 different kinds of milk/creamer, all of which come in... quart containers*...which Maggie does. When she returns, Nina and Maggie make the coffee ordered by "The Metatron," which would have been unable to be made without the quart of oat milk.

Help may come from an unexpected quarter...

Homophony: Quarter/Courter.

Courter: A suitor; one who courts. Like The (Apparent) Big Floating Head who shows up with a body for the first time that we've seen-- in a suit-- and courts Aziraphale at Marguerite's... the same place where Crowley was trying to have a date with Aziraphale the day before. All of which was kicked into motion by The Metatron casting Gabriel down-- and taking from Gabriel his signature, much-beloved suit (and leaving him in his "birthday suit" as a result.)

Making Crowley an angel again would undermine the entire Heaven/Hell system. All the demons would want to challenge their own status because if Crowley could, why couldn't they? It would actually cause it all to collapse and there's no way The Metatron would ever allow that... which is a big clue that this ain't The Metatron:

Aziraphale's being courted by The Devil.

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. A quarter of an hour is, as we know, 15 minutes. (God also referred to "almost a quarter of an hour" earlier in her opening monologue in 1.01 before saying "unexpected quarter" later on during it, which I take as a suggestion to always look at the multiple meanings of words in the show.)

The unexpected quarter of an hour = The Final 15 of 2.06. Crowley & Aziraphale fade away from the final splitscreen during the credits at just about Minute 52, I believe. Fifteen minutes prior to that is the moment that Aziraphale leaves the bookshop with "The Metatron" aka Satan:

Help may come from an unexpected quarter...

The unexpected twist-- and realization-- for Aziraphale of: "We call it 'The Second Coming'."

Note also what we said about come meaning arrival earlier... If 2.01 started with an episode called "The Arrival" and featured Gabriel coming to and arriving at the bookshop, if what is said here is to be believed and there is a "Second Coming" that is coming... then someone is going to end up like 2.01 Gabriel.... only, 2.01 Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel when he was cast down, which is what kept him from being sent to Hell. Aziraphale has no such political power.

Help may (and Help may) come from an unexpected quarter:

God sent unexpected quarter Gabriel as help-- speaking through him to remind Aziraphale of Job and of when God said, in Bildad's summary: "Satan and his diabolical ministers may destroy everything Job owns, no questions asked. Hugs and kisses, God."

God wanted Aziraphale to remember when She let Satan take what supposedly belonged to Job and Sitis as a test and he and Crowley worked together to stop it. She wanted him to remember when he thought he'd fall for thwarting her but She couldn't have been prouder because Job and Sitis were not the only ones really being tested-- Crowley and Aziraphale were. They did the right thing and they protected each other and the innocents around them in the process. That is what they should have been doing in S2 in the present.

Aziraphale did not heed the warning, though, so God stood aside and let it be that Help may come from an unexpected quarter as a result...

A quarter = 1/4th. Aziraphale's four, interwoven rings in the magic shop in 1941 that take out the house of cards from the bottom, symbolizing he and Crowley and Gabriel and Beez, who are going to take out the Heaven/Hell system. A quarter of our Ineffable Quartet, then, is Crowley. He is the most unexpected quarter there is when it comes to Aziraphale falling to Hell and Hell comes for Aziraphale with Crowley's help but against his will:

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. The paralleling and foreshadowing of Crowley dragged to Hell in front of the Gabriel statue in 1827, leaving Aziraphale on his own for a time. Sets up the reverse of that at the end of 2.06.

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. A quarter is a coin, like the sixpence and the farthing were in 1941. In "a blink of an eye", only one of the coins remained-- the farthing had vanished. The farthing is decorated with a wren. The coin with the little bird on it is the one that disappears, foreshadowing "no nightingales."

In 1941, the coin trick led to the magic shop... which led to The Bullet Catch... which led to a different representative of Hell coming for Crowley and Aziraphale and arriving at a different door, after Aziraphale had persuaded Crowley to perform a different type of dance with him in public... Furfur at the dressing room door paralleling "The Metatron" at the bookshop door. Crowley sitting to the side both times; some confusion, at first, over who the visitor is...

...but help may come from an unexpected quarter and it did for Crowley in 1941 because Aziraphale actually is a pretty decent magician and he saved the photo from Furfur (and so saved both of them) the same way that he does his coin tricks.

From the line preceding 'help may come from an unexpected quarter': You may be vulnerable to stomach upsets today...

Vulnerable: In a position to be attacked or harmed. Now, split it up: Vul. Ner. Able. (or A Ble.) Also contains: Vu and Rab.

Vul (in Czech): Both an ox and an idiot. "You idiot! We could have been us." Aziraphale, you're being tempted for real by The Actual Devil this time...

Vu: French for "seen," as in deja vu, which means "already seen" and describes the feeling of having lived through the present once already before. No one is recognizing the being at the bookshop door for who he really is. Also, we've seen these conflicts before-- this is Aziraphale's same daily round of negative thought cycles. At the center of those thought cycles...

Rab: Homophone for Rabb: Term used in Arabic to refer to God as "lord" or "master." The Voice of God may be The Lord and Master of Language on Good Omens but She doesn't actually want anyone to live in her name. She's trying to get them all to go live like whales already.

Ble (in French): Wheat. It is, technically, a fruit that is cultivated as grain. In Hebrew, wheat is referred to as khitah, which is a pun on the word khet, which means sin. The wheat berry has the same fruit structure as an apple, which is one of the reasons why it has been theorized by some humans to be what it was that Adam and Eve ate in The Garden of Eden that led to their fall. Interesting that falling is being mentioned, no?

Ner (in Swedish): Down; headed in a downward direction. Well, that's a great sign... 😂

Ner (in Old Irish): A boar, which is a wild pig. See: Grice, mentioned by Muriel. (A separate meta on Grice is linked at bottom of this meta.) Boar is a homophone for Bore and Boor. Bore is the root word of bored, which is for one of the reasons Crowley said in 2.01 why Aziraphale might call him and is also a Crowley euphemism for horny (see: other meta linked at the bottom of this meta.) A boor is an insensitive person.

Able: To be capable-- to have the power, means, skills and opportunity to do something. Aziraphale is capable of being a boor and of being tempted and of sin and of heading in a downward direction. He is also Able: clever, intelligent, adept... which he will need to get out of the mess he's gotten himself into.

Also: Able: Evolved from the Latin words habere and habilis, meaning, respectively: to hold and handy. (See: below gif. TW for The Kiss TM)... and also: "What's that lovely human expression? Hold that thought!"

Stomach: Originated, in part, from the Greek stoma, meaning mouth. Yeah, 2.06 brought some mouth-related upset for Crowley and Aziraphale (and us lol)... just a bit...

Stomach upset/Upset stomach: Something which causes you to have trouble eating. An upset stomach is probably the best possible way to refer to a temporary Crowley & Aziraphale breakup since food = sex in Ineffable Husbands Speak. For more on that, see: er... honestly... most of my blog lol.

Upsets = Upsets. Some upsets over what's Up. Flip it around, though, and it's... Set Ups. Up = Heaven and it's all a Hellish set up. Aziraphale has been... what's that lovely American expression?

This upset is also a setup and a setup? Is a trap. The Hastur-Aziraphale paralleling doesn't end with their clothes/hair:

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. There are four locations present at the end of 2.06: The Elevator (in motion), Heaven, Earth, a and Hell. We've left Earth, gotten into the elevator, and the button pressed was Heaven, so... the unexpected quarter that may come in S3 is Hell.

But, also in S3...

Help may come from an unexpected quarter. Post-fly, there's two of them, so, unexpected quarter now = Ineffable Bureaucracy.

Grice meta:

Bored/Board meta:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #etymology #ineffable bureaucracy #the archangel fucking gabriel #lord beezlebub #ineffable wives #maggie good omens #nina good omens #the metatron #final fifteen #good omens final fifteen

[pennylanefics]

New Job - Jeremy Swayman

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing for hockey, so please be aware :) i am a baseball girlie through and through but thanks to tiktok i now have a new obsession and new crushes, which means new motivation to write :D

summary: refer to this request

word count: ~2.6k

A new city, a new team, and a new opportunity. It was all so exciting, but that also came with stepping out of your comfort zone.

