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themuse-if · 4 months

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DEMO (TBA) | Cast Profiles | Cast Interviews

The Muse is a 18+ slice of life interactive fiction novel set at NYU focusing mostly on the art departments in the Steinhardt and Tisch schools. Inspired by my love for shows and movies like Felicity, Fame (the show), Skins UK, and Center Stage. This will not be an accurate depiction of school life at NYU, I'll be taking lots of creative liberties.

Content Warnings: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence, mention of SA

You come from a family of artists and art lovers. Your mother is a passionate curator for a small gallery in the city and your father is a sculptor and painter with a very dedicated cult following. They met when they were just starting out and have built a lovely life for themselves and their two children, you and your older brother Cameron.

Your parents have always been super supportive of you and your brother’s dreams and ambitions. They were a great source of encouragement and guidance for your brother on his path to discovering his goal to become a game designer and you on your path to become whatever you choose.

Growing up surrounded by such creativity just so happened to inspired you to want to create something of your own.

Now that you’ve graduated high school it’s time for you to head off to university! You’ve decided to leave the mid sized city that you call your hometown, and go to the big city NYC! You’ll be attending NYU more specifically, but you won’t be making this move alone you’ll be attending with your best friend Maxine!

What will you discover in your university life?

Will you solely focus on schoolwork or wind up in the raging party scene?

Will you explore new creative endeavors or solely focus on honing your craft?

With so much going on will you even have the time to possibly find your muse, or maybe even become someone else’s?

Design your mc from clothing style to physical appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

Choose 1 of 9 majors that grant you different classes with new students and professors: (Studio Arts, Dance, Drama, Photography and Imaging, Jazz Studies, Songwriting, Recorded Music, Collaborative Arts, Dramatic Writing )

Curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the drama and excitement university life has to offer. Style your MC’s dorm room and their aesthetic style.

Navigate the cliques and scenes to figure out where your MC fits in. Maybe you're a social butterfly and you just float from one social group to another!

Engage in a romance with 1 of 10 characters. 5 female/male gender selectable and 5 gender set characters. And 2 poly routes one with The Rebel Rejects and on with The Exes.

Choose one of three part time jobs to give you a little extra spending money for things like spring break and birthday gifts for your new friends.

Follow The Muse through your MC’s freshman and sophomore years. Junior and senior year will come much later in Book Two of The Muse. The third and final book in The Muse series will cover the start of MC's new life after graduation.

Roxanne/Robbie Sawyer: (f/m) The lead singer and guitarist of The Rebel Rejects. Ro is everything you would want in a lead singer cool, charismatic, and super talented. Don’t let their dazzling aura intimidate you though because though they may have a raging wild side they can also be extremely down to earth.

Joleen/Johnny Nielsen: (f/m) The drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo is the oddball of the band with a sunny exterior and twisted flower child past. They may be a sweet boho bimbo with a heart of gold, but there’s a lot more that lies behind those blue green eyes.

Delphine/Desmond Hartley: (f/m) The bassist for The Rebel Rejects. De is the super glue propelling the group forward. With high expectations from her parent, and dreams that soar even higher, success is the only option.

Rina/Ren Fukushi: (f/m) R is the best ballet dancer in this incoming freshman class, and no one would ever think to say otherwise. They’re cold and closed off, if it isn’t about ballet then they don’t want to hear it.

Everly/Everett Thompson: (f/m) Eve is a triple threat. Singing, dancing, acting they can do it all. They hope to complete their EGOT before they turn 40.

Karla Reyes: (she/her) Karla is a sophomore at NYU studying Studio Arts. Their favorite medium is watercolor on canvas. They’ve dabbled with sculpting and ceramics...until they broke up with their ex, Faye, and can’t stand to be in the same studio with them.

Faye Winters: (she/they) Fae is every bit the ethereal being they seem to be, and just as flighty. She is a sophomore majoring in dance with a minor in studio arts. She has this effortless charm and beauty that extends to her art whether its her dancing or her sculptures.

Sebastien Auclair: (he/him) Sebastien is in his third year of university, he’s an exchange student from the Paris College of Art. He is studying photography and imaging. Sebastian loves Paris, but he is excited for this change of scenery.

Maxine Matthews: (she/her)Max is your best friend in the world! Your parents are friends so you were destined to best pals since birth, thank god you actually like each other or all those shared family functions would have been really awkward. Max is funny and always has great commentary for every show or movie that you watch together. Which is why you weren’t surprised when they decided to major in dramatic writing. Some people think that you’re too close. They wonder how is it possible that you could be just friends.

Silas Walker: (he/him) Silas is your RA. As your Resident Advisor he's super helpful and friendly. You have question about the best study spots, bad professors, how to use the subway, well he's got answers. He keeps all his advisees at arms length because everyone knows RAs can't canoodle with their advisees. And that just makes it all the more enticing.

