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#that love is an overwhelming thing I think
moonstruckme · 20 hours
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hi lovely I hope you’re feeling better!!!! I was wondering if I could request something with poly!marauders where she’s like simmering with anxiety and isn’t having a panic attack but is sort of close bc she’s just really overwhelmed and the boys notice and try to calm her down and are just sweet <3
Thank you for requesting sweetheart!
cw: signs of anxiety
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
You appear caught in a state of restlessness. You’re meant to be reading, but Remus hasn’t seen you turn a page in ages. Your eyes keep unfocusing, your knee bouncing underneath your blanket and your fingers toying absentmindedly with the corner of your page. 
Remus supposes your boyfriends haven’t done much to create a relaxing atmosphere in your home tonight. Earlier he’d let Sirius keep an eye on the stove while he minced garlic, and of course that had ended with you and James rushing to open every window near the kitchen to get the smoke alarm to turn off, and even once he’d traded Sirius’ help for James’ there’d been several near-misses with the kitchen knives and his reckless chopping. It also doesn’t help that James and Sirius are in one of their moods where listening to them talk is like watching a tennis match. Trying to keep up could give you whiplash, but luckily you don’t seem to be paying attention as they bicker about whether rugby or cricket is the rougher sport (Sirius is only trying to rile James; James clearly knows this, but he persists nonetheless). Still, it can’t make for nice background noise. 
Remus corners the page of his own book and reaches across the space between you, taking your hand. You look up with a smile, pleasantly surprised. 
“Alright, lovely?” he asks, fingers dancing up the length of your palm to your wrist. 
“I’m good,” you reply softly. “How’s your book?” 
“It’s off to a slow start,” Remus admits, “but I’m hoping it’ll pick up soon. How’s yours?” 
You look down at the book in your lap. He almost wonders if you’d forgotten it was there. “It’s not bad.” 
“Yeah?” He lets his fingers rest over the bump of your pulse, trying not to frown at its quick beat. “You haven’t seemed to be reading much.” 
By now your conversation has caught the attention of the other boys, James turning towards you and Sirius tilting his head to see around him. 
“Oh,” James says sympathetically, “is it not very good?” 
“No, it’s fine.” You look back down at your book, a bit sheepish. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.” 
Remus hums knowingly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. James’ brow furrows, but Sirius, true to form, asks outright, “Is something the matter?” 
You shake your head, seeming a bit perplexed yourself. “No,” you say, “I don’t know what my problem is.” 
“You seem a bit strung up,” Remus suggests gently. 
“Yeah, but” —you shrug, lips curving halfheartedly— “not for any good reason.” 
James makes a woeful pitying sound, wrapping his arms around your middle. “Sweetheart,” he laments, “do you think you might want a cuddle?” 
“Sure,” you agree, and your hand is removed from Remus’ as James pulls you into his lap, propping his chin on your shoulder with a pout, “but everything’s really fine, don’t worry.” 
Sirius leans his head on the couch cushion, looking at you with eyes sharp and contemplative. “What’s going through your head, pretty girl?” he asks. 
James covers your heart with a big hand, frowning at what he feels. You shrug. “I was just thinking about what I have to do tomorrow.” 
“You’ve been keeping busy lately,” Remus says. “Maybe you need to take some things off your plate.” 
A grimace is fixed upon your face before he’s finished talking. “It all has to get done, though,” you sigh. “No way around it.” 
Sirius and Remus exchange a look. “Maybe we can help,” Sirius says. 
You shake your head. “There’s nothing you can do,” you insist. “It’s not impossible, I’ve just been lazy and now it’s all piled up and I have to deal with it.” Your voice tenses as you lay it out, and your body with it. “It’s my problem. It’s not great, but I’ll get it done.” 
Sirius’ expression twitches into a frown at your increasingly agitated tone, and James gives you a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. 
“Shh, angel, just slow down for a minute. You’re okay right now, aren’t you?” 
Some of the frustration slips from your expression. “I’m fine, I just—” 
“Then relax.” James’ voice is equal parts gentle and firm. “Take a deep breath.” 
You do. You close your eyes, and Remus can almost hear you counting as you inhale through your nose. James and Sirius, for probably the first time all evening, are silent. 
You stop breathing in. A small dent forms between your brows. 
“I can’t do it all the way,” you say, a slight vulnerability to your voice. 
Remus tries to make his low and sure to counter it. “That’s okay, it still counts. Just keep going, love. And maybe hear Sirius out.” 
Sirius very obviously fights the urge to gloat at the support, but he softens his preening into a lightly teasing look, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. “As I was saying, there have to be things we can make easier for you. What’s on your to-do list?” 
You take in another breath, and James makes a satisfied humming sound against your temple. “I mean, I really have to do laundry.” 
“Are you joking?” A grin splits Sirius’ face. “We can do that for you, baby, easy.” 
“And I have to finish my project,” you go on, as though determined to prove the impossibility of your tasks, “which will likely take all morning.” 
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” James reminds you. “Would it help if I made you breakfast so you don’t have to take the time?” 
You look surprised, head turning towards him. “Yeah,” you say. “That would be really helpful, actually.” 
“Stubborn thing.” Sirius pinches at your thigh, but Remus catches his hand before it can do any real damage. “Nothing we can do, huh?”
You duck your head sheepishly. Still, Remus can hear your smile when you say, “Sorry, you were right.” 
“It happens more often than you’d think, doll. Really astute of you to recognize it, though.”  
“For now,” Remus cuts in before Sirius can get to really gloating, “maybe it’s best to just try to relax, dove. Tomorrow’s problems will be manageable, there’s no sense in stressing yourself out tonight.” 
“Yeah,” you say, almost shyly. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly.” 
“Don’t be sorry, baby,” James chides, tightening his hold on you. “It’s all good now, yeah?” 
“Yeah,” you admit. 
There’s a brief pause. 
“Sorry,” Sirius says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest, “I just want to hear it from your lips one more time. You said I was what?”
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pumpkinbxtch · 2 days
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Hi!! Idk if this is against ur guidelines but would you be okay with doing hcs for aftercare w Jason Grace? I love your writing sm and I love my heroes of olympus boys 😔🙏❤️
ᬊ jason grace | aftercare headcanons
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☆ radiostar is playin': my girl by the temptations...!
warnings: sexual references, aged up (as everything in my writings) a/n: Heyyy, YES. this kind of content is accepted in my rules, which you can read here — rules. thank you sm for your cutie words 🥹🫶🏻 and thanks for passing by my blog! — kisses from Jupiter 💙
Jason is one of the best at aftercare because he's an amazing lover and boyfriend, no more to argue about.
Whatever position you end up in, he carefully slides out of you, not wanting to hurt you.
He's probably feeling a bit too much, just like you, so the first thing he does is ask if you're okay, without hugging you yet to avoid overwhelming you.
It's only when he sees that you're fine that he cuddles with you for a few moments while your breaths regulate and your hearts stop threatening to burst out of your chests.
And as soon as he feels a bit better, he'll be checking on you. He'll run his fingers through the hair on your neck and give you sweet kisses. "Are you okay?" he asks in his husky voice while stroking your bare shoulder.