With your new position as a photographer for the Boston Bruins, you were being introduced to everyone on the team, every manager, every coach, a ton of people. However, you were a very shy person, preferring to keep to yourself most of the time; it’s why photography was perfect for you.

But it was all part of the job, to get to know the people you are photographing and allow them to trust you and feel comfortable around you, enough for them to smile for the camera and not ignore you. And you would be absolutely crazy if you turned this offer down, sports photography is your dream, and to be able to live it every day was wonderful.

This whole process was a regular occurrence for you, as you had bounced around a few teams, so it was nothing out of the ordinary, but things felt different this time around. When it was time to finally meet the team before practice one day, you sat near the entrance where players come in, with the other photographer who was “training” you, in a sense, and showing you around the arena and such.

Everyone was very nice and friendly, asking where you came from, how long you’ve been doing this, getting to know you a little bit better, it was great. But when Jeremy Swayman walked in, everything lit up. He was on his own, a black backpack on his back, a beanie covering his hair, but he had a huge smile on his face.

“Hello, hello!!” He begins to walk you and Cindy, the other photographer by your side. “You must be new.” He stops in front of you and reaches his hand out.

“I’m (Y/N), I’m the new additional photographer for the team,” you introduce yourself, shaking his hand. Both of you pause as your hands meet, taking notice of how warm and soft his skin is, gazing into his eyes as you do.

“I’m Jeremy, it’s nice to meet you. So you’ll be the one following us around with a phone and asking us questions as we walk into practice?” He teases, nudging your arm gently, feeling comfortable doing so.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” you chuckle, looking down at your camera. “I’ll be the one up in the rafters taking aeiral shots and be on the sidelines during games,.” His eyes widen in surprise as you describe part of your duties.

“Are you serious? That’s sick.” Since no one else was coming in right now, you took a moment to show him some of your popular photos with other teams, one of which being a shot from above after the Florida Panthers beat the Carolina Hurricanes, sending them to the Stanley Cup, confetti falling all around the rink, the team crowding together to celebrate.

“Wait, I saw this photo! The NHL posted it in like a photo dump they did of that week’s games. This is yours?”

“Yeah, all mine,” your face heats up a little at how excited he is. There was no denying it, Jeremy is a very handsome man, and you had to admit, when you got into photographing hockey, he was one of the first players that you had a small crush on.

“Well, you’re incredibly talented,” he compliments, sending you a wink while beginning to walk away. “See you around, (Y/N)!” He threw up a piece sign and was off to the locker room to get ready for practice.

“Jeremy’s the sunshine of the team, literally,” Cindy finally says, the last few players finally coming through the doors, both of you pausing to snap some candids.

“He is?”

“He always has a smile on his face and is almost always in a good mood. So if you need cheering up, he’s the one to go to.”

“Isn’t that unprofessional, though?”

“Not here. I’ve been with this team for years, they do things a little differently. They enjoy getting to know the media and those that work around them, becoming work friends and such. But if that’s uncomfortable for you, feel free to tell them, or me. I’ll put a stop to it.”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s nice that they treat photographers and others not within the actual team like human beings,” a chuckle escapes you, deciding that keeping your mouth shut regarding how a team you previously worked for outside of the NHL was like.

Your first game went quite well, the Bruins ended up winning against the Colorado Avalanche, giving you the perfect opportunity to capture the iconic goalie hug between Jeremy and Linus. With your camera lined up, Jeremy comes into view and skates right to Linus, you snap photo after photo, not taking your finger off the shutter button.

After they skate off the ice, you smile to yourself, knowing you got some good ones. Finding Cindy in all the chaos of fans cheering and trying to leave, she guides you down the tunnel and back to the makeshift office that’s usually set up for the media.

She goes through all the steps of how to upload the photos for the editors, and even though all of it was pretty similar to other teams, it was nice having a refresher and getting to know their way of doing things. She describes the process of what is expected after games, setting everything up that you would need, and making sure you had everything and were ready to go for their next game in a couple days.

As time goes by, you start to get the hang of things with your new team. Everything was going smoother than you expected, you were quickly finding your place here, and it was all working out so well.

One night, after a rather tough loss to the Leafs, you sat in the media room, scrolling through the photos you took throughout the game, exhaustion setting in, the long day finally catching up with you. Suddenly, a soft knock sounds, your body turning around on instinct to find the source.

There stands Jeremy, a smile on his face, clean and dressed in his post-game clothes.

“How’d the photos come out?” 

He made a small habit of doing this. On his way out of the stadium after games, he would make a stop by your office, saying hi and asking if he could see some photos. You would always tell him that the raw photos aren’t going to be the best and there would be a ton to look through every time, but he didn’t care.

He claims to enjoy your company and the peace and quiet of the office after such intense games. But you were your normal self, not very talkative, doing your job as you would if he was not beside you, and oftentimes forgetting that he was even there.

“So, what’s your postgame routine? What do you like to do once you get home?” Jeremy asks as you pack your things up, carefully placing your camera in its protective bag. After shutting your laptop down, you slide it into the case, and then the case into your backpack.

“I sometimes get food on the way home, or I head straight home, shower, get ready for bed, and  then read or scroll on social media, depending on what I’m in the mood for,” you explain softly, gathering all of your things, wanting to head home.

“What kind of books do you like?” He was wanting to make conversation, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were far too burnt out from running around the arena, especially since you’ve been here since early in the morning.

“Mainly romance and fantasy,” you grin. Jeremy doesn’t seem deterred by your short response, but he can tell, just by your body language, that you’d like to get going.

“That’s a nice way to escape the world after days like this. Well, I’ll see you around, have a nice night,” he smiles and waves at you as he exits the room, leaving you on your own.

That’s how things continued for every game. You ended up telling Cindy one day, and she couldn’t help but laugh; since you were with the media team, you got to room together at hotels for away games. The team was in Seattle to play the Kraken, and since it was a late game, you didn’t need to be at the arena until closer to four.

That’s how the two of you ended up sharing experiences you’ve had with the team and specific players, and Cindy lands on none other than the brunette goalie.

“Sway has actually told me that he’s been sitting with you while you browse through the photos after games,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner. Your face heats up at her statement, and you hide your face in your hands.

“He, uh, he does. I told him it’s nothing special, but he insists it’s a nice way to decompress.”

“He told me that you’re quiet,” she says. You freeze and stare at her. Immediately, her eyes widen and she feels embarrassed. “Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean to make it sound like he said it in a bad way. But he…okay, don’t tell him I told you this, but he thinks it’s sweet. I promise. And, it is pretty cute.”

“What is?” You wonder. Your heart was racing with all of this, you didn’t think Jeremy thought of you in that way, but here you were.

“You know, the sunshine, golden retriever boyfriend and the black cat girlfriend. You’re grumpy, he’s sunshine.”

“I’m not grumpy,” you defend, crossing your arms. “Just…quiet.”

“Exactly. Jer really enjoys being with you, from what he’s told me. And he said you even let him edit some photos?” You chuckle softly and look down at your hands that relaxed in your lap.

“I let him edit some of him and Linus for fun. I didn’t send them off to the actual editors or social media team, I promise, it was a little-”

“I think you should,” she cuts you off, her eyes lighting up. “That would be such a neat idea, if we let the players edit photos of themselves and send them to the admins for their socials!” She starts going on and on about the idea and how it would be such a fun concept, if the players even want to participate.

“We’ll have to ask either during arrivals or on the plane tomorrow if they’d be up for it.”

She continues on, but your mind was on Jeremy, he thought you were charming and sweet, and that’s all you cared about.

After the game ends in another loss, right on time, Jeremy steps into your little makeshift office, and you were more than prepared for him this time.

“Am I allowed to see these shots tonight? Or should I wait until they��re posted in an article?” He wonders. You chuckle quietly and shake your head. He had mentioned to you the last time that he reads articles here and there just for the off chance that your photos are included. And you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your heart when he told you this.

“I got a pretty good one of you making a save in the first period,” you say, turning your laptop towards him to show him. His left leg was stretched out just as the puck makes contact with the padding, blocking it and shoving it away.