#interactive fiction #dashingdon #twine if #twine interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive if #choice of games #choice script #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #twine game #twine story #if: intro #if: themuse #interact if #interact-if #if wip

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monzamash · 7 months

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tears and scraped knees — daniel ricciardo

fatherhood is about learning the art of letting go. dad!daniel ricciardo x you | 2k warnings – cute shit, mentions of injuries and swearing. masterlist

She was the light of his life the moment she entered it, screaming the house down and crying her lungs out. Pure love personified. She was the apple of his eye, the most precious gift he had ever been given and simultaneously the reason for the grey hair speckling his dark curls; the ones identical to hers. Like him, she was a firecracker, the joker, and the life of the party everywhere she went; smile bright, eyes warm. A rich chestnut brown, flecked with yellow, charming and stunning just like his.

To Daniel, she was your little twin. Your beauty was reflected in her in different ways – in her long locks and dark sense of humour, her tenacity and moral compass. She was strong like you, stoic in her beliefs and confident in her skin.

Smart, magnetic, a bit book-ish like you.

Sporty, energetic and kind like him.

Looking at your daughter was a daily reminder that he was half him and half you – a beautiful symbol of your love, your miracle.

“How ya doin’ back there kiddo?”

“Fine,” She mumbled under her breath, eyes focused on the perfect distraction from the morning ahead – her phone.

You and Daniel shared a knowing glance; traffic building at the lights as you waited for the signal. There was no doubt in your mind that your daughter was saving herself from a stirring speech by bottling up her feelings. Her father was basically a glorified inspirational speaker in his retirement and she had been on the receiving end of too many over the years – each one cheesier than the last, she would confess to you whenever he was out of ear shot.

“Does Dad realise that I’m not one of his rookie drivers? Like, I know what I need to do to win.”

Strong in her convictions, just like him. A carbon copy.

“Remember to keep your elbows out today, especially around that Maddy girl. I know her dad and I reckon she’s dirty like him so watch her at the sta – ouch.”

Your fingernails digging into his forearm cut off Daniel’s spiel, his eyebrows furrowed and silently asking, ‘what the fuck was that for’.

“Just have fun out there, sweetheart,” You interrupted, saving your daughter from her father’s pep-talk, “Keep your elbows tucked in, shoulders with the part like you were taught.”

Daniel sighed and turned his attention back to the busy streets of Fremantle, weaving his way through the traffic like he was back in Monaco, living out the glory days. He was the first to admit that he was living vicariously through her and passionate about what the world had in store for his not-so-little girl. He saw so much of himself in her now, sixteen and on the cusp of what could be.

But you saw things differently to him. Her path wasn’t paved so clearly in your eyes and you made sure that she remained open to whatever life had to bring. She had it all in front of her; possibilities endless with opportunity and success but that didn’t have to be racing. Your dreams for her weren’t as rigid as Daniel’s; his plan to move the family back to the UK had been vetoed by you when your daughter came to you in tears, begging to stay in school and graduate with her friends.

“But babe, those friends don’t last. It’s all just in the moment when this could be her chance at getting her foot in the door,” He argued until he was red in the face.

“Says the guy who just had Blake and his wife around last week for dinner? Come on, Dan – it’s only a year away.”

“Realistically we should’ve moved when she showed an interest in bikes…” He grumbled, frustration simmering behind his closed eyes.

“What? When she was four? Baby, she’s only sixteen but still, she has her dreams set on riding and when the time is right, we will do everything we can to help her make that a reality…”

Your voice was soft; calming as you rounded the dining table and nestled into the open arms of your husband, “Just let her take the lead.”

Daniel dropped his head onto the top of yours and sighed, “You’re right.”

“I almost always am.”

That wasn’t the last conversation you and your husband had about Joey’s future, her grandfather and namesake chiming in with what he thought was the best thing for her budding career. She was the pride and joy of the whole family; everyone saw her talent from a young age but that kind of pressure had to be managed and that had become your life’s work. Her youth had been so hyper focussed on honing her craft that sometimes you felt like she had lost her childhood to the trials and tribulations of racing.

So you put your foot down where you could; namely saving your daughter from having to sit through another car ride hearing all about her dad’s accomplishments and mistakes – hoping she would learn from him but you both knew better than that. She was so young and so ready to make her own mistakes to learn from, like it should be.

She was stronger than both you ever were – a perfect amalgamation of your love.

One of hardest part about race day for Daniel was taking a step back. Of course everyone knew who Joey’s dad was and of course she copped shit for it. Your dad’s a flog and the only reason you’re here is because of him, had been a couple of the unsavoury post-race reports your daughter eventually confessed to you – teary eyed while she begged for you not to tell Daniel but you did because if anyone knew the power of harnessing negative energy, it was your husband.

But the hardest part of all for Daniel was controlling his emotions. He had Italian blood coursing through his veins after all, passionate and fiercely protective of both his girls. Once Joey came along, you knew the papa bear within that had been lying dormant would arise and alas, you were right. All of those crazy nights in bars all around the world, fighting off sleazy men had prepared him to be a girl-dad.

That side to him was glorious to you, endlessly sexy and usually rendered you useless when he decided to bust out the dad moves but to his teenage daughter, he was a total embarrassment.

“Racing under number 33 is Joey James Ricciardo.”

“Give ‘em hell, JJ!”