It's so cute because he treats you like a delicate piece of glass after nearly breaking you in two and just telling you the dirtiest things, but you live for those two sides of him because damn, he's hot, right?
Jason always thinks about the type of aftercare you'll need depending on how you're feeling afterward. Some days he knows you need some time alone after reaching your orgasm and coming back to yourself, while other times you need to cuddle with him until you both fall asleep.
Jason has many things planned; for example, he'll have supplies ready, so after kissing your cheek, he'll put on his boxers and go get water or snacks for you. He helps you sit up in bed and brushes your hair away from your face.
He loves seeing your sleepy face and the sleepiness in it, as well as how flushed is.
He can't help but give you delicate kisses, trying not to overstimulate you again.
He also shows his concern in words, asking or saying sweet things like "Is my girl tired?" "You're so cute" "Come on, honey, drink some water."
He'll also ask if he crossed any boundaries with you. "Was I too rough?" You just shake your head, and he smiles.
"Come on, let's clean you up," and he carries you to the bathroom when you're feeling better. Literally like a feather, no matter how heavy you think you are, he can carry you.
Some days you both shower together, and other times he waits outside the bathroom while you shower. Maybe he'll be changing the sheets and tidying up the bed so you can rest better afterward.
You have your clothes in his place for moments like this, but still, Jason always prefers to give you one of his sweaters; he loves seeing you in them.
That man will cook for you and bring it to bed.
Once you're both changed, clean, and you've eaten something, you can finally cuddle up and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
Kisses and caresses.
Him humming while he strokes your hair.
You resting your head on his chest and him holding you tight.
Small "I love yous" whispered in your ear and hugs.
Until you both fall asleep.
This sometimes changes, but it's always Jason paying attention to your needs at that moment, because for him, you're his whole world.
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lxnarphase · 13 hours
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Please more Hikari and Todo. It's scratching this itch in my brain😩
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IF YOU WANT IT ๋࣭ ⭑
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☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : AAA yesyes this has been brewing for a while, i am happy to write hakari i love him so sooooo much!! and ive got another ask for a todo fic im workin on so this'll be hakari's piece <33 it a bit short bc ive got a bit of writers block rn bc of finals taking away my creativity, BUT I THINK ITS GOOD
☾₊‧⁺...cw : smut, pre-established relationship, unprotected sex, dirty talk, begging, mentions of creampies, mentions of birth control, reader makes the birth control decision herself not for the man!!! never get on birth control just cause a man says to!!, hakari nearly loses it
☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : you tell your boyfriend that you'd like to try sex with no condom and he can't help but get a little excited
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"you...you what?"
the way you giggle makes him dizzy as you flicked the condom out of his hands with your middle finger and thumb. "you heard me, mr. hakari. no condom, baby girl is on birth control," you said in a singy-song voice. you made the decision a while ago and decided you were going to stick to it. "if you want to use a condom, we can, though, honey," you say, cupping one of his cheeks.
he looked so cute, jaw dropped as he kneels between your thighs, dick hard and twitching. "nonononono, i wanna try, i do, 'm just..." kinji lets out a heavy sigh before he shuffles a little closer. "c-can't believe you lettin' me d'this, cupcake..."
the poor thing, kinji looks so nervous, his eyes wide as he slowly, carefully, starts to push his tip in. if he's going to do this, he needs to commit, but fuck, your pussy was so hot, he feels like he's gonna die-- the moment his tip pops in, he is a goner. his head falls back and his fingers dig into the fat of your hips as a choked groan escapes him.
"hoooohmygod, baby, what the fuck," kinji swears, looking back down. he didn't wanna miss a single second of his cock pushing inside, but the view wasn't doing him any better. "you're so warm...are you always this wet, cupcake? fuck, i didn't know, baby, i didn't know."
you coo at him, how could you not when he already looks so fucked out? his pretty eyes are rolling back and his lip is between his teeth, the glint of his chain with your name on it dangling so pretty on his neck.
he's not moving yet, he's still inside you, so sure that he's going to lose himself inside of you. but then you start talking and he's so screwed because hearing you say such filthy things in that gorgeous, addictive voice of yours is kinji's weakness.
"c'mon, kinjiiii, you just gonna sit there?"
"mmn, poor thing, 's too good? you gonna cum just from puttin' it in?"
"d'aww, kinjiii...pussy made you fucked out already?"
yes. yes it fucking did.
weakly dropping down to his forearms over you, he presses a little kiss against your cheek before pressing his forehead against yours and glaring at you weakly. you know you've got him where you want him.
"doll, you're so cruel to me."
finally, finally, he starts moving and...it feels way too good.
"o-oh. mnn, kinji, shit," you swear, glancing down to where his cock is slowly dragging out of you just to push back in. "fuck, b-baby, you feel s' hot inside me..." the wet noise that fills the air as he slides back in to the hilt causes makes you both hot in the face, it's already getting messy and he hasn't even picked up the pace yet. he coos at you, kissing you once you begin to mewl his name. "i know, baby, i know, 's good, yeah?"
fuck, the sensation of being inside you without any barrier is intoxicating, overwhelming. kinji's pretty eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he allowed himself to feel every detail of your slick walls gripping him.
"talk t' me, angel, how's it feel, huh? c'mon, pretty baby, i wanna know," kinji whines, hips starting to pick up speed as he grows desperate to hear you say how good it feels.
but you don't even get to respond before he hits so fucking deep that you can feel yourself gush. the feeling of your hot, cushy walls hugging him so tightly paired with the pretty little gasp he gets when his sticky tip nudges against something that makes you get impossibly wetter makes him lose his mind.
"y'feel it, right? 's me, 's all me, an' i don't know if i can go back, baby girl, fuck! ohmygodd, you're so wet, so fucking wet for me."
"can i cum inside? you gonna let me fuck you full? hm? please, baby, i'll be so good to ya, let your man stuff you wit' his cum, 's gonna feel so fuckin' good, promise, promise."
"suckin' me in so good, 'm-'m gonna be in this pussy all the fuckin' time. you can handle it, right? gonna be a good girl and get fucked every. fucking. day. by hakari kinji? say it, i wanna hear you say it, cupcake."
"i love you, baby, y'know that right? yeah? yeah, love you s' fuckin' much, 'm gonna marry you and make sure you never have t' go a day without gettin' fucked raw by this cock, 's alllllll for you."
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all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
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The Locket
You and Spencer had been working together forever, had known each-other so long you felt closer to him than your own relatives. You knew you loved him, he knew he loved you; so what was the problem?
The problem was neither of you guys were brave enough to say it out loud, afraid the other might not reciprocate.
Whenever Hotch gave orders you always made sure to pair up with him, whenever the team was laughing he was the first person you would look at. You always had your mind on him. So when Hotch needed you to pick a person to find an old file with you, you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Spencer alone.
“Hey y/n, so we’re looking for the Booker case?” Spencer said as you were walking down the hall into the filing room.
“Yup, the ‘67 one. That’s if we can find it though.” You laugh wryly and Spencer gives you a tight lipped smile in response.
You walk into the room and he shuts the door behind you, Spencer immediately goes to find the shelves that hold the cases from the 60’s (not sure if that’s how the FBI actually organizes it but just go with it). You just watched as his beautiful hands gloss over the labels, his shiny brown hair falling over his eyes.