“Shit, who knew I’d look so good making saves,” he jokes, running a hand over his slightly damp hair, having showered already.

You laugh with him and turn the laptop back, remembering what you and Cindy talked about earlier in the day.

“I think I already know your answer for this, but Cindy and I were talking and she thinks it would be fun to get you and the guys to maybe edit some photos, like you did, but they would actually be posted. With credits for the editing, of course,” you tease. Just like Cindy, his eyes light up in amazement.

“Hell yes!” He immediately responds, scooting closer to you to look at any more photos he could edit. “Can I do like five? Because one was not enough, I wanna do more.” You can’t help but smile at his eagerness, allowing him to scroll through some of the better photos you’ve taken the past few games.

“You can do as many as you’d like but I can’t promise they’d all get posted. If you want to ask the guys if they’d be interested, I’ll have one person come in here after every game and edit, and then we’ll have a collection in a few weeks to post.”

“Uh, I think it would be a good idea, but…” he starts, but pauses his train of thought, his hand coming up to tug at his lip as he silently decides if he should continue.

“But…what?” You push, hoping he would just speak his mind.

“I like this being our thing,” he murmurs, shy, almost. He doesn’t meet your eyes, and this is a different side of Jeremy you haven’t seen before.

“What?” You are very lost with what he’s trying to say, but you give him time to explain himself.

“I like having this time with you, after games. It’s become a routine for me, something I look forward to, and I really love being in your presence, especially after tough games that end in losses. It’s like you reading fantasy books, it takes you out of reality, and for a time, I can forget that I took part in a loss for my team and take my mind away from it.”

“By looking at photos of said game?” You counteract. But Jeremy sees your point. How can he be taken away from a game his team lost when he’s actively looking at photos of them losing from the entire night?

“By…being around you,” he whispers, looking up at you. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire at this point. Was he being serious? “Spending time with you, everything else disappears. And I know that sounds cheesy and we don’t fully know each other aside from talking about your work and such, but, if you are up for it, I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

Now you were beyond confused, but thoroughly surprised in a good way. And by your reaction, or lack thereof, he must have assumed you weren’t interested, because he immediately deflects.

“Or, if you prefer we keep things professional, that’s totally okay. I understand you work for the team and it would complicate things, but-”

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Sway,” you reply, a small smile stretching on your face. He slowly grins and leans closer to you.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah. I think you’re a very wonderful guy and I’d love to get to know you outside of this…informal and professional setting, let’s put it that way,” you laugh, turning towards him to let him know you were serious.

“Good. Because I think you’re very cute and I need more than these after-game meetings,” he replies, a bright smile on his face as well.

“So are you going to be upset if I ask the other guys to come in here and do the same, to edit photos?” You wonder, your voice dripping with a teasing tone. Jeremy laughs softly and leans over and kisses your cheek.

“As long as none of the meetings end the way this one did tonight, I’ll be alright.”

#jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman imagines #jeremy swayman x reader #hockey fanfic #hockey #nhl fanfiction #jeremy swayman fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[algea]

Ghoul School (pt 2)

prompt: when you get out of the hospital, Lars has put it onto himself to take care of you until you're healed. I can confirm that there is a big chuck of text where you're really pissed off at him before he gets his shit together!

warnings: tbh i literally dont even know. umm yeah your shin is broken and you're concussed so. things may or may not get a little steamy...cussing duh

a/n: im super mega surprised all my Lars stuff has gotten popular; i think it’s very insanely unhealthy how much i love James Acaster.

~ there are a LOT of little secret references to James in here, comment what you picked out ;)

~ also this is probably longer than the first part idk, but its officially the longest post ive written @jesssuperwholock03

~requested by @thestralluvr

Lars visited you everyday. Every morning, every evening after work, sometimes even over his lunch breaks, like clockwork. You were beginning to think it was seriously unhealthy. You were lying in the hospital bed, 4 days after the incident, with your eyes closed. You heard a soft click of the door and you cracked your eyes slightly. You, being oh-so-surprised, were met with the tired face of your crush colleague and work partner. He wore his jumper tied around his waist, a dark colored button up adorning his body. His hair looked disheveled, which could only mean he had just finished a job. He looked so tired, more tired than you've ever seen him be. It was annoying, honestly. Annoying how attractive he was without even trying. 'Why can't I look like that' you thought to yourself, mentally frowning. You decided to acknowledge his presence, seeing how he took time, again, out of his day to come and visit you.

"Lars." You stated, turning your head look over at him. Lars froze, gazing down at your solemn face. You started to reach out to him, but thought otherwise and rested your hand back on the crisp sheets. You watched as he pushed his glasses up and pulled a chair to sit beside you. Lars rested his forearms on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped.

"I was told that you'll be able to get out of here today." He whispered, his tired eyes searching your face. He was desperate for you to come back, back to how things used to be, where he would tease you, and you would always find witty comeback. But he knew you couldn't, not for a while at least. Lars was so scared you weren't going to be able to work for Ghost Corps anymore, especially since the concussion you got really fucked up your head. Not to mention your shin, which was a huge impact on you.

Lars let out a shaky breath. He unclasped his hands and ran one through his hair. You reached out, more confidently this time, and rested your hand on his. He didn't move his hand; he was scared if you let go, you'd disappear.

"Lars." You said again, your face flashing with worry. Your other hand softly touched his chin, holding his face so delicately.

"I'm scared that you're not going to come back." Lars stated, grimacing at the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Why wouldn't I come back? What made you think this?" You asked, your eyebrows drawing together in a sad furrow.

"I want things to be the same, I don't want things to change." He whispered quietly, his eyes cast down.

"I think you and I both know that it won't be the same, neither of us want to admit it. Normally, you don't go around kissing people and pretend like you hate each other for the rest of your life." You explained, searching his eyes for an answer. His eyes glanced back at you as his cheeks burned with pink. You tipped his head to the side ever so slightly, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

"That's unfair, Lars. You can't expect me to leave you alone after that." You pleaded.

"Can we just drop it? It really doesn't fucking matter right now.” Lars snapped. You drew your hand away from his face, hurt flashing across your face.

“What I meant was that we should focus on getting you out of here.” He frantically explained. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away again. Lars had never felt an emotion like this. His ears were ringing and his brain was hazy. It could’ve only been described as embarrassment. He wouldn't cry, no, that's not what he wanted to do. He wanted to apologize over and over again until you'd forget he ever did anything or said anything.

“I think it's maybe time for you to go. When I get out, do me a favor and send Lucky and Pheebs to get me.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Lars sat there for a few moments, his jaw clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, to make you understand how he felt. Instead, he got up and, with a longing gaze down at you, left.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes, which you allowed to fall down your cheeks. If he wanted to play that dumbass game again, you could do it, just not like you used to. You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until he walked out of the door, not looking back. You slammed your hand down on the bed in a fit of rage, which turned into a soft cry. You wished that you could make better sense of it all, but your wishes never came true.

It was only 2 hours after that you were discharged. Lucky and Phoebe, just as you had requested, rushed in to see you as soon as they could.

"Y/N!" Phoebe exclaimed, running to you and giving you a big hug. You smiled and hugged her back, or at least as much as you could with your crutches. Lucky joined in on the hug before you parted and started making your way to the car.

"Everyone is so happy you're coming home! We've all been super worried." Phoebe smiled, giving you a big smile.

"I'm so happy I get to see you guys again, Pheebs." You grinned back, ruffling her hair. Your mind wandered to Lars as you crutched your way to the car.

"Has um..." You started, realizing that the words were harder to get out of your mouth than you thought.

"He's not here. I haven't seen him since we went out this morning." Lucky explained, catching on to what you were about to ask. You looked down and nodded. 'Of course, how could I be so goddamn stupid.' You thought. Phoebe helped you into the car while Lucky set your crutches next to you. Trevor was driving, which was a whole other risk to be taking.

"Since when did they let you drive?" You asked, grinning at Trevor.

"Since Lars bailed at the last minute. I'm a great driver, so I have no idea what you're even talking about." Trevor bragged. 'He bailed at last minute? He never does that...' You thought sadly. He could've just been working really hard on whatever science thing he was studying. You really didn't know, but it did cut a little.