Daniel’s loud woo echoed through the small crowd, heads turning in your direction including your daughters and you could sense her scowl under the helmet – mortified.

“Daniel,” You scolded, smacking your husband gently, “She’ll kill us both.”

“I know I know,” He grimaced, “Fuck, I’m sorry – I can’t help it... That’s our baby girl out there.”

The image of your daughter, barely two years old, always flashed in your memory when he said things like that. It reminded you of the weeks spent teaching her how to walk. She was so small but so tenacious and you could see that same proud glimmer in Daniel’s eyes now as he did watching her take her first steps. It was mixed with the same wash of fear he had when he let go of her bike seat down that old gravelled road for the first time, praying to god she didn’t hurt herself and end up with tears and scraped knees.

And sure, that happened. Many Band-Aids and tubes of antiseptic were applied to her bloodied elbows and knees but she was a kid after all, feeling every bump in the road until she found her strengths and soared above the rest. She was as quick as a whip and even faster on track – destined to be her own hero but always inspired by her first.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Daniel mumbled as the two of you waited for the race to begin, his foot tapping on the dead grass and nails already chewed down to the skin.

His white cap was still pulled down, disguised as a promise to his daughter who wanted him to just blend in. Wishful thinking. But there was a time that she didn’t want him to come to her meets, insisting that her life would be so much easier if her dad wasn’t ‘the Daniel Ricciardo’ but you couldn’t buckle on that one.

“Your dad is a strong man but that would kill him, J.”

“But he yells out and brags to all the parents about me and the other kids bully me for it… He doesn’t understand how hard it is being a Ricciardo.”

“Hey,” Daniel’s soft voice startled you both, heads flying towards your daughter’s bedroom door, “If that’s what you want, honey I can stay home.”

She sighed heavily and clutched the lilac pillow on her lap, “I want you there, Dad but people are so mean to me and I just want to be normal for once.”

The mattress dipped as Daniel sat down beside you and reached out for his daughters hands, “You can be anyone you want to be, darlin’ – just say the word and we’ll make it happen. We can be normal… or try to be normal.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your husband and give him a teasing nudge, “Try being the operative word.”

Daniel smiled and shrugged, “I’ll even wear a disguise. How about that?”

And here you were, hidden behind a couple of gum trees watching your daughter flying through the air and making her fathers hair greyer with every passing second. She was a force to be reckoned with and karmic retribution for all the years you spent white knuckling in garages across the globe.

“Now you know how I felt back when you were racing. Karma is a bitch, my love.”

“Maybe encouraging her to do this was a bad idea after all…” Daniel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his shaky fingers as you slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“This is sleepover camp all over again. You have to learn how to somehow let her go and spread her wings. That’s all she ever says to me, you know? I wanna be like dad – not afraid, free.”

“I didn’t even realise she felt like that…”

You softly smiled at your husband and pressed a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, “Don’t tell her I told you.”

my hope for this little story is to build a cute world around it. i have a really nice outline for another part of this story so let me know if that's something you would like. and thank you to @vetteltea for her supportive nudge to post this x

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #t&sk fic #dad!driver #daniel ricciardo fluff

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fayes-fics · 2 months

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

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

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

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

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

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

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not made of glass,” you entreat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve the world, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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blouisparadise · 5 months

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of November. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Threes Company | Not Rated | 1,613 words

Alpha Harry gets knot deep in another man’s omega, Louis, while he watches.

2) You've Had A Bad Day | Explicit | 2,034 words

Harry's had a really bad day at work, and Louis takes care of his husband. Fluff and smut ensue.

3) Synced Cycles | Explicit | 2,110 words

Harry sniffs loudly, eyes widening as he smells oranges, a smile creeping onto his face. “You’re going into heat soon. And I’m–” “Going into rut.” Louis can’t keep his excitement down. They’ve been wanting their cycles synced for months, and now it’s finally happening. Harry is going to be the ideal alpha, exactly how Louis begs for him to be when he’s in heat. And Louis is going to be the submissive, pleading omega for him. Fuck.

4) A Night To Remember | Explicit | 3,225 words

“If you’re going to act like a dog, panting all over another woman. Then you can get treated like one.” Louis’ legs were crossed perfectly one over the other, his thick thighs squished in a way that made Harry feel like he might just drool. Louis laughed. “Strip and get on your fucking knees, Harry.”

5) Family Meetings | Mature | 3,555 words

Louis and Harry are coming out to Louis' family. His sisters are curious about a lot of things.

6) It’s Times Like These When We’re Backstage | Explicit | 3,784 words

Louis keeps having company during the UK leg of the tour as well...

7) Softer Than Satin | Explicit | 4,077 words

“Wanna go back to bed,” Louis whispered languidly, voice partly muffled by his boyfriend’s lips on his. “Mm, but we just got up, baby,” Joel murmured. Lips touching softly with each syllable. Hands groping the soft flesh around Louis’ hips, kneading at the skin there and feeling his curves.

8) Skating Through Love | General Audiences | 4,082 words

Alpha Harry gets jealous of seeing Louis being friendly with Alpha Zayn.