“Well I think this is going to be harder than I thought. I can’t find it I…I don’t know where else it would be.” He said.
“We’ll find it, its gotta be somewhere here. Maybe it was labelled wrong?” You got a light “hmph” from Spencer. You continued looking.
It had been almost an hour and a half of looking through old boxes. Files were scattered all over the floor and you were starting to get tired and overwhelmed, you could tell Spencer was getting frustrated.
“This is dumb and I’m getting coffee, want something?” You asked.
“No that’s okay, no one gets my copious amounts of sugar right.” He laughes then rubs his eyes and continues pouring over files.
You kept looking, taking occasional breaks and having deep conversations ranging anywhere from star trek to is-there-a-god?
He loved talking to you
You came back ten minutes later with two cups in your hand, one for you and one for Spencer.
“Here.” You hand it to him. “I made sure to fill the cup with sugar before the coffee, should be enough. I really hope it is because if it isn’t you are insane and need help.” You joke as he takes a sip and laughs.
“Perfect.”
“Good.”
A heavy silence filled the room, not awkward or unwelcome but peaceful; just enjoying each others company.
You continued search for another thirty minutes, and still nothing. You were about to give up and leave when Spencer started to speak.
“I like your locket.”
“Huh-oh! Thanks, sorry. Just a bit zoned out.”
“who’s inside it?”
“sorry?”
“who’s photo is in your locket”
“Oh no one’s yet, I just wear it because I think it looks pretty” You say
Theres a pause as you stand up and scour the last shelf to check.
“Wait I found it! Someone put it in the 90’s shelf with double homicides, idiot.”
You go to open the door and give to Hotch but a voice stopped you dead in your tracks.
“Can you put me in your locket?”
huh?
“Uhm, sure…Can I ask why?”
Another pause. You think you’re not getting an answer so you turn again but Spencer finally continues.
“Because I love you.”
Oh?
“Wait you..sorry? I-I don’t understand I..”
“I love you y/n, I’m just sorry I didn’t say it earlier”
The next thing you know your lips are crashing onto his, his hands trail up to your h/l, h/c hair. Your hands start to explore as you trace the hemline of his shirt, one of his hands lowers to hold your hip. The kiss gets more passionate and you can’t help but feel like you’re dazed, in a REM like phase.
You pull away but he goes right back for another kiss. This one was different, more sincere. No trace of desperation or lust, just love. Pure love and admiration.
You both stop and look at each other.
“Do you know how long i’ve wanted to do that?” Spencer says, a little out of breath.
“Maybe. I’d assume probably the same amount of time I’ve been waiting too.”
You smile and he laughs.
“We should really get these to Hotch.” You say with a deep blush on your face and swollen lips.
“Sure”
You gave the file to Hotch, he gives you his thanks for finally finding the missing papers. Spencer is waiting for you outside his office.
“I know what happened what cut short but, do you maybe want to go for a walk or something after work? I know a really good ice cream place…” He suggests.
“I’d love that. Thank you Spence.”
“Don’t thank me, I’ve always wanted to.”
Always wanted to.
The next day you printed out a photo of you and Spencer and the aforementioned “really good ice cream place”, and put it in your locket.
The End.
Authors Note:
Ok guys first story how do we feel..? i def didn’t proof read this so if it’s ass just know i dont even know what happened either lmao
idrk if i like it or nah but lmk if you have any ideas or requests :)
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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 day
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Hi DJ! If you’re still doing the ficlet requests, can I get 24 (cuddles of reassurance) with Wolffe? Maybe fem!reader is having a hard time with sex and feels embarrassed/overwhelmed? (If that’s too explicit/uncomy feel free to ignore :))
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Just a Little Bit More
A/N: Thank you so much for this request, Alli! I’ve actually been wanting to write a fic like this for a while. I feel like so much of the smut we see in fanfiction AND in published fiction/media in general is so idealized that even when it has elements of realism, it can present a distorted idea of what sex and intimacy can really be like. I’m certainly guilty of writing somewhat idealized smut, though I do try to maintain at least some semblance of realism (unless Sev is involved; all bets are off with that man). While there’s nothing wrong with having that fantasy, I think it’s healthy and important to also show the reality that it isn’t always easy or flawless, even with a caring, experienced partner who takes our pleasure seriously and does everything “right.”
Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader (Fem; has hair)
Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)
Wordcount: 3.3K of straight smut with some cuddles
Warnings and tags: cuddles; hurt comfort; language; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; nipple play; light/playful spanking; body worship; sex toys; fingering; exhibitionism; voyeurism; creampie; difficulty with orgasm. AKA, the return of SMUTKEA.
Summary: Wolffe is the best you’ve ever had. That doesn’t mean it’s always perfect.
Suggested Listening: 
This fic smells like: Fruit de La Créativité by Grès (raspberry & leather)
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Wolffe gazed up into your eyes as you rolled your hips slowly, searching for the perfect angle. You knew you could find it: you’d done it before, countless times. His strong, warm hands glided up your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper, guiding you closer and closer to your pleasure. You could feel it building inside you, the tension gathering slowly.
Too slowly.
He smoothed one hand up your side, grazing along your rib cage until he cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his thumb. He knew exactly how much pressure you liked, and the way he touched you was perfect.
God, he’s so hot. Just focus on how hot he is.
Sweat glistened on your skin. The room hadn’t been this hot when he’d pulled you into bed, but after an hour and a half of vigorous activity, you were both slick with perspiration, saliva, arousal, and lube. He’d mapped your body with kisses, gliding his lips and tongue across your skin as he devoured you, bringing you right to the edge until you begged him to fuck you. 
You’d wrapped your legs around his waist as he eased into you, a tormented groan rumbling from his lips as he felt your heat envelope him. Gods, he felt amazing, and when he started to move, you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you came. 
It took longer than you expected, and after a while, you realized something needed to change. 
“Take me from behind,” you’d murmured, knowing how much he loved the way your ass pressed into his hips in that position.
“God, yes,” he’d replied, pulling out and rolling you over with enthusiasm.
You loved the way he handled you in bed. He was so fucking strong. He could toss you around so easily—it was hot as hell, but the best thing about it was the care he took to make sure you were comfortable and he didn’t accidentally hurt you. He lifted your hips up and positioned you exactly the way he wanted you. You heard a small click as he closed the bottle of lube, and then you felt his slickened fingers glide over your cunt as he ensured you were ready to take him from the new angle.
“Maker, that ass is gorgeous,” he said, squeezing your cheeks before giving you a playful smack. 
Your mischievous giggle turned into a breathless moan as he sank into you, reaching deeper, stretching you wider, as his hand slid down your body to tease your clit. You loved the way he touched you, the way he caged you in with his body, making you feel incredibly safe and protected. And of course, you loved his cock. He knew exactly how to use it to ensure he gave you as much pleasure as he took—or more.
And still, your orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He shifted, and for a moment, his body rested heavily on you before he resumed his rhythm.
He’s getting tired. Fuck. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I need to give him a break.
“Want me to be on top?” you offered, hoping that yet another angle would be the one that finally pushed you past whatever mental block was keeping you from your release.