You didn't know you were carsick until you let Trevor drive you home. You thought Lars was a bad driver, but you quickly realized that Trevor was on the list of 'Never-Ever Drive Me Again,' along with Gary and Ray. You made a mental note of that as you struggled to stand to get out of the car. Trevor quickly rushed to your side to help you, easily pulling you up. You casted your gaze up, which fell on the Firehouse. 'Oh good, he won't be here.' You thought, as a feeling of relief washed over you. You hobbled in next to Phoebe and Trevor with Lucky trailing in not far behind. Callie and Gary stood right after the door, waiting for your arrival. As soon as you entered the Firehouse they were by your side, giving you warm 'hello's' and 'I'm so happy you're back and ok.' You were quick to hug them, hoping to talk to them about your situation with Lars.

"Alright kiddos, time to let the adults talk." Gary clapped, shooing away the smaller kids.

"Hey but I'm not-!" Trevor started, but was dragged away by Lucky. You three sat down around a table. It was silent for a moment as you tried to say what was on your mind.

"Did he come see you?" Callie asked, leaning in close.

"He came and saw me everyday. Sometimes up to three times." You whispered, your hands clasped together. Callie and Gary looked at each other.

"But when he came and saw me this morning, he was different. He was super moody, and got upset when I tried to confront him about kissing me like you said for me to do. I don't know if he doesn't like confrontation or if he, yknow, might be seeing someone else." You went on, nervously biting your nails.

"Y/N, I seriously doubt that there's many women who actually like Lars, much less want to even date him." Gary said, using his left hand to talk. 'Is he right? But I'm sure women think Lars is attractive.' You thought, scrunching your eyebrows together.

"I'm pretty certain that you're like the only woman he's ever talked to in a romantic way, probably even the only woman he’s ever even talked to." Callie confirmed.

"Either way, he likes you. We all know that." Gary finished. You were really hoping he was right, otherwise you were a fool being played.

You chatted for a little while longer, mostly about anything and everything that came to mind. After a while, you told them that you were ready to head home.

"I'll drive you home." Callie said, standing up and grabbing the keys. The ride home was filled with you and Callie singing awful 80's songs, the vast majority of them by Tears for Fears. That was something that cleaned your soul and freed your mind a while. Callie helped you into your apartment before she left with a hug and a warm 'see you soon.' You were seriously hoping that your torture would end.

After a day, you got restless. So restless that you decided to go back to the lab and start working again. Yes, it was idiotically stupid. No, you weren't going to listen to anyone and take a break. Honestly it was going to happen anyways. You walked into the lab the first day, partially hoping that Lars was going to be there, but alas he wasn't. You felt disappointment but you were hopeful that you'd see him tomorrow. Except you didn't. More days past by and you hadn't seen any sign of Lars in the lab at all. You were starting to get more and more worried.

It had been more than a week and you hadn’t seen Lars since. Concern was growing and you were growing weary waiting for him to return. It was extremely hard taking care of yourself, especially since you had to trek a long ways to get yourself to your car outside of your apartment. Finally, you decided it was time to go see Lars. It pissed you off so much that you were running to him, instead of him coming to you. You knew his place, mostly because you, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lucky would sometimes prank him by doing something so absurd he would tremble with anger. That was back when you had your little schoolgirl crush on him, before you realized that you loved him.

You decided to walk, opting for the fact that he knows your car all too well. You weren’t even sure if he was there, you really didn’t even bother checking to see in your group FindMy. You didn’t even bother use your crutches because they were stupid anyways, you could walk just find even though you had a little limp. God you just wanted to fucking punch his stupidly handsome face. He made your blood boil so much.

You were only a few blocks from from his house when it started to rain. Not just a light rain, but a pour. You grew a little worried for your cast, but continued on. You were completely drenched by the time you were on his doorstep. Even worse, it was cold out. You stood on his doorstep for a minute before you started to knock on his door. You breathed out, seeing your own breath in the air. You were so cold. No one answered, which was pretty typical for Lars. He was probably standing in the kitchen, not going to open the door.

"Lars!!" You yelled, knocking on the door some more. Water dripped from your face and you shivered again. The door still didn't open. You sighed and started walking away, the pouring rain drenching you again. You started to tread back to your apartment when you heard a loud bang and turned your head. There Lars was, standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at you.

"Y/N!" Lars yelled back, meeting you in the rain. He craned his head to look down at you, his hands flying to meet your face.

"What are you doing here?" He said, his thumb swiping at your cheek.

"I came to see you. Where the fuck have you been, Lars Pinfield?!" You boomed, your right hand gripping the front of his shirt. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.

"I...I couldn't face you after that dumb shit I pulled. I wanted to apologize, really I did, but I couldn't bring myself to face you." Lars explained, his breath creating a misty cloud. All that either of you could do was stare at each other incredulously.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’ve wanted to see you all week, but your dumbass wouldn’t show up. Jesus Christ Lars, do you have any clue how much I’ve missed you? You’re so goddamn unfair you know that?!” You screamed, pounding on his chest. Lars’ hands moved from your face to your waist, holding you steady while you angrily punched him. He could only see you through his hair, which now stuck to his forehead, and his rain covered glasses which were fogging up. He was freezing, but all he could ever think about was you. How cold were you? Why would you sacrifice your time, hell, your health to come see him. He really couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would ever do that for someone. You would think with him being such a genius he would figure it out, however some people can be dense. But he realized that you were giving up all your time to invest in him. So, he decided that he needed to do the same.

"Do you think, maybe, that you'd want to spend the rest of your life, with me, maybe not just hating each other. And maybe not while hating each other, you'd like to be with me, y'know, for a long while?" Lars whispered, causing you to stop throwing punches. You looked up at him, in all his rain drenched glory. God, he looked so beautiful. You began to tremble, your hands lifting to capture his face with them. Lars breath quickened, his large hands gripping your waist. His hazy blue eyes captured yours, holding you in his everlasting gaze.

"Lars..." You murmured, swiping your thumb across his bottom lip. It was soft, softer than you thought it would've been. You found yourself daydreaming again about kissing him, though you'd never let him know how many times you've done it. You realized how close you were after you felt his breath against your cheek. You leaned in closer, pressing your chest against his. It was like something out of a movie, the way time stopped then. When your lips pressed against his, your body shuddered. It was like fireworks went off inside of you, making you all jittery and excited. Lars' hands slipped from your waist to your ass, softly gripping the flesh there. You slipped your fingers into his blond locks, tugging lightly. You heard a light groan rumble from his chest as he pressed into you further.

You weren't sure if the rain mixed with the cold had made you delirious, but after Lars had pulled away, it made him look even hotter. His tousled, wet hair, his lips that were red after the kiss, the ruby flush that adorned his cheeks and ears, and his half-lidded eyes made him even more beautiful. You found yourself feeling heat creep up through your neck to your cheeks as he stared down at you.

“Shit, right, you need to get inside, now.” Lars commanded, dragging you towards the door.

“Lars—!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as he basically picked you up. Your hands fly to grip the shirt on his back as you hoists you over his shoulder. He muttered a few things under his breath as he strolled to the door, obviously not caring that the rain was coming down harder. Lars opened the door, set you down, and shut the door with the heel of his shoe.

“Give me a second.” He commanded, leaving you standing in the foyer. You shivered and looked around, noticing some things that seemed quite out of place. Lars had multiple different band posters framed and hung up around the house, most of them signed. You could pick out a few like Pindrop, Temps, and the Timewasters. You also found multiple different movie titles like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and other things. ‘Interesting’ You thought as you took in your surroundings. Lars appeared again with a towel and some sort of clothes he had found for you to wear.

“If you fuck up my good clothes, I’m kicking your ass to the curb again.” Lars sighed, throwing the towel at you.

“Whatever, brainiac.” You bit back, trying to hold back your grin as you shoved past him. That earned a scoff and an eye roll from Lars.

“Washroom is down the right hall, second door to the left.” He called, peaking down at you as you went to change.