9) Always Tell The Truth | Not Rated | 5,027 words

Harry is Louis' dentist and getting a wisdom tooth removed shouldn't be the end of the world.

10) You Were Always Mine | Explicit | 5,948 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 45: A/B/O fic where Louis and Harry have a lot of mutual friends but they don’t get along (mostly Louis doesn’t like Harry). One day, Louis turns up on Harry’s doorstep covered in blood and asking for help. (Inspiration: Prompt #126 from the BLFF 2021).

11) Spaces Between Us, Hold All Our Secrets | Not Rated | 6,441 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The thing about Harry is, is that he is the most wonderful guy you´ll ever meet. He is kind, compliments you on things you are usually insecure about, which shows he truly pays attention to who you are as a person. And he befriends everyone. Except Louis.

12) Leave Like The Summer Breeze | Explicit | 6,551 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When Louis and Zayn are stranded in Alabama, a farmer offers them shelter. He just asks for one thing in return.

13) Your Name Is Tattooed To The Bottom Of My Heart | Explicit | 6,613 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 114: a PWP where Louis gets an arse tattoo with Harry’s name for his birthday.

14) The Writing On the Wall | Explicit | 6,705 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When BookToker Louis receives a gift basket filled with all his favorite sweets, wines, and stuffed animals alongside the new Harry Styles book, he's shocked at the story he finds in the pages.

15) We Can Follow The Sparks | Mature | 6,724 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“I, uhm, this is gonna sound weird, but my friend is an ER doctor and he kinda taught me what to do in this kind of situation,” the man takes a step closer to Louis, “He said a close presence of an unmated alpha and light scenting should keep an omega from dropping, so I, uh, I can help you.”

16) Making A Mess In The Kitchen | Explicit | 7,336 words

Harry and Louis have sex in the kitchen at their work.

17) Muffins & Cigarettes | Mature | 7,591 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis pouts. “You can’t pout your way into this, Louis”, Harry said as he was fixing his tie, watch and rings glinting against the soft sunlight filtering through the window. “Of course, I can. Watch me.”

18) The Freak Called ‘Jezebel’ | Mature | 8,339 words

“Zayn!” Harry said the moment he got inside the room, his voice loud and clear as it touched the four walls of the room. His voice bellowing and ricocheting on their own without Harry raising his voice. Without hesitation, from where he’s sat in the sole incredibly detailed piece of architecture in the whole room, Harry calmly said, “I am going for a vacation.”

19) Hello, My Name Is Louis | Mature | 9,686 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis hurried to hang up the phone and take off his headset, throwing it away as if it was burning hot. He hugged himself by the shoulders and hid his face in his knees, sitting in his desk chair like a swimmer ready to dip into a pool, a pool of embarrassment. Not many people got past "Hello, my name is… " and even fewer engaged in a full conversation with him. And if they did, it usually went better than this.

20) Succubus | Teen & Up | 10,688 words

Harry couldn’t help but read the words loudly and when this make a demon apper in his bed calling him master and intitling itself his “sucubos” he have to figure how to deal with this little boy. “- Who are you? - the boy says confused looking at the boy in his bed who blinks his eyes slowly. - My name is Louis, you called me - he said melodious getting up and going to the alpha - I'm your succubus and I'm here to serve my master - he said falling on his knees and looking up - do you want something my lord? - he said and harry widened his eyes looking around.

21) Part Time Soulmates (Full Time Problem) | Mature | 12,072 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Sworn enemies Harry and Louis are soulmates. Everything is going smoothly until the pain hits.

22) Wait Until You’re Sure | Explicit | 13,042 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 465: Louis and Harry are best friends who made a pact. If neither of them has found love by the time they’re 30, then they’ll get married. It was all laughter and fun until Harry realizes they’re celebrating his 30th birthday and in a few months, Louis is gonna be 30 too. So, he struggles to find someone for Louis to avoid being together, but Louis just keeps rejecting all men Harry introduces to him (because he has feeling for him, of course), which really upsets Harry. They argue about that and Louis says something like “wow, it’s that bad to be with me?,” accepting that Harry simply doesn’t feel the same. Louis moves for a couple of months with another friend and Harry has all this time to understand his feelings, realizing that he loves Louis too and wants to be with him. But when he goes to tell him, Louis is already seeing someone else. So what’s Harry gonna do to get Louis back?

23) With Gilded Wolves On The Wall | Explicit | 13,300 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The night was cold and bitter, much as he was. Though it was only early evening, darkness had already fallen over Winterfell, the snow a thick white blanket coating the grounds and the spires of the First Keep. It wouldn’t be Winter for a while according to his father, but Harry could tell that it now felt like it was on its way. The cold wind whipped his dark, tousled curls back and forth, biting at his cheeks until they were pink. He wrapped his fur lined cloak tightly around his tall frame to keep out the cold. It worked for the most part. “I won’t marry him,” Harry said into the night, his voice steady and confident; the exact opposite of how he felt. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she left since he was only met with silence. Dead leaves rustled in the trees below like they were whispering their approval of his defiance against his family’s orders. “You will,” Anera replied calmly, her expression neutral.