He paused, his hands resting on your hips. “Is that what you want?”
“Sure,” you replied. “If you do?”
He trailed his fingers down your spine before slowly withdrawing from your body. You turned to watch as he rolled onto his back and kicked the blankets off the bed. He reached for you with that sexy smirk that you loved so much, and you knew without question that he still wanted you.
He’s such a good man. Gods, he deserves the world.
“Hop on, darlin’,” he invited.
You crawled toward him with a smile, pausing a moment to kneel between his thighs. You traced your fingertips up his legs and over his balls, then ghosted a line up the underside of his cock. You glanced up to see his eyes fixed on you with an intense expression. Holding his gaze, you dropped lower and flicked your tongue over his tip, then slid his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him. You could taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, unspeakably erotic. His hips flexed beneath you, and you heard his breath grow ragged.
He caressed your head gently, stroking his hand over your hair and jaw before coming to rest on your shoulders.
“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he said quietly. “Come up here.”
You gave him one last defiant, flirtatious little suck before you released him, then you began to crawl up to him, kissing a trail up his abdomen and chest. You straddled his hips, kissing and licking your way up his throat, and as you reached his lips, you whispered, “You taste like pussy.”
“Then I must be delicious,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate kiss.
His tongue slid into your mouth as his cock thrust into your cunt, and for a moment you were overwhelmed with the sensations of him filling you. A fresh wave of arousal had flooded you as you’d pleasured him with your mouth, and he slipped into you easily, rocking into you with his powerful thighs. You braced your fists against the mattress on either side of his head, pressing down to meet his thrusts as you rode him hard and fast, chasing your pleasure with a desperation that started to border on frantic as release continued to elude you.
“Gonna make you come so hard,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna fill you up. You feel so goddamn good. Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”
I’m trying, damn it!
“You feel incredible,” you replied breathlessly, and it was true, so why was this so kriffing difficult?
Your hips were starting to get sore from how long you’d been at it, so you shifted positions, bringing your knees higher and setting a slower pace to try to buy yourself enough time that you’d have the energy to make it to the finish line. Wolffe adjusted instantly, not even needing a verbal cue to understand the message your body sent. You found the angle that pressed his cock against the perfect place inside you, and you focused on trying to get as much stimulation there as you possibly could, cutting out all extraneous movement.
The longer it took, the more anxious and desperate you became. You tried to shut down the voice in your head that whispered, “He’s getting bored,” because you knew it was a lie. All you had to do was look into his beautiful, mismatched eyes to see how much he wanted you. And you were so close. So fucking close, if you could just get out of your own head long enough to let go.
You traced your fingertips across his cheekbone and along his jaw, grazing your thumb across his lips. You pressed gently, parting his lips to brush your thumb against his tongue, and then you leaned down and kissed him deeply, trying to lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue against your own.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as you broke from the kiss and returned your hand to brace against the mattress. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
Please stop talking. You couldn’t say it out loud; what kind of an asshole says something like that in response to a compliment?
“You’re so sexy,” you whispered instead. “You’re amazing at this.”
It was true; he was amazing. Unquestionably the best you’d ever had. In the time you’d been together, he’d learned your body completely, identifying every spot that made you shiver, testing different approaches until he knew exactly how and where you liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. He knew where to use his teeth, and where to use his breath; he knew when you wanted him to be tender, and when you craved roughness. 
He knew you.
He knew you better than anyone ever had, and that made your current predicament even more maddening. Because sometimes it was easy. Sometimes you came so fast that your orgasm surprised both of you. But most of the time, it took more work. A lot more. And sometimes, like this one, you would get so close to the edge that you were only seconds away, only to feel the wave of pleasure ebb and be replaced with frustration and exhaustion.
Please, please, please. Just a little bit more.
Your wrists ached. Your knuckles were raw from grinding them into the sheets. You shifted your weight and lifted one hand off the mattress, stretching your fingers and trying to get the blood flowing to them. He glanced at your hand, then back up into your eyes.
“What can I do?” he asked softly.
“Just… keep going,” you said desperately. “I’m so close—I’m so fucking close, and I just can’t—I can’t—”
Abrupt tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face against his neck to hide them, kissing his chest to try to distract him from your distress.
He wrapped his arms around your body, still rocking into you at the pace you’d set. “Do you want to take a break?”
“No, I want you to come,” you snapped, disappointment sharpening your tone more than you intended.
He stilled immediately. You felt his hand slide up your back to stroke your hair softly.
“Hey,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Look at me.”
You shook your head and burrowed your face obstinately into the nook where his neck met his shoulder.
“Talk to me, little one,” he urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
The dam cracked and then burst. 
“I’m so fucking tired,” you sobbed. “And I can tell you’re getting tired, and I just want it to be good for you, and every time I think I’m getting there, I lose it!”
Mortification swept through you that you were making a scene during such an intimate moment, and you tried to stifle your sobs, but it was too late. You felt him go soft inside you, and then he slipped from your body.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”
His arms tightened around you, and he rolled the both of you onto your sides, pulling you close against his body. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Holding you tightly with one arm, he began to run his hand lightly over your back, comforting you with his touch as he kissed your forehead.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated. “You just got tired. It’s all right, love. It happens.”
“It’s so frustrating,” you confessed. “So many times, I thought I was there, and then something would distract me, and it was just gone.”
“Was it something I did?” he asked.
“No, of course not. It was just… I don’t know. A noise? Or a weird thought that popped into my head at a bad time?” You paused, feeling a little guilty as you remembered that, in fact, you had gotten annoyed at an ill-timed remark from him. “And then the longer it took, the more it stressed me out about how long it was taking, until I was stressing so much about it that that’s all I could think about.”
He moved his hand to your shoulder and began to glide it up and down your arm in long, languid strokes. “Why were you worried about taking too long?”
You paused, unaccountably hesitant to admit the truth. He waited patiently, still caressing your arm, until at last you replied, “I was worried you were getting tired. Or bored. Or—I don’t know…”
His hand stilled in its progress, then slid around your back as he pulled you even closer to him. “I would never get bored with you.”
“But—”
“I love you,” he cut you off firmly. “I love being with you. I love fuckin’ you. You’re gorgeous, and sexy, and kriffin’ amazing in the sack. Do you have any idea how lucky I am? Most men only dream of finding a girl like you, but I got you for real. How the hell would I ever be stupid enough to get bored with someone as goddamn perfect as you?”
You didn’t know what to say. You lay in his arms, clinging tightly to him as the tears finally stopped trickling from your eyes. You shuddered quietly.
“Yeah?” you asked in a tiny whisper.
He rolled you onto your back and moved to lie on top of you so he could look into your eyes.
“Yeah,” he replied.
You swallowed. “I love you, too, you know.”
“I know,” he said with a charming smirk.
He pressed his lips to your sternum as his hand slid lazily up your body to play with your breast. The weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress as you cradled his chest between your thighs. You took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, releasing the guilt and stress and self-recrimination you’d built up in your body.
He kissed you again, and again, then he began to work his way across your chest until he drew your nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over your skin as he sucked gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt a spark of renewed arousal, but with it came a surge of anxiety that rose insistently in your mind.