Lars had never had a girl in his house before. Other than the times his mother and sister had come over from Britain, obviously. His “outside” friends insisted that he bring a girl home, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to when he could only think of you. It made him a little giddy knowing that you were here with him. It was like a fever dream, if he woke up it all would be gone. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that there was a way to prove that this was real. Lars found himself wondering if you liked how his house was decorated, the clothes he brought you, even the way the house smelt. At the thought of these, he began to worry that you didn’t like it here. Those thoughts were denied when you waddled back from the bathroom, furiously rubbing at your hair to dry it. It was silly, really. Lars thought you looked a little too good in his clothes. His Temps T-shirt was too big for you, and his plaid pj pants were rolled a few times to even try and fit you.

“You look stupid in that.” Lars scoffed once more, looking anywhere but your face.

“Hey man, you picked this out. Don’t blame me for your shit style.” You tried back. A hint of a smile could be found dawning his face. You smirked and poked his cheek.

“Is that a smile I see? Is the Lars Pinfield smiling in my presence?” You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand to fake gasp.

“No, it isn’t.” He replied, the smile growing wider on his face.

“It so totally is!!! Lars Pinfield is literally smiling right in front of me!” You exclaimed. He shook his head.

“Shut up. Anyways, I’m getting changed, don’t fucking break anything.” Lars sighed, sliding past you.

“You can put on anything, just as long as it’s not some stupid BritCom.” He added, shutting the door to his room.

“Who even watches BritComs…” You muttered to yourself. Walking back into the main foyer, you sat down on the sofa, which was surprisingly nice compared to how you thought your scientist boyfriend colleague lived. You sat down and flicked through the channels, stopping on whatever stupid romcom movie was on. You sighed and put your chin in your hand, anticipating the snappy response of ‘this is the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen.’

“Hey.” You heard from above you. Looking up, you saw Lars resting his elbows on the top of the sofa next to you.

“Hi.” You peeped back. Secretly, you were gawking at him. Lars wore a pair of white sweatpants and a black shirt. You’ve never seen him in casual wear, but you were absolutely loving it right now. His glasses weren’t pushed up, loosely sitting below the bridge of his nose, and his hair was still damp. If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what was.

“What’re we watching?” He asked, glancing down at you. You shivered when his eyes locked on to yours.

“Some stupid romcom, you probably won’t like it anyways.” You answered.

“You’re right, I’ll probably think it’s super shitty, but I’ll watch it anyways.” He sighed, tipping his head towards you. You reached up and placed a kiss on his lips. Lars scrunched his eyebrows and sighed. After you pulled away, you patted the seat beside you, beckoning him to sit down. He all but scrambled to get next to you, plopping down with another big sigh.

“How’s your leg?” Lars asked once more, motioning to it with his eyes.

“It has definitely seen better days.” You replied earnestly. He nodded in sincerity, then turned his attention back to whatever you were watching. You looked over at him again before reaching over and slipping your hand into his. He didn't move, so you considered it a win. Taking matters into your hands again, you slid closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Lars' head rested on top of yours immediately and you smiled as he snuggled in closer. You could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, a citrusy, vanilla smell.

"You smell good." You muttered, looking up at him through your lashes. Lars didn't reply, but you could definitely imagine the look on his face. That little embarrassed smile with a scarlet blush dusting his cheeks. You found yourself becoming a little sleepy as you settled in. Blinking a few times, you tried to wake yourself up, but that only made you even more sleepy. Unintentionally, you started to fall asleep. As you drifted off to sleep, you could hear Lars mutter something to you, but you didn't respond.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, you had moved from the sofa, to Lars' bed. Now you only had 2 options as to how you got there. 1. You sleep walked to the bed and magically laid down, or 2. Lars had carried you there. You groaned and opened your eyes, lifting a hand to rub them. You blinked a couple times and sat up. No, Lars wasn't in here. So then, where was he? You slipped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, finding that he wasn't there either. A cup of coffee and some breakfast was left on the counter, along with a note saying,

'I'll be back later, got a couple things I need to work on at the lab. I left you some breakfast and I'm sure you can fend for yourself for lunch. Please don't burn the house down. - Lars' You smiled and picked up the coffee, finding that it was still steaming. You noticed that Lars had made the coffee the way you liked it, which meant he definitely paid attention whenever you ordered it.

After basically spending the whole day exploring Lars' house, you settled into the sofa once more with a random book you had picked out of his bookcase. Hearing keys jingle, you lifted your head from the book and saw Lars venture in. You slowly got up, minding both your head and leg, and made your way over to him.

"Hi handsome, how did work go?" You smiled at him, leaning against the doorway.

"It was...eventful. I got thrown up on by pukey." Lars sighed. You laughed and patted his shoulder.

"That was probably hilarious. I'll make dinner while you take a shower." You said, pushing him along to the bathroom.

"Mmmm, fine. But..." He started before he swooped down and kissed you. Your hand flew to his hair, giving it a nice tug. With that came a loud groan. Lars' gripped your waist and pushed you against the wall. His tongue swiped at your lips, which you gladly accepted. You snatched his glasses and tossed them away, squirming slightly as his nails dug your waist. When he pulled away he grinned,

"Looks like I'm not getting my shower in tonight."

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x you #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters x reader #james acaster #james acaster x reader

[alcazarofthestars]

Can you do Blue Lock Sae x female reader x Rin fluff? The brothers are fighting for her love.

Hehehehe.... I don't know why but I'm a sucker for these types of fics, especially since it's about my two favorite bllk boys. But anyways, sure anon! I desperately need to practice writing fluff since I haven't done any for a while now. And I realized how hard it is to make a banner on a laptop because I originally wanted them to be placed on different sides... TwT

English isn't my first language so there will be some problems with my grammar.

Warnings: Nothing really, just Rin and Sae fighting for the reader's attention behind her back. Reader is implied to be their childhood friend and a bit older than Rin. Reader will be referred to as [Name].

3rd person POV:

Today in the Itoshi household, there seems to be a little... problem...

"Just what do you think you're doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Spain or something." Rin spat as he glared at his older brother, Sae, who was sitting on the couch in front of him.

But to understand what is currently happening, let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Today is one of the few days where Rin could take a break from Blue Lock. Usually on days like these he would inform his dearest childhood friend (and crush), you, so the two of you can hang out before he returns to Blue Lock again. But unfortunately for Rin, there seems to be a change in his plans. And this rearrangement was caused by none other than his older brother Sae who just so happens to be on a break from his job.

And that leads us to where we are now. The two brothers are currently having an intense staring contests, the tension in the room is so thick that it could be cut in half using a knife. And to finish it all off, Mr and Mrs Itoshi are out of town on business so they couldn't separate the two away from each other.

It was at that moment that the person who would break the tension arrived, knocking on the door. "Hello? Rin, are you there?" The familiar voice of [Name] called, making both brothers freeze as they turn to look at the door. "I'm going to come in, alright?" She threatened as the door was slowly opening.

[Name] had just opened the door, but it seems like she hadn't realized that Sae was also there in the living room because she looked busy searching for something in the bag that she had brought along with her. "I know that you had just got back from Blue Lock and stuff, but I got you-?!" And that was her when she realized that Sae was there. "A-ah, it's nice to see you again, Sae." She greeted him, although a bit hesitant due to the fact that she wasn't expecting him to be in Japan right now.

Sae had now focused his attention on [Name], a small unnoticeable blush crept up on his face, as he just gave a small nod before looking away and focusing on the floor. Has it always been this clean and spotless?

A moment of peaceful (awkward) silence came after. "Hey Sae, we were about to watch a few movies together. Do you want to join us? It'll be just like what we used to do together when we were younger." As if sensing the tension, [Name] smiled as she tried to change the topic by inviting Sae to their little binge watching session. Much to Rin's dismay that was evident by the surprised look on his face. "Sure, I don't really have anything to do anyways." He responded although a bit blunt, he seemed rather excited when [Name] suggested that he joined them.

But this didn't escape Rin's sight. He isn't going to let his brother get in the way of his time with [Name], not on his watch.

If there's one thing that both brothers can remember well are all the moments that they had spent together with [Name]. But some of the most memorable has to be all the movie nights/sleepovers that they had together when they were younger. Though, most of the fun memories were made in the preparation for the movies, such as;

Making Homemade Snacks in the Kitchen

Usually before they'd start, they would prepare the snacks beforehand together. But Rin would rather not take any chances of his brother getting closer with his crush. So he had already prepared for this.