24) Autumn At Fairbridge Hall | Mature | 14,438 words

It is October 1817. Mr Louis Tomlinson hosts an Autumn Ball and a Fox Hunting Party at his estate Fairbridge Hall, intending to find suitable husbands for his younger sisters.

25) Wedding Bells Will Never Ring For Me | Explicit | 14,807 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

After a failed proposal a few years back, Louis gets an unexpected invitation to his ex - Harry’s – wedding

26) In Deep Devotion | Explicit | 15,672 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“I think the folk here think I’m an Omega,” Harry voices out loud. His suspicions began shortly after he arrived to Wright. Wherever he goes, this strange behavior follows. That type of treatment reserved for Omegas.

27) Bend The Rules | Explicit | 16,823 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 588: Lous hires a ‘ghost cooking’ service because his family is worried he’s not eating well and he wants to impress them by showing them what an amazing cook he’s become. The service includes sending a discreet cook to your house and have them get everything ready so that you only serve and take the credit. Problem is, his sisters (can be OCs if that’s more comfortable) get to his flat earlier than planned and the actual cook has to hide in the master bathroom for hours. Louis is mortified. The cook is amused and helps him to clean and well. Gives him a thorough service. Feel free to pick your fave as the cook.

28) Give My Heart A Holiday | Not Rated | 17,222 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

AU where Louis and someone else both like Harry but Harry obviously likes Louis and is oblivious to the other person with scenes like Harry’s sitting with his legs on the coffee table and the other person wants to walk across and Harry doesn’t see them, so they have to say excuse me, but when Louis wants to cross he doesn’t even have to say anything because Harry sits up, puts his feet down, and gives his undivided attention to Louis.

29) Wait For Me | Explicit | 17,454 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Moving to a new place always comes with a few challenges. For Harry, it’s trying to start over after his divorce, while still doing his best taking care of his son. Though just like every parent, he is not infallible, so some mistakes are bound to be made, settling into his new role as a single-dad. For his son, Davie, moving means he has to get used to all the changes happening in his life through no fault of his own. Discovering a secret passageway on their new property lets him form an unlikely friendship with the young man and his dog he finds on the other side.

30) Death Wish | Explicit | 22,067 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis hates vampires, he lives his life trying to kill as many as he can, night after night, year after year. He hates them. Then why the fuck is he kissing one? Again. “I mean it, Harry.” Louis says, into his mouth this time. “You need to get the fuck away from me.”

31) When We Were Young | Explicit | 22,744 words

The one where Harry finally meets Louis again after 13 years of no contact. Could they move on from the past?

32) All Tumults And Feelings | Explicit | 24,458 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Carlos Sainz Jr. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The search for euphoria in a world that seems to be spinning out of control is perhaps what drove Louis to visit the heart of a city as vibrant as Barcelona. Everything is warm and bright on his holidays, even at night, where he finds solace in desperate lips and comfort in beautiful brown eyes that break his heart by making him realize that he has always been more fond of emerald tones covering the irises of his lovers.

33) There is Thunder in Our Hearts | Explicit | 39,649 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

1986, Hawkins Indiana. Stoner, nerdy, metalhead Harry Styles sells drugs to the boy of his dreams, seemingly perfect overachiever, head Cheerleader Louis Tomlinson. It wasn't supposed to become a Thing.

34) Define Me Again | Mature | 54,385 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

He's never felt so frightened in his life before, so fucking terrified for himself. And Louis. He looked down at their hands, which seemed to have been connected throughout the incident. He looked at the ring on Louis' hand, for the nth time that day. His heart hurt so bad now, he was terrified. He wanted to do so many things, he wanted to check on louis, if he- if he- God he couldn't even think about it. "Louis," he tried to whisper, but nothing but air came out from his mouth. "I love you, Harry," whispered a voice. But it was nowhere near him. Visions attacked his mind, rapidly flickering through like one would do the pages of a book. He was terrified. His entire life literally flashed in his mind, vision growing more and more weak and he fought unconsciousness. Memories and the picture of Louis lying unconscious in front of him altered and flickered, so rapidly that he felt dizzy with how fast his mind was whirring. What happens when you die? God he was so, so, so, fucking terrified. All his senses gave out, last thing he felt was Louis' hand in his and then, everything went black.

35) The Face Of Love’s Rage | Explicit | 67,421 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“What if I tell you,” the princess said slowly, “I can get you five kingdoms and a lover?” Harry’s brows rose. “Only five?” he said mockingly. “And a lover. Don’t forget the lover.” “I have a lover.” “Do you?” the omega tilted her head, smiling, “I think right now, you have a consort, two friends, and a hostage. If you marry Julien, you will lose a friend and gain another hostage. Do you want him as a hostage or as a friend?” Harry’s temper was about to snap and break all hell loose. His hands itched to do something with the wild creature in front of him, with her untamed spirit that seemed to mock his authority and challenge his very presence. Abigail Tomlinson, with all her secrets and sins, defied not only his status, but everyone who dared to get in her way. Always making everyone aware that the only reason she was still there wasn’t because Harry let her, but because she wanted to be. Seven kingdoms, two sinners and one big secret.