“Wolffe,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can. I really am exhausted.”
He looked up at you as he continued to tease your breast. At last, he released your nipple from his lips, giving you a devilish smile.
“What if we tried something else?”
You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into an answering smile when he looked at you like that. “What did you have in mind?”
He pushed himself up off of you and leaned over to rummage through your nightstand until he retrieved a vibrator—the one you’d once jokingly called “Old Faithful” for its uncanny ability to get you off like clockwork.
“I want you to fuck yourself with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”
Your breath stuttered to a halt, your eyes widening and your heart beginning to pound at the idea. Your gaze flicked from the toy to his eyes and back again.
“Wh—what about you?” you stammered.
“Don’t you worry about me,” he replied. He switched on the vibrator and traced it down your abdomen, making you twitch as its buzz tickled your skin. “Will you?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the toy from him. “How do you want me?”
“Whatever way works best for you.”
You thought about trying to pose for him, to put on a show, but you knew instinctively that wasn’t what he was after. If he’d wanted to watch a counterfeit, staged orgasm, he would have just found a holoporn. No. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to see your genuine pleasure.
“All right,” you whispered.
You took the toy from him, and he moved off of your body to lie next to you, observing you closely. You adjusted the settings to your preferred speed and pattern, then took a deep breath and began.
The instant you touched the vibrator to your clit, your entire body tensed, and you gasped quietly. You glanced at Wolffe and found his gaze riveted to your pussy, his one good pupil dilated so wide you could barely see the amber ring of his iris around its inky depths. You felt a little self-conscious until you saw the way his lips parted slightly as his breath became heavy. 
You pushed yourself back into the pillow and closed your eyes as you adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing it exactly as you needed it. With your free hand, you began to play with your breast, caressing and squeezing and rolling your nipple between your fingertips. You felt the warmth of his hand as it settled onto your leg and then slid up your thigh. Your opposite leg curled up to brace your foot against the bed, opening your stance wider as you moved the vibrator exactly the way you needed it.
“Fuck,” he rasped hoarsely, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. His fingers grazed lightly over your pussy, but quickly withdrew.
“You can touch me,” you gasped.
He didn’t move immediately, and you continued to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the tension gather in your body and begin to tighten in on your center. Then his fingertips brushed over your cunt again, and you felt his lips and tongue descend on your hip. He didn’t try to take control, just touched you softly, kissing and licking and watching as you played with yourself. 
You adjusted your position again, bringing your leg against his body, and you felt his slick, rigid cock press hard against you. You whimpered, so turned on you couldn’t even form words, and in response, he ground his erection against you. He kissed across your pelvis until he reached your belly, pressing his face into you.
“I’m so close,” you panted.
“Kriff, me too,” he growled.
His fingertip grazed into you, and your body jerked as you gasped sharply. He froze, and without thinking, you moved your hand away from your breast to grab his wrist and push him deeper. With an urgent grunt, he began to move his finger, stroking exactly where he knew you needed him.
Abruptly, your hips arched off the bed, and you let out an inhuman wail. If your brain had been functioning, you might have also heard Wolffe’s rough groan, but at the moment, you were aware of nothing but blinding, shattering pleasure as your body finally found the release it had been denied for so many hours. You jerked the vibrator away as the intensity suddenly became too much, and your body convulsed again and again until at last you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.
Wolffe covered you with frantic kisses, crawling up your body until he reached your face. His body hovered over you as his tongue brushed between your lips and flooded your mouth with his taste. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your legs tightened around his hips, and you pulled him into you. His cock slid easily, and he thrust hard and fast, fucking you through the last tremors of your orgasm.
He came within seconds, flooding you with heat as he thrust hard, one last time, burying his cock as deep as he could inside your body. He stayed there, his entire body taut, until at last he exhaled a hard breath and relaxed onto you. His lips broke away from yours, and he rested his forehead against the pillow next to your head.
“Fuck,” he panted, the word hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”
You stroked your hands up and down his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin. He groaned and slumped heavily against your body. You loved the weight of him on top of you, but before long, you began to wheeze quietly as you struggled to draw breath. He heard the shift and immediately rolled off of you, pulling you against himself as he came to rest on the bed.
“Thank you,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his chest.
He laughed quietly. “Thank you. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 
“Worth the wait?” you asked.
“Worth everything,” he murmured, drawing you even closer. “Everything, and more. You always have been.”
 ---
Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts!Want more Wolffe? Here’s a tiny little fluffy ficlet.
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Note
Can I ask why you don’t like Vil much? If you haven’t answered that already?
For me, I also didn’t like him at first but loving Rook has turned me into a Vil lover 😭.
[Referencing this tier list!]
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A significant part of it is no fault of Vil's own, it's just... I have a very strong aversion to celebrity characters. This dislike scales up the more famous that celebrity character is + how much attention is brought to their status, and well... Y'all know perfectly well how famous Vil is 🤡 This is why I also dislike his father to some degree, though it's to a lesser extent because I at least appreciate Eric being involved in his son’s life + find Eric to be friendly.
Celebrity characters tend to make me feel deeply uncomfortable chiefly because their careers put them in a position where they're ripe for parasocialism (which is when one party, ie their fans, extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, ie the object of their affection, is completely unaware of the other's existence). Parasocialism in of itself is not a negative thing by default; it can, in fact, be a powerful motivator to improve oneself or can significantly lift one's mood. Some sectors entirely rely on parasocialism to function (such as the "influencing" industry).
Where it starts to get iffy for me is when we veer into the most parasocial of fans who will take extreme actions to support and/or hate on an individual. These are your stalkers, your sasaeng fans, etc. While I'm aware that these are the vocal minority of a celebrity's fanbases, the kinds of things these extremely parasocial fans pull off deeply unnerves me. Like Vil, the celebrities involved are by no means at fault—but they’re always “tainted” in my mind by the association due to the sheer magnitude of what their most crazed fans do in their name 💀 So when I think of that celebrity… I also think of the insane stuff they have to deal with from their fans and that stresses me out.
I find the whole “celebrity worship” culture in of itself very odd. It’s difficult for me to form an attachment to a real person that doesn’t or cannot reciprocate. By extension, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around activities like following the celebrity’s life closely, supporting any and all projects due to their involvement alone, and collecting merch/signatures. Thinking of Vil’s fans doing this… (or, as seen in the Tapis Rouge event, getting emotional/shrieking for him, begging for a glance, fainting, etc.) it invokes those feelings of discomfort again.
Finally (regarding the celebrity thing), Vil and other famous people tend to be in the spotlight. I don’t really like this sort of a presentation; it calls too much attention to them. This runs counter to the types of characters I tend to gun for: the schemers who operate from the shadows, typically appearing innocuous or humble at first glance. These characters stay out of the spotlight and prefer it that way, as it allows them more freedoms to enact their plots. Celebrities’ positions don’t really allow for that. Even if their off-camera persona is completely different than their on-camera one, the attention they’re showered with never seems to fade.