How you may ask? Well that's simple! He is way much better at cooking than Sae, he's been training for this moment since that one time you got bedridden due to a fever in middle school. So he will definitely impress you with his cooking skills!

So when you asked for them to help in preparing some snacks, he was more than confident in his skills.

He did not expect this to happen. Someone please explain to him why on earth his brother is getting all of [Name]'s attention while he just watches on the sidelines as he continues to peel the skin of potatoes in his own silent anger.

He swears that Sae is doing it on purpose too! I mean, just look at how whenever you weren't looking he would give a small but sly smirk to his younger brother before asking how to continue doing the next step in the cooking book. Sae doesn't even need help with most of the steps! Like come on, was he born yesterday or something cause he's acting like he doesn't know how to use a blender or cut some tofu.

Rin doesn't know why but he feels jealous whenever you would get close to his brother to show him how to do something or how you would put your hand on Sae's to guide him whenever he was cutting something. At this point, Rin is practically seething in jealousy. So much so that he didn't notice when he accidentally cut his finger a bit.

Sae may have won the kitchen battle, but he will not win the movie war.

Scores:

Rin: 0 Sae: 1

2. Preparing a Comfortable Spot to Watch

This is a tradition that would make their parents angry, you see, as kids both brothers would love to make a pillow fort together while you were busy usually with making the drinks. But sometimes, they tend to forget about it and their parents would scold them about returning things back to where it originally was.

Truthfully, Sae had forgotten about this little tradition. He doesn't really have any time for watching movies, and if he did it was either at a cinema with his teammates or on his couch in his house in Spain.

So during the time [Name] was preparing the drinks, Sae was just scrolling on his phone because he had gotten a lot of calls and texts from Shidou who somehow has his phone number now so Sae was trying to block him only for Shidou to use another number, but while this was happening Rin was turning the living room into a literal pillow haven. Most of the room was filled with pillows, blankets, and plushies (You gave one to each of them for their birthday and it's been well taken care of).

Rin wonders how Sae will react once he finds out that he was the culprit who gave Shidou his number. When Sae realized what Rin was doing (Sae made Shidou snitch on Rin), it was far too late. You already finished making the drinks and Rin had already picked out a movie.

Perhaps Sae was feeling a bit tired because he swears that he had seen Rin smirking at him as you compliment Rin. Yeah, he was definitely drowsy cause there is no way that he's losing against his brother out of all people, and even worse is that he's taking all of your attention.

No, he is not jealous.

He is definitely not jealous. Why would he be? He is way much better than Rin, so why would he be jealous? So what if Rin got a kiss on his cheek as a reward? when it comes to you; he won't lose to anyone, especially Rin.

If Rin wants to challenge him then he should know that Sae won't back down that easily.

Scores:

Rin: 1 Sae: 1

3. Movies!

When the three of you were still little kids you had a bedtime, but since you're now older you can stay up as long as you want. And back then there was a very limited amount of movies that you were allowed to watch since you were still young, but now you can watch anything you want although there is still some that you'd rather stay away from.

There are a large number of movies that the TV could offer, you were no longer confined to watching movies rated for kids so there wasn't much trouble with picking what to watch.

The problem is the two Itoshi brothers, you were aware of what had happened between them and the fact that their relationship isn't really the best. But this is too much! They've been glaring at each other since you came in. The tension feels almost suffocating, no scratch that- it is suffocating.

"How about we watch this one?" You asked as you had just picked a random movie, the two only nodded their heads as you started the movie.

Oh God that sure was a mistake.

Of all the movie options available you just had to pick out a horror movie, huh? Well, can't really back down now.

So this leads you to where you are right now, sitting in between Sae and Rin as you hold on tightly to Sae's hand after he offered it to you seeing how much you were sweating as Rin just rolled his eyes in jealousy. But the thing that you don't know is that Sae is afraid as well.

There was a scene halfway in the movie where the suspense was incredibly high when suddenly a jump scare appeared causing both you and Sae to scream as you hugged Rin's arm tightly for the rest of the movie.

The two brothers seemed sleepy when the movie had ended. You had excused yourself to use the washroom and placed a pillow in your stead. but when you got back there was a surprise waiting for you. Both Sae and Rin had fallen asleep leaning on the pillow that you placed in your stead.

Final Score:

Rin: 1.5 Sae: 1.5 [Name]: 2

Mission make the Itoshi brothers bond together has somehow failed successfully, but you aren't really complaining.

#bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #x reader #fluff #bllk fluff #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #bllk sae #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #bllk rin #rin x reader #sae x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #fluff imagine #The rare moments where I don't do yandere #i need sleep #its like 12pm

[matthewsgreybubbles]

My favourite thing about MGG is his smile and sense of humour like.. that man has done more for my mental wellbeing than myself. Like if I’m feeling a little down, I’ll watch something of his or in random parts of the day I quote him.

My favourite ones are “do you ever get a little blue” god, I love these videos so much haha. It’s a shame that I got to this fandom so late if you understand me like I missed so much MGG from 2017 and onwards.

But yes, back to the first point. His smile is like E V E R Y T H I N G, you get his smile and then you get his big smile where his eyes just become brown orbs. Also, I love expressive people too, bc they are amazing to draw as well! MGG has such a large collection of expressive photos to use as reference. I’m hoping to find some and get to drawing him soon!

Okay my rumble is over now. Any thoughts too?

The other day I was talking with one of my best friends about MGG and I told her "I love him because every time I see him I want to smile."

Is that weird?

Probably-

But the truth is that there is something so endearing about MGG's way of being that just makes me happy.

His smile is so honest that my heart just goes "OPJKFDBHGFIJDSOQKXDCJVFHGIJEOKLQSKX?DJCNVBHFGIJEZKSQL?XDJCHBV", <- that's the closest to what is going on in my brain too.

It's weird but his whole being is just so soothing.

I've been in the Criminal Minds fandom for a long while now, without being really active, but I was there. MGG tho? I never looked into him more than for Reid until recently and I was just amazed. I wished I looked into it before because it's so sweet here and he is fabulous.

(and since I understood he dated Kat Dennings I just wished I was invested during that time because they were the ABSOLUTE COUPLE? Man for real- they would have been my couple's goal when I was a teen, that's for sure. They still are, even though she's married lmao. I'm sad I didn't look into him more at that time because I knew they were dating, I just didn't know him more than that :c )

Anyway, I am now the one who rambles a lot, sorry-

PS: Matthew must be so pretty to draw, that smile must be amazing to replicate;

#my sweet anons #the thing I like the most about MGG #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #criminal minds #kat dennings

[freak-accident419]

That’s A Wrap

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Derek are pornstars. Filming your next video, things start to go wrong and you two just end up messing around and having a laugh together. However, as your laughs diminishes, things begin to become increasingly intimate between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, pornstar!derek danforth, pornstar!reader, pornography/filming, messing around/joking about dicks, movie references, humor, hand/blowjob, oral (m and reader receiving), unprotected (comtrary to the title lmao) penetration (no specified genitals for reader), creampie, lovemaking afterward, Heelys (thank you @laurrrelise <3 ily), porn with plot except the plot is porn, slightly ooc derek, slight fluff

-

“Here, set the tripod—”

“Hold on, it’s—wait—”

“No, just—wait, let me do it—”

After an excruciatingly long while, you and Derek were finally able to correct the camera’s position on the tripod, obtaining the perfect view of the bed.

Being pretty well-known pornstars for your acclaimed couple sex filmography, you and Derek have made easy money through this collaborative career. You have had several subscribers, views, and positive ratings ever since you first started (which was probably around two years ago). The fact that you were a real couple and had a fair amount of authentic, raw, and innovative videos made your channels gain much traction and praise.

The two of you were already fully undressed on the bed in front of the camera. You reached over and clicked the button to start recording. Derek laid on his back collectedly and you went down between his legs, your face in front of his cock.

“You ready?” You giggle slightly before wrapping your hand gently around his dick, moving it up and down along his shaft. He already nodded, which gave you the cue to put your mouth around him, sucking his head as your hand moved. But then—

Huh.