36) Don't Change Me | Not Rated | 5,279 words

Once in every fifty years, the moon shines brightly over the town of Holmes Chapel for 24 hours. The moment it turns red, any alpha pack leader becomes incredibly and outrageously powerful. For approximately two hours until it subsides, the alpha has the power to change any secondary gender. For example, an alpha can turn another alpha into a beta or omega and so forth. It doesn't matter if the chosen person agrees or disagrees, they have no choice. Once the decision is made, there is no turning back. All it takes to seal the deal...is the alphas howl to the moon, proclaiming their intentions as they stand around a bonfire, where the change will take place immediately. How is Louis going to react when his best friend and alpha leader retracts his alpha status, turning him into an omega so they can mate? Especially when Harry doesn't talk to him about it first.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp

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the-slasher-files · 9 months

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WORKING HARD OR HARDLY WORKING

JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH

A smutty fic totally inspired by a friend who said he was hungry and wanted to leave work so he could eat pussy lol... and Mr Soap is the man with that energy. Fem reader with female anatomy... enjoy🤍🔪

MASTERLIST

A typical rainy UK day had passed you by. Johnny was home from deployment, but he wasn't completely yours, and he never would be. It was something you had accepted in the early stages of a playful, blossoming relationship. The army was his North Star and had melted into the very fibre of his being. Mundane but beautiful, Johnny had risen before the songbirds, brushed his teeth, and swapped the sleep shorts for boxers and his fatigues. Lazily stumbling through the dim light of your bedroom, placing a soft kiss on your temple and headed out to the base.

You would be lying if you had said that the work and life balance did not frustrate you, but he made up for every little moment when Johnny was home. Today was no different.

The clicking of typing and shuffling of papers filled your small office room within your townhouse. Voices over patchy computer microphones faded in and out as your team went over the last quarter of reports and statistics.

"May through June was our best..."

Your manager's voice dragged on as you tapped your pen against the pages of your lined notebook, pursing your lips and watching your bored coworkers upon your screen. That was until you nearly screamed, catching movement behind you on your camera before whipping around with your heart in your throat and wide eyes. It was just your fucking handsome boyfriend making you almost have a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ, John!" You whisper yelled at the scot before quickly muting your mic and shutting your camera.

Normally, the warm and playful energy would be beaming within your space, however, Johnny seemed oddly preoccupied. "Lass, I just..." A frustrated sigh passed his lips, "Had to come home to ya,"

"Is—are you okay?" There was an instant pull of worry on your features, about to stand from your office chair, "Johnny, what's wrong?"

Large hands, gently kept you seated and knelt on the fluffy rug beneath you. Furrowing your brow in concern, the meeting was completely fallen on deaf ears as you cupped his strong jaw, searching for an answer on Johnny's tanned face.

"I needed you" He gruffed out, lust coating each word.

Finally, he gazed up at you with his signature smile and calloused hands smoothing up your thighs.

"Fuckin—" You breathlessly laughed, the worry and concern melting away in his azure eyes.

"I'm hungry" Johnny groaned, thick fingers needing your hips slowly and bowing to kiss each knee.

"Sweetheart, I'm in a meeting right now, but there are leftovers in—"

"No, baby." There was a deepness in his chest when he replied, a tingle sparking within your spine at it. Rough yet skillful fingers almost pulled off the button of your trousers. "I'm hungry for you,"

With a call of his name on your lips, you protested but lifted your hips anyway, allowing your pants to be pulled off and tossed across the floor. Exposed only in your black lace underwear and button-down blouse, your face flushed and breath caught. Each kiss the scot had placed on your soft skin from ankle to thigh lit you on fire. Wetness growing fast as you squirmed beneath his wildfire touch.

"Y/n? ... Y/n?"

You froze at your manager's voice and Johnny just chuckled between your legs, "Continue your meetin' darling"

Cursing under your breath, you turned on your camera and microphone, "Sorry... um, my connection went out for a few m-minutes"

"That's alright, let's review the new topics f—"

"Such pretty little lace" John muttered against your hot core, lips sucking and kisses on the sticky fabric.

Trying to desperately compose yourself, face red and a hand gripping your pen with white knuckles, you flinched once his hot tongue laved across the clinging lace. Nudging your clit softly, those sea blue eyes met yours seeing the struggle, want, need and anger swirling through. He couldn't get enough. Spanking your cunt lightly with a rapid succession, Johnny motioned his head to your computer as your coworker as you question about something you were lost on.

Flying your eyes to the screen, there were puzzling looks, some just zoned out and others awaiting your response. "Sorry, my, um, dog is annoying me," you placed emphasis on the word dog, glancing down quickly to see John's squinted expression. This earned you a gentle warning bite to your clit, wanting to jump back but his hands held you still.

"To answer your question, I have been working closely on this with..." You fought on against the assault of your partner down below, voice professional in placid answers.

Only he could notice the dips and croons within your voice, as he basically spoke directly to your pussy in hushes mumbles, "such a sweet, wet cunt... a needy girl... look how wet she's getting as she tries to focus.."