I also find Vil’s entire presence way too intense (even when he’s lined up next to arguably much more physically imposing students like the 180 cm+ squad or any muscular character). This is why I can tolerate Neige but dislike Vil; Neige comes off as innocent and approachable—so much so that I don’t even register him as an idol or a celebrity in my mind. He’s just a cute boy-next-door type inviting me to dance and sing with him and his friends!
Vil’s hair, makeup, tall heels, the need for perfection, his sternness. It’s a LOT to take in. I can admire the confidence and the tenacity with which Vil pursues beauty, but at the same time… it can come off as super overwhelming. I don’t think I could comfortably breathe in the same space as him without feeling like I’ve offended his sensibilities 😅 Sometimes I get a little anxious just reading him scolding others; it feels like he’s reaching through the screen and scolding me too. I get the overwhelming vibes even through the things Vil creates or commissions; the composition and choreography of Absolutely Beautiful was so oppressive and centered on winning that I disassociated from my own school’s team 💀
Some other minor, miscellaneous gripes I have with Vil:
I don’t generally have a problem with Vil’s leadership or how he guides/teaches others. (His behavior is very similar to what I’ve experienced within my own culture’s upbringing.) However, I do not approve of all of his methods and I do think he does “too much” at times + oversteps, making me feel uneasy.
His tastes don’t really match mine! It’s a little too “glam”, especially the ensembles with heavy smoky eyes.
What’s with him dying the ends of his hair that color… It makes me think of him dunking his head in grape Kool-aid as a dye 😭/j
There we are ^^ I hope that explanation was sufficient!! I tried to explain my… admittedly complex feelings behind my dislike of Vil as neatly as I could. Nothing against the guy, how he is written, or his fans (both in-universe and irl), of course!! This is just my opinion.
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Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)
let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here
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pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)
length: 1.4k
genre: fluff, kinda angsty
warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own
a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3
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Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned. 
He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered. 
"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.
"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you. 
"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.
"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.
Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.
Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.
"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin -  something ruined touching something holy.
"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.
"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.
When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb. 
It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.
"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.
"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."
"But you did steal it, didn't you?'
"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.
"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."
"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."
Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.
"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.
"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.
"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.
"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his. 
There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.
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latenightdaydreams · 14 hours
Note
Had a dream
Recruits make a bet on who can scare Colonel König
first. Money for the winner. Stupid idea I know lol
Got me thinking about
Hiding under his desk when hes out of his office. Him coming back later and locking his door. Sitting down in his chair. Just as your about to grab his leg to scare him he undoes his belt and pants.
Recruit wants his cock in their mouth
This isn't stupid at all! Sounds like a porn set up haha
Let's Make a Bet (g/n)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: bets, voyeurism, oral, mention of sex, masturbation
1.2k word count
.
.
Colonel König is a stoic man, never showing any emotions. Never laughs at jokes, crying at sad moments, or even showing fear when face to face with death. The man is made of stone. That’s when you and another recruit got the stupid idea to try and scare him; whoever wins gets $200. Shaking hands, you both accepted the challenge.
Your fellow recruit first tried something small and simple, a tarantula in the break room. König simply looked at it, picked it up, and walked it outside, totally confused. Small pranks like these didn’t shake the man so you decided to turn it up a notch.
When you knew König would be out of his office running drills, you decided to sneak into his office. Your heart pounds as you enter. You’re small enough to fit comfortably so you crawl under the large wooden desk and wait.
A half hour passes before you hear the door open, König muttering about things in German as he locks the door behind him. He walks over to his desk chair and sits down, facing sideways. You wait until he turns to try and scare him. 
You hear the clicking sound of his mouse and occasionally the keyboard when finally, he turns to face you. You wait a little while trying to suppress your giggles from the excitement. König types quickly and then relaxes back in his chair.
Just as you’re about to grab his legs, his hand moves to his belt buckle and you watch as he unbuckles his belt. His hand unbuttoning his cargos before pulling his zipper down. You watch as he pulls out his flaccid dick, which looks like your boyfriends fully erect. The smell of his natural musk after a long day of sweating fills the space. Instantly you feel yourself getting turned as you watch in anticipation. 
From his computer, you hear soft sounds of moaning and you realize he is watching porn. His cock slowly getting erect, he grabs it and pulls the foreskin back, exposing his bright pink head. His hand begins to lazily stroke himself unaware that you’re under the desk watching. His cock is massive, porn star huge, and you’d love nothing more than to know what it feels like.
With one of your hands, you slowly begin to rub yourself through your pants, your own arousal growing by the second as you watch his hand begin to move faster. Small moans leaving König’s lips as you see precum begin to drip from his tip. His other hand came down to tug on his balls. 
You feel an overwhelming want to just suck his cock. Taste how his bitter cum would taste on the tip of your tongue. Trying to decide where to go from here, you just continue to watch as you please yourself. 
König’s hand slows as he moves the one from his balls back to his mouse and seems to be looking for a different video to watch. You take a deep breath, one you think König heard, so you gently rest your hands on his lap.
You won the bet; König jumps in his seat and screams like a small child as he kicks his desk back. He looks down and sees you.
“I’m sorry I know this looks so weird,” you begin to explain in almost a panicked ramble.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” König shouts, his mask hiding his red face full of embarrassment.
 “I- I,” you stumble over your words before deciding to just be bold, “I want to suck your cock.”
“What?” König’s defensive demeanor changes slightly as he hears your words. He couldn’t believe his ears. He always found you attractive, so to be put in this situation, he feels as if this is a dream. 
“Let me help you cum.” You look at his hand trying to cover himself.
He looks down at his cock losing its erection because of the fear, and then up at you with desire in your eyes.
“Are- are you serious?” He sounds slightly unsure.
“I am…”
König sits for a while before he nods his head and motions for you to move out from under the desk. You crawl forward and kneel before him. 
His piercing blue eyes gaze down at you as you inch closer to his cock, his hand slowly moving to the side so you can grasp it with your own. He lets out a soft shuddering breath as you do. You slowly stroke his cock as you look up at him, his eyes have softened.
You lower your head and pull his foreskin back before flicking your tongue on the tip of his cock. König’s breathing begins to pick up, his eyes shifting to the frozen porn and then back to you.
“Can you take your shirt off?” He asks feeling a little nervous asking for something extra.
You gladly lean back and pull your shirt off, König looks over your body and smirks under his mask. Your skin looks so soft and beautiful. As you lean back down and begin to lick his cock again. He reaches out and begins to caress your bare shoulders and down your arms, you feel as soft as you look.
Holding his cock up, you lick his balls. Gently taking one into your mouth at a time and sucking on them while on of your hands strokes his cock. Your tongue licking them all over, making them slobbery before moving your attention back to his cock.
You wrap your lips around his cock finally and he lets out a soft moan. You lower your head on his length, taking in a few inches, sucking as you bob your head. König looks down at you, eyebrows pinched beneath his mask.
“Just like that Schatz,” He leans his head back and closes his eye; letting the waves of pleasure take over.
One of his hands moves to the back of your head and gently pets your hair, resisting the urge to shove your head down farther on his cock. The room filled with the sound of your mouth desperately wanting to please him and his small moans.
Your hands grasp his thighs as you push your head down further, making yourself gag. His hand applies slight pressure to help you get his girthy cock into your tight throat. His hips bucking upwards slightly as spit begins to pool at the corners of your stretched lips. He looks down at you and stares in awe at you before his eyes travel down what he can see of your body.