You suddenly pulled your mouth off with a ‘pop’ and groaned impatiently.

“What is it?” Derek asked, looking down at you.

“There was—fuck—there’s a hair in my mouth,” you say, struggling to get it out. “Fuck.”

After a while, you finally removed it from your tongue with your fingers and rolled your eyes, pumping him once again with your hand. “It’s out?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s out,” you answer with a faint chuckle, continuing to stroke him with one hand while the other tucked some strands of hair behind your ears. Then your hand finally pulled away from his dick, making you notice something dire. “Dude! You’re soft!”

He just looked at you quietly, but you could see some smugness, or at least amusement in his face.

“You’ve been soft the whole time and you knew we were gonna film? C’mon, man!” You complain with a light chuckle, starting your hand movements along his shaft again.

“Just hold on, it’s the dick, not me!” He protested.

“Oh, my god,” you mumble under your breath. “‘Ello?” You shouted frustratedly at his dick, slapping his thigh lightly, “zhis is your wake up call!” Your delivery was in a mocking French accent, making you laugh hysterically, resting your head on his thigh. Derek would usually get hard immediately, especially on occasions where he’d hear your adorable laughter, but for some reason, today in particular, it’s taking him a while.

In response to your allusion, he met you with silence, looking at you with confusion, yet also with a growing smile.

“C’mon! The Swan Princess?” You gasp in disbelief at the thought of him not being familiar with the movie you had referenced earlier. “1994?” You sang in a high-pitched mocking tone, “‘Derek, you and I, were meant tooo beeee…’ Even one of the character’s name is fucking Derek! No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“I have never heard of that movie in my lif—”

You gasp loudly again, slapping his thigh playfully. “You uncultured bitch! That movie was, like, my childhood! Derek, you are aware that I can easily just, like, rip off your dick right now, right? Like,” you made a gesture with your fist, jerking it out to mock the action. “Pow!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just didn’t watch that kind of shit when I was a kid,” he reasons, fucking giggling at your hostility.

“Oh, okay, so—so what I’m hearing is—you didn’t have a normal childhood,” you retort with raised, knowing brow.

“What? Of course I had a normal childhood!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Right, right, but you probably got picked up from school in a goddamn helicopter, you fuckin’ nepo baby,” you teased with a faint smirk.

“Hey, I did not—” Derek cut himself off, “It was one time, and in my defense, it was an emergency,” he mumbled.

“What was the emergency, you wet your pants?” you giggle, lightly slapping his thigh again and getting a playful groan out of him. “Fuck, why is your dick still down? C’mon, man! Rise! Rise, my glorious creation, rise!” You cackled, laughing as your hand still gripped his cock, your head resting on his thigh, trying to sustain your laughter.

“Was that fucking Megamind?” Derek gaped as you accidentally drooled on his thigh from laughing too much.

“Oh, so you do have a little culture in you.” You bring your head up, wiping your mouth and grinned at him, starting your strokes once again. “Okay, okay. No more bullshit, let’s—let’s film this thing.” You pause frustratedly as you watched your hand move up and down his cock. “If only you could get hard, fuck! ¡Levántate, chorizo! Fuck!” You cackle, eyeing the camera, then looking back at Derek.

“Testing, testing, one, two, three, is this thing on?” You say ‘into’ the head of his cock as if it was a microphone, even tapping it lightly with your fingers. His dick was still limp in your hand, even though Derek couldn’t help but be turned on by your playfulness. “What do you call a cheap circumcision?”

You wait for comedic pause.

“A rip off.”

There was a slight pause before the two of you burst out laughing, Derek laughing at your stupid joke as he stroked your hair with his hand. “Oh my fucking god, Y/n,” he huffed, yet couldn’t help but smile. “You are fucking impossible, you know that?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll start, I’ll start,” you giggle. “I’ll be serious this time! You’re not, like, turned off or anything, are you?”

“No. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to turn me off,” he recalls with a soft chuckle, slightly caressing your hair.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I think I’ve become desensitized to your antics ever since the fruit roll-up incident.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh, letting your head flop down on his thigh, trying your absolute best to withhold it, yet of course, failing. “Okay, okay! Serious, I’ll be serious now.”

You begin to press gentle kisses to the soft, pink head of his cock, moving your hand slowly along up shaft. Then you kissed at his thighs as well, slightly removing your hand off his cock to leave small kisses up his length, tickling his faint veins with the tip of your tongue. You heard soft, quiet moans escape his lips as you did so, chuckling to yourself as you continued. Leaving more kisses, you lapped your tongue at his frenulum, gaining a louder noise from him. You chuckled to yourself as you saw him finally get fully hard.

“Fina-fucking-lly, thank god,” you huff in relief. “Holy shit, you’re hard as a fucking rock” you add, stroking him faster in your palm, sucking onto his head again before pulling away and switching positions, laying down on your back.

“We’re gonna have to crop out so much shit from this video, fuck,” he chuckles softly as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Hey, no, you can keep stuff in, our fans love whenever we joke around with each other!” You exclaim giddily as Derek rolls his eyes from amusement. “Hey, we should just, like, make a compilation of our outtakes, like—like a blooper reel!”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as his hands were placed on your thighs, lightly stroking them and spreading them apart in the process. “Bloopers?”

“Yeah, man! People love that shit. You know how when people cum after watching porn and they just feel, like, really dirty and the existential crisis just comes in, like—if there are bloopers at the end of the video, they’ll have something to laugh at, you know? Make us seem more human and therefore, make them feel human again after feeling like creeps,” you explain, surprisingly intricately, as you look up at Derek with an ecstatic grin.

“Okay, you do have a point, maybe you’re onto something,” he smiles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Ready, baby?” It was a husky, low mutter, immediately turning you on.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, letting out a soft gasp as you feel his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down your hole, each time threatening to penetrate it. Your eyes moved to the camera lens with a desperate look on your face, patient, yet seductive, low whines escaping your lips.

One of Derek’s hands were holding onto the leg on his shoulder, and the other one gripped on your own shoulder, slowly pushing his cock in through your entrance, getting a soft moan out from the two of you. He began thrusting slowly, emitting occasional wet squelches before he starts to move his hips faster on yours, filling the room with echoed slaps against skin.

You let out loud, high-pitched, pornographic moans that were, of course, exaggerated for the video as you looked into the camera, then back up into Derek’s eyes. While you didn’t have to fake anything for the most part, the porn industry and algorithms were a bit complicated, so to appeal to a wider audience, things had to be a little more exaggerated and ‘sexier’.

Yet, not even after a split second, you burst out laughing which made Derek cease his thrusts, looking at you with utter confusion.

“Y/n, what—”

“I’m sorry, Derek, I can’t take shit seriously today!” You exclaim, cackling loudly in the room as he pulls out of you, laying your leg back down.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he grumbles, except there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “You are—You are fucking ridiculous,” Derek claims as he slaps your thigh playfully. But then he leaned in, kissing your lips softly, trailing them down to your neck and nibbling certain, ticklish areas that got a quiet moan out of you. “You gonna behave now, darling?”

It was difficult to suppress your giggles. “No, probably not,” you answer, cackling. Holy shit, it was like you were on fucking laughing gas.

“Oh my fucking god!” He complains with a slight grin on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you right now, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed apologetically, yet laughing at the same time. “I can’t, I can’t! Okay, okay, fuck, let’s do this, I’ll comply—I’ll comply!”

“Fucking shit,” he mutters, continuing to press soft kisses up your neck and collarbone. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he jokes, and before you could say anything, his lips silenced yours in a passionate, soft kiss. You hum pleasantly in the kiss, feeling his gentle lips moving with yours, his tongue parting them to explore and taste your mouth. You tangle his hair in your fingers when you place your hands behind his head, feeling his own hands grip your waist.

Then his lips finally parted from yours, peppering butterfly kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your chest, all the way down to your groin. Derek gently spread out your thighs, his fingernails digging lightly in the plush skin. He looked up at you and grinned to himself, finally lapping his tongue at your sensitive areas. You begin to moan in response, feeling the pleasure that your partner offered.