It was manageable with a steel, stubborn focus you had fortunately been born with, but those walls were crumbling fast. There was a click of a knife, cool metal faster than you could realize and your panties were gone. Hot swipes of his wide tongue made you grip the brown fluffy Mohawk on top of your man's head, fingers tangling within it, reminding you to cut his hair after he ate you alive. Catching your bottom lip to hide a whine, it only made Johnny work faster like a man starved.

The hot magma licked inside the pit of your stomach, managing to reach foreward to mute your mic once the direction of the meeting was turned upon your coworkers, you couldn't help but give out the moan. Needy and wanton, leaning back in your chair, your hips rolled against against his face feeling rough stubble, hot saliva and your own juices now pooling underneath you.

"Fuck, hen... Christ you taste so good" Johnny hummed, the deep vibrations of his voice only made it harder to look normal on your Webcam. "Couldn't stop thinking about this pretty little cunt. Begging me to come home and fuck you..."

"John, J-John" Sweetly, you begged for it feeling so close yet so far in your pleasure.

Bringing the hand that held your pen up to your mouth, chewing on the plastic, hoping you didn't look too suspicious, but in the same breath your shits to give was dwindling. A deep rumble of a groan shot through him, lapping up every single drop of you as he plunged in a finger.

"Oh my god, baby, please" Johnny added a second finger quickly, making you gasp and twist. Your heel digging into the wide plans of muscle that was his back.

He pulled back with a string connecting you two, "Well would you look at this greedy little girl, huh?... Fucking needy angel,"

Flushed, hot cheeks were visible now to your team, along with the obvious wiggles, and you begged this fucking meeting to just be over. John's fingers curled inside you and his skilled lips sucked on your clit, feeling just how close you were it made him chuckle.

"Well, that concludes our meeting fo—"

Instantly, John slammed down your laptop, standing in front of you. Crashing his lips to yours, you grappled against him. Thick muscle flexing under your touch and his fingers pumped faster, noises of your slick, squelched sloppily as your end came strongly inside you. Moaning his name out as his tongue fucked your mouth, the effect of your orgasm splashed his large hand, bringing you slowly down from your high.

"Fucking missed you today" Johnny's accent was heavier with lust, drawing out his fingers to bring them to his own mouth and humming at the taste of you.

"I'm gonna need a good explanation in the next metting." You smiled, breathing heavy.

"It was just your dog" He beemed back, leaning down and laughing against your lips in bliss.

"I need to buy you a collar"

"I'm not opposed to that"

#ok... sorry but im not going back to edit this lol it took too long #love writing for this man tho #so much fun #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #x reader #x you #x s/o #video games #my writing

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agostobuwan · 22 days

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I'd rather hold your hand than make a statement by sunnysideprince

7.3k words, early 2000s, inspired by skins uk

It was only his second week in the UK and his first official week at college—sorry, university—so he had no idea what to expect when Pez “like the sweets” Okonjo invited him to a house party not even five minutes into their first meeting. -- Alex is a studying abroad at Oxford University and meets the elusive Henry Fox.

✨Read on AO3✨

#she is here!!!#firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my writing #my fic

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six-costume-refs · 4 months

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Six Makeup: Masterpost and Links

Hey y'all! Finally finished up a long promised post: all of my makeup suggestions for SIX cosplayers (and/or fans who just want to do some cool makeup looks)!!! I've been actively working on this post for about a year now and compiling makeup for even longer, so I'm happy to finally finish it. I'll get into more details in a moment, but first things first:

I'll include all the links below, but for easy access I made a handy-dandy Pinterest board. It is sorted by costume (sections for each queen + alt costume) and you can clink on any pin to be taken directly to buy it. I would recommend that people look there for a more visual/easy look at the recommendations; I realize pure text can get a bit old!

Some notes: - All of these links are to US sites, with a variety of US and UK sources. Most of these brands ship internationally and/or are available on Amazon as well. - I tried to factor in a large variety of material colors/shades, skin tones, and financial budget. You'll find a mix of US and UK-based brands, mainstream and smaller brands, drugstore versus more upscale, and some brands owned by women of color. - There's a broad range in the companies listed in terms of their ethics, animal testing, politics, etc. I'm including as many companies as possible to give people as many options as possible, but some of these I wouldn't personally financially support. I would strongly suggest that anyone do their own research into the brands listed. - Many of these products may be harsher on skin than your typical products. I'd suggest considering any potential allergens and skin testing any product before use, and using your regular base (foundation, blush, etc) to minimize the number of new products. (If you have sensitive skin or are worried about toxicity, I'd suggest Skin Deep for toxicity information and the FDA site for information on common irritants) - The vast majority of the makeup on this list is products that I know Six actors use. However, just because someone in Six uses it does not mean it's necessary to achieve a great look - there are many great alternatives for just about any product, and what works for a specific actor may not be what works best for you. (I'd also note that the vast majority of queens use some fairly cheap makeup, so you never need to feel like you have to pay more to get "stage accuracy") - Factor in where you're intending to use your products. Six uses some extreme stage makeup and truly crazy lighting; if you use these products with the exact same intensity in just about any other context, it will be way overkill. Convention lighting tends to be harsh so you can usually go a bit heavier there, particularly if you're intending to do any on-stage performances. But for everyday use or a closet cosplay to go see Six or an outdoor meet-up with natural light you will usually want to go much softer. (Photoshoots are a whole other can of worms and really depend on specifics) - Some of this information is taken from a series of Instagram stories Erin Ramirez did. I'm still writing up a post of everything she suggested, but I'll link it here when finished. - And, finally, have fun experimenting and finding what works for you!