He looks back at the frozen porn of a woman bent over and he looks back at you. Your eyes looking up at him noticing his want. Slowly releasing his cock from your mouth, a line of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
König doesn’t speak, just nods. His eyes look as if they’re glossed over with a lustful daze. You stand up in front of him, his eyes traveling down your body. You begin to undress in front of him. His hand reaches out and caresses your hips before standing himself, his pants dropping to his ankles. He grabs your waist and turns you around, pushing you gently down onto his desk. Your face touching the cold wood as you feel excitement rush through your body. He steps behind you and squeezes your ass before lining himself up with you.
You won the $200 bet and get to experience your first BWC, it’s been a pretty good night.
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sanzaibian · 3 days
Note
Which writers do you recommend ? What stories did you like?
I follow quite a bit of creators, so it would be quite overwhelming to include all of them ! So I'll only include those I especially like and have things to say about.
I'll of course shoutout @joshslater, he's honestly a bit of an idol to me, since his stories are always so imaginative - and well-written ! In that category I also add @salmonskinrolltf of which I especially like the multi-parters, and how he explores a gimmick very thoroughly, @maletfsstories who always write great stories that hook me up even on kinks I don't have, and @rozza22365 who basically was the one to introduce me to the guilty pleasure of gay to straight by his thrilling prose !
I'll also shoutout the very prolific @papermoon357 (because, let's be honest, who wouldn't !), whose skill really shines in the stories he posts between captions, @fredwkong and @octuscle who both have a similar style of reader-driven posting that brings a ton of varied content, with each their own spin (thinking about it, it might very well be in the continuation of the style of feu collegenerdtojock, whose tumblr has been taken over by pastry for some reason), as well as @coyotes-rules-of-change who always nails down perfectly what I find hot in tf !
And for newer writers, I'll shoutout @occamstfs who does an extremely good job, @tidetfs who seems to have pretty similar interests as me, and @alphajocklover who kinda does have that old tumblr tf community vibe to his stories !
Finally, a few mentions that I don't know how to group, I shoutout @dreamingtf and his stories that very often make me feel good, @idesofrevolution who has a nack of writing immersive stories, and @nonotnolan who writes some really sweet love stories ^^ (and I'll add an honorable mention to Programming Prince, who was banned multiple times from Tumblr, and since quit writing stories, but was very impactful in my introduction to the community ^^)
As for stories, well, you make me dig deeper, the list has already been so long to write ! But here are some of my all-time favorites, of which I link through my likes/main blog (so that if the link perishes, it perishes with that account ^^') :
@fullfriendnerdpurse's trio of alpha car, forced imposter and how to make a douchebag (not the actual title), all are great concepts of which I love to throw myself inside, and I think could all make a thrilling longer story, @rozza22365's Brotherly Changes, that one story that convinced me to follow him, @alphajocklover's Unmoved, which resonates with my personnal experiences a lot, feu tyranitartf's I'm a dumb jock, very hypnotic and thrilling, @anomanlyarchives' text message swap (not the actual title), of which I love the love story, I-don't-remember-whom's Chess Rival, republished by @marcoh1234, a good all classic that just doesn't get old, @erogenousmind's Turing, one of those stories that just scratches my existential horror erotica itch, @0ng0ingw0rk's To Love and to Cherish..., a great love story, @joshslater's Wet Dreams, the story I blame for my diaper fetish, Happy Endings' The Mind Palace (gayspiralstories), honestly my favorite story of all times, I love the concept, love the execution, the sweetness and the corruption. I do an RP on it (or at least did until I took a break), and I think that's the one concept I won't be bored of ^^'
There's a buch of other stories I love and would love to show off better, but that list is already long enough, so I focused on the most impactful stories ^^'
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gabessquishytum · 17 hours
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The first time Hob Gadling smells Morpheus Endless, he (Hob) had just shot someone in the face.
Hob tries very hard to be invisible. His job is to do various "tasks" for the Endless Organization. He is to be discreet and effective. And under no circumstances are his activities to point back to the Endless family and their (legitimate) dealings.
This is easy enough as an omega -- even in this current age, people still don't think omegas are "violent" or engage in acts that aren't fluffy and sweet. It's almost insultingly easy to be on the "wrong" side of trouble as an omega.
Hob is not the demure sort of omega. He'd just as soon punch an alpha in the face as purr for one. (When he must interact with alphas "like that," heats and such, Hob is fond of tying them down and riding them to his satisfaction.)
Morpheus Endless doesn't smell forgettable, like the rest of his family. He smells like Hob's favorite things, like home. Hob is going to make Morpheus his, and no one (even Morpheus himself) better get in his way.
Oh god, I LOVE a dominant omega.
Morpheus doesn't have much to do with his family's criminal enterprise - in the dynamic of the family, its his job to appear to the public as a perfectly legitimate philanthropist with an interest in art. But that doesn't mean he's not aware of how the money is really made. And it doesn't mean that he's not a target for rival organisations.
He'd found himself damn close to being kidnapped by some of Burgess's goons when Hob seemed to melt out of nowhere and silently, quickly and expertly shot the kidnappers dead. Then he quickly cut the zip-ties from Morpheus’s wrists and grinned. Morpheus - who would never usually even bother to speak to one of his family's "employees" - nearly melts into the floor with overwhelming lust for this dangerous, smiling omega.
Hob takes Morpheus to the nearest building owned by the Endless organisation and insists on checking him over for injuries. He practically straddles Morpheus while feeling his wrists for any damage, checking him for concussion, even scenting him to make sure that he's "calm enough". Morpheus is far from calm, actually. When he puts his hands on Hob’s waist his feels the holster that's strapped under his clothes and very much bulging with various firearms. Hob smells so dangerous and so good and all Morpheus can think about is fucking him...
But Hob makes it quite clear that he's not interested in a one night stand. Nor is he interested in parting as friends. He fully intends to make Morpheus his mate, whatever the consequences may be. Hob is very much used to getting what he wants, and he doesn't intend to give up. If he has to he'll tie Morpheus up and really kidnap him, take him away from his family and give him a mating bite so it's too late for anyone to object. He'll make sure that Morpheus puts a baby in him, if that's what it takes.
And Morpheus really doesn't need this kind of persuasion, but fuck if it doesn't turn him on. The idea of being taken by his omega is so arousing, he nearly cums right there with Hob just sitting in his lap.
Hob won't be purring any time soon, but he will certainly manage a contented hum a few months down the line when he's introduced to the rest of the Endless family as Morpheus’s mate. It's far too late for them to get rid of him, when he's already carrying a little Endless heir inside him. But he packed his favourite firearms, just in case. It does make Morpheus so horny when he sees his precious little omega holding a gun to somebody's head...
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greghatecrimes · 2 days
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Okay. Buckle up babes, it's finally Foreteen time and I wrote an essay.