“So fucking beautiful, baby,” he muttered under his breath as he continued with his tongue, kissing at the area as well. “So damn frustrating ‘n annoying, but so fucking gorgeous, fuck…”

“O-oh, fuck… f-fuck, Derek, ah…” you whimper quietly as he continued with his intricate tongue.

Derek then pulled his mouth away, hovering above you, grabbing your legs gently to guide them around his hips. Leaning down to kiss your forehead and your lips, he finally and slowly pushed his hard cock through your tight, desperate entrance, beginning to moan as you feel his girth stretch your sensitive, fleshy walls, pushing further and further inside of you. He was being very gentle as well, pressing his lips onto yours as his hips were touching yours, then finally thrusted out slowly. “G—Oh, god,” you pant.

His hips then pushed back in until he thrusted at a steady pace, letting out quiet grunts as your own sounds increased. Your legs tightened around his hips as he gripped harsher on your thighs, gradually increasing his speed. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, rocking his hips into yours, “you’re doing so good for me.”

At this point, you forgot that there was a camera beside you.

It happens all the time, you forgetting, because you’re so wrapped up in the sex you were having with your partner, of course. But for some reason, this felt a bit different. It felt more intimate.

You were panting, letting out silent whines and occasional moans as he moved inside of you, pleasuring you with his cock. Then suddenly, with one hand, he reached down and touched you, holding onto your thighs tightly to thrust into you while pleasuring another sensitive area of yours with his fingers.

“F-fuck!” You whine as your breathing quickens, beginning to moan more prominently.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, crying around my fucking cock,” he grunts, his pace increasing as you feel his speed stimulating your walls. “Fuck, you’re so amazing. So fucking tight. Feels so good around me.”

“O-oh, god!” You exclaim before you start to moan more frequently and loudly, your sounds echoing in the room as Derek goes deeper and faster inside of you. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the atmosphere, accompanied by increasing wet squelches and moans from Derek now as well. His balls slapped against the bottom of your ass every time he thrusted in, every sensation encouraging Derek to go even faster.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer with every harsh thrust. He then hooked his arms under yours, gripping onto your shoulders from the back, bringing his body closer to yours to kiss your neck, essentially tackling it with his tongue. You brought your hands up to his back, digging your fingernails in his skin and moaning softly and passionately, hearing his voice falter as well.

“I’m cumming!” You whine, breathing and moaning heavily, clenching around him. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck!” He groans, continuing to push you to the edge with his cock, driving you closer and closer to your sweet orgasm. “That’s it, baby, cum for me, sweetheart, f-fuck—”

Your hips move quickly together, causing friction against your pelvis as Derek attempted to keep thrusting at a deeper and faster pace. And with one final buck of his hips, your body stiffened and—

“A-ahhhhh!” You moaned exuberantly, releasing from the ecstatic sensations, your hips against his slightly twitching, as well as your thighs. “F-fuck, Derek, a-ahh!”

“F-fuck—” Derek groaned as he thrusted a few more times before cumming deeply inside of you, spurts of his warm, white semen spilling into and painting your walls. “G-god, Y/n, ah-ahhh—fuck!” He moans as his body became stiff after making sure he was essentially balls deep inside before collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily.

You panted, letting out a few small whimpers after coming down from your high, until you felt Derek’s hands begin to caress your face and play with a piece of your hair between your fingers in loving curiosity. Then he pulls his cock out of you, leaving kisses at your neck, chest, then stomach as he moved his body down between your legs. He watched his cum slowly and satisfyingly gush out of your hole, letting out an instinctive moan, pecking your thigh with his lips. Then he slipped in his middle and ring finger through your seeping entrance, pushing his ejaculate deeply back inside of you, increasing your heavy breaths and remaining, quiet whines. After he was satisfied, Derek pressed an innocent kiss to your most sensitive spot then sucked his fingers clean before moving back up to meet your eyes, kissing your lips passionately and sweetly, legs tangling together.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you again affectionately, touching your sides with his soft, gentle palms.

“I love you too,” you muttered with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back giddily.

You laid there together for a while, Derek’s head nuzzling your neck. You were still fairly tired in the aftermath of your orgasm, breathing heavily and panting together as you start to acknowledge the smell of sex filling the atmosphere. Then you looked to your right and chuckled softly under your breath.

“Camera’s still rolling,” you say quietly with a raised eyebrow as Derek moves his head out of your neck.

“Oh shit,” he says, leaving your body for a split second to press the button on the camera across the bed. You giggled as you watched him do this, laying on top of you right after.

“We’ll, uh, schedule its upload on Saturday,” he says, kissing your cheek then placing his head back in your neck. He was truly infatuated with you.

“I totally forgot we were even filming a porno,” you scoff playfully as you rubbed his back and occasionally played with his soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes, caressing your skin once more. “Yeah, actually. You know, it almost feels—”

“Too personal, yeah,” you say, finishing his sentence. The two of you reflected the past moment and thought about every aspect of it. How you started off making several jokes, laughing together, before ultimately making sweet love. And while you’ve mostly always did couple lovemaking pornos for your content, this one in particular felt almost too personal. Like, you’ve posted mostly all of the things you two filmed together, and to have something so intimate and so pure on camera… you wanted to keep it to yourself.

He pops his head up from your neck and looks at you curiously. “You don’t wanna post it, huh?”

He knew you too well.

“Well, you know. It was very… intimate. Like, too intimate and too personal, I kinda wanna… I don’t know… Keep it to ourselves. Like, the public already has enough of our sex tapes, I kinda just want something of our own together, you know?” You explain, watching his gentle, hazel eyes as he processed your words.

“Yeah, no, definitely, I agree, baby,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then began to pepper some kisses on your neck. “It was way too… authentic. And, like, we post the most authentic shit,” he chuckles. “You’re right, we should just keep this for ourselves. We could probably just post a blooper compilation in the meantime.”

“Oh my god, seriously? You’re gonna do my idea?” You beam, gaining a snicker from Derek’s throat.

“Hey, I thought about it, it’s a great idea. The perverts don’t have to feel too much of a pervert when they see us just fucking around, being human,” he giggles as you felt your neck tickle from the relentlessness of his tongue.

His phone on the nightstand buzzed, making him groan slightly and reach for it, looking at his notification.

“Fuck,” he says.

“What?”

“Fuck!”

You were confused. “D—”

“I have a meeting to go to, fuck,” he answered, kissing your lips quickly, getting off of you as he tried to retrieve his clothes.

“What the fuck, Derek, I thought you said your schedule was clear this whole day,” you frown, sitting up slightly against the bed frame as you watched him put his clothes back on.

“Well, turns out that was tomorrow. I have a fuckin’ meeting with these, like, international dudes, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Derek mumbles, buttoning up his shirt, then reaching down on the ground for his shoes. “I’m sorry, baby. I really wanted to lay with you the whole day,” he apologizes with a shameful sigh.

“It’s okay, baby. We could always—”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are those fucking Heelys?”

Watching him glide to the desk to retrieve his wristwatch made you physically cringe, looking at him in disbelief with an open mouth.

He looked at you curiously while putting on his watch. “Uh, yeah, they are, why?”

You stifle your laughs. “Oh my fucking god, you’re ridiculous, babe.”

“What? What’s wrong with Heelys?”

“Nothing. Everything,” you reply, snickers beginning to leave your lips. “It’s just… You just made love to me, came balls deep inside of me on camera, and now you’re just—gliding around the room with fucking Heelys, holy shit.”

He pursed his lips then nodded with a slight, knowing smirk. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You are ridiculous!” You exclaim amusedly. With his Heelys, he rolled towards you, and you began to giggle and laugh after he pulled the sheets off of your torso, covering your belly in several, ticklish kisses. “Fuck, stop that!” You cackle, squirming around and trying to push him away.

You two share one more long, passionate kiss on the lips as he smiles at you, walking towards the door afterwards. “See you when I get back, baby,” he chuckles with giddy after seeing your adorable state.

“Mm, don’t party too hard,” you joke with a smirk.

“Oh, please, the closest thing to a party that those old fucks have to offer is their shitty ass wine,” he scoffs with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Don’t be long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And hey, maybe we could try to film another one?” He raises an eyebrow once he opens the door, still looking back at you.

“Deal,” you grin. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

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