Links to recommendation posts and inspiration: Glitters/shimmers Palettes, eyeshadows, and other accents Lipsticks (coming soon) Erin Ramirez's recommendations MAC partnership link Eye look inspiration (my Pinterest board)

#six the musical #six makeup #six hmu #six cosplay #six cosplay refs #six musical #six costumes #greatest hits

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lovableapocalypse · 1 year

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the 1

bassist!remus x fem!reader

wc- 800 ish

warnings- swearing, alcohol, fluff?

a/n- watching the oscars inspired me to write an award show fic lol. also i chose the brits bc theyre british idek. another thing ik this picture is alexa chung but i just want to preface reader has no description except blushing and i do not picture her in any way specific i just liked this picture. lastly ive been so unmotivated to write so i tried tonight but ive been hating everything i write so the longer chapter im working on is taking awhile but its coming. im like 2k deep and not even halfway into the plot lol. anyway love u all.

The champagne you had been consuming tonight brought a heavy flush to your skin. The round table you all were surrounding was decorated elegantly and littered with drinks. Your head was perched in your fist and a look of awe was evident on your features. This was the boy's second year attending the Brits but it still ceased to amaze you.

It was easy to forget they were a largely appreciated group now and these luxury events were a part of that. You were more dressed up than you think you’d ever been. Remus had wrapped his arms around you from behind when you were putting the finishing touches on, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He looked more than attractive in his simple black suit and his lips pressed to your neck, “You look beautiful.” Your face lit up at his words and your heart melted even at his most simple compliments.

You, the band, and the team’s managers were all watching the current artist perform on stage and Remus had his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders. They were nominated in the next category and you could tell the boys were tense. You moved to sit up straight and glanced at Remus. He caught your gaze and warmly smiled at you. You returned the gesture and leaned into him.

“Even if you don’t win, I’ll still love you.”

He laughed, “Good to know.”

You smiled against him and rested your hand on his thigh, squeezing. The artist on stage finished and the room felt crowded with anticipation for the next award- Best Group. The band was up against some impressive names, but they’d put in the hard work and you believed they deserved to win.

You could feel Remus’ hold on you grow intense as the announcers walked on stage. Your heart was racing and you could hardly retain what they were saying, catching certain words as your mind fluttered. Impressive. Best. Wonderful. Praise was floating around the room as short descriptions of the nominated bands played for the audience.

When the last clip played, a cute montage of the boys sitting around you, and the woman on stage reached for the envelope, you held your breath. Remus grabbed your hand, squeezing it in his fist. You returned the gesture and glanced at the boys around you. James and Sirius leaned close to one another, Lily clutching James’ hand nearby. Peter was resting his face on his palm, their manager clutching his back.

The boy’s had been invited to the ceremony last year under the Best New Band/Music category, but with only an EP out they hadn’t expected anything. And while their wins were unsuccessful, the experience itself had been amazing.

This year the boys had produced a number one album and had been traveling all over the UK for shows. They had been dreaming of this moment, but were too scared to admit they might win- or lose.

Your fingers were aching and time slowed as you anticipated the reveal. Your breath held still, you swore you heard wrong when both announcers shouted, “The Marauders!!!”

You gasped and reached for Remus as he sprouted out of his seat. You followed and he pulled you into him, smashing his lips against yours. You laughed and returned the gesture. Breaking away, you shared a yell of excitement and he squeezed your arms tightly. You both turned to the table, celebrating quickly as they moved towards the stage.

Everyone’s smile was bright and unbelieving. You hugged Lily close as they greeted the announcers and moved to the mic. Sirius, the frontman he was, grabbed the award and lifted it up in appreciation. You cheered along with everyone and watched as he glanced at his bandmates in shock.

“Fuck. Wow. Thank you.” He laughed.

James threw his arms around Remus and Peter behind Sirius and they all grinned like madmen. Your hands moved over your face in shock, unbelievably proud of your boys and how far they’ve come. Sirius thanked their fans and the other bands nominated and finished with a group hug with his best mates.

They shuffled off the stage and came back over in an adrenaline induced state. You hugged James, Peter, and lastly Sirius who held you close and whispered his love to you. Remus approached you again with a beautiful, bashful smile on his face. He kissed you sweetly and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

When you sat back down you barely paid any attention to the ceremony and you took turns holding the award and admiring it.

Remus pulled you close to his side again and moved his hand to your exposed thigh. He gently slid his hand up, whispering, “I just want to go home now and celebrate.” You subtly bit your lip, “Hmm. That sounds nice. Can’t believe I get to go home with a real rock star.” He laughed at the nickname and kissed your lips, muttering an ‘I love you’ under his breath.

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