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Foreman and Thirteen are so interesting to me in so many ways. You have Foreman, who thrives off of control, and Thirteen, who refuses to be controlled in almost every aspect of her life. In the sense of them as individual people, they both have a lot of their own issues going on. Hot messes, the two of them. But in the sense of them as a couple, I think Foreman specifically is the only one who has issues with the relationship. (Or rather, Thirteen's issues aren't being projected onto the relationship and causing difficulties at the end of s5/beginning of s6, while Foreman's are.)
Foreman's biggest thing, at least in the latter part of their relationship, is control in regards to emotions. After they found Kutner, he coped with everything by isolating himself. A huge part of me thinks that's because this terrible thing just happened, the floor just fell out from both of them in so many ways, and Foreman feels like he doesn't have a grip on anything anymore. The only thing he can control is himself, and how he reacts. So Thirteen? Even though she's his girlfriend and he's worked with her for two years, her emotions and reactions are fundamentally beyond the scope of his control; she's still a wild card. She's not safe. So instead of letting himself lean on Thirteen, letting them grieve together, letting them comfort each other, for his own stability, Foreman chooses to cope (and thus reject Thirteen when she reaches out for support) by retreating into an environment that he's intimately familiar with. He surrounds himself with only variables that he can confidently predict. It's his gut instinct. It's always worked before, so why wouldn't it work this time? Why would it have any reason to cause problems?
In season four and the first half of season five, Thirteen was very much the same way. When things became too overwhelming for her, she repeatedly dealt with them by running, by hiding; by trying to isolate herself from the people who care about her and want to help her. The same base principle drives them both at this point: "what's out of my control is dangerous in some way or another. The only one who's safe to be around is myself, because I am the only person that I can control." But by mid season five, Thirteen has come a long way from that. Slowly she's becoming much more of a "recovering control freak". She's starting to be okay with the fact that she's not always going to have the amount of control that she has right now. She knows that all of it is something she has to come to terms with, and slowly she's getting to a point where she's accepting her diagnosis and working on all the baggage that comes with it.
Thinking about that– the fact that, by mid season five, Thirteen is approaching a point in her life of letting go, of learning to 'go with the flow'; while Foreman is very much still on the side of "I thrive and keep myself safe by controlling every aspect of my life possible"– makes them fundamentally incompatible as a couple from the get-go, even with all of the chemistry they had. Because the moment they get together (the Christmas party in 5x10 "Joy to the World") is right after Thirteen's decided that she doesn't want to die; when she's just starting to process her diagnosis instead of running from it.
Do I think there was/is love there? Yes. They absolutely care about each other, both during and after the relationship.
Do I think they would have worked out long term? The simple answer is "no".
The more complicated answer is that if they had been able to avoid the fiasco of Foreman running the department and then firing Thirteen after House quit, I think they could have made it work. But it would have been rocky, and it would have been especially rough for Foreman. Extremely so if it were to reach a point where they've stayed together for years and years, and Foreman is with Thirteen when she really starts to decline with her Huntington's.
Foreman is Thirteen's friend; he's also seen people slowly wither away from degenerative disease (his mother, with Alzheimer's), and he's a neurologist (and so he knows exactly how she'll decline, down to every last detail). All of those things give him greater emotional stakes in her Huntington's diagnosis beyond what's typical. But specifically in the situation of them facing this as a couple, you have this level of involvement where Foreman– someone who needs a high amount of control to function on a fairly basic level– is in an incredibly intimate relationship with Thirteen, whose entire life is inevitably and actively slipping out of her control. And in that scenario... I think that when the decline does start happening, it would absolutely terrify Foreman. To be the one that's by her side as a partner– seeing all of it firsthand, the pain and grief and sickness? And as her significant other, being the one that would potentially become a medical proxy when she's too sick to advocate for herself, faced with the possibility of making life or death decisions (like whether or not to euthanize the woman he loves)? I think that would have the potential to utterly destroy him.
As a friend, though? ("Ex-partners who have gotten back to a shaky friendship after the breakup, and still care about each other deeply", but "friends" for short.) The entire situation completely changes. I firmly believe that post-canon, if Foreman knows House offered to kill Thirteen before he "died", he would offer to kill her in House's stead in a heartbeat (just like I think Chase does). THAT sort of involvement with Thirteen's decline and care is far less terrifying, because now this is not the decline of someone that he's based his entire future on. This is not someone he's given half of his heart to; this is not someone he's built an entire life with and entwined himself so thoroughly with.
With the way things work out in canon, they're still friends, and they still care about each other; but at the end of the day, they're two separate people with two separate lives, two separate futures. And so Foreman doesn't lose a single ounce of his control as Thirteen's is slowly taken from her, bit by bit. Witnessing that is still a pain that is unimaginable. But for him, it's survivable. And that's the key difference (and why I ship Foreteen during season five and season six, but not post canon).
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runningquill-art · 3 days
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“Tassel Moss looks as you’d imagine,” said Granger. “Tiny tassels across the top. It’s the sporangia – unusually big in the genus. They turn pink in the summer – of course, we’re a little too early for that.”
Was this woman a genius at Herbology, on top of everything else? Draco wondered how much of Potter and Weasley’s limited scholarly success was due to absorbing her knowledge by intellectual osmosis.
She was, frankly, overwhelming.
Granger carried on along the path, squatting down occasionally to observe things. It was altogether rather a peaceful ramble, with the charms keeping him dry, the sound of the rain and the occasional brave songbird, and verbalisations from Granger telling off various mosses because they weren’t the right one.
For the first time since he’d taken the Granger casefile from Tonks’ hands, Draco felt glad of the decision. This was certainly more pleasant than most of his work as an Auror – fewer hexes and eviscerations coming his way, for a start.
And, bonus, it got him out of tea with the ladies, and promised many more opportunities to do so. That set would be tut-tutting at Granger over their teacups – Granger with her hat askew, her face smeared with dirt, clambering about in ditches instead of finding herself a rich husband. But she was apparently doing something great for wizardkind, and what, pray, had they achieved?
“I think I found it!” called Granger.
Draco pushed through some brambles to be, once again, presented with a view of Granger’s bum. Familiarity breeds fondness – he was rather developing an appreciation for it.
“What you’ve done there, Granger, is gone arse over tit.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 4: Imbolc, by @isthisselfcare
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DMATMOOBIL art 30/40
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too-antigonish · 3 days
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Morse and drinking in the 70s...
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Long....because I can't write short. And obviously, a lot of you will already know this stuff...
Just want to take a moment to talk about alcohol and alcoholism in the context of the early 1970s and remind folks of how totally and completely different it is from how we see it today.
Drunk driving had not been outlawed in most countries. Not only that, it was widely regarding as funny—funny enough to be used as a regular “gag” in movies. Problem drinking was also seen as funny. There were regular cartoon strips about it. The “drunk” was a funny stock character in all sorts of plays and movies.
Alcohol was ubiquitous. We’re not just talking liquid lunches. We’re talking drinking at work, while you work—just as you see in Endeavour. Think about that for a second.
And politely saying no wasn’t something you did without social consequences. It wasn’t just seen as a personal preference. Unless you had a specific, acceptable reason, turning down a drink was often seen as stand-offish and judgmental or as a social snub. Teetotalism was regarded as rather naive and ridiculous—not something any man or woman of the world would embrace.
In the early 1970s, there was no widespread understanding of alcoholism as a disease. It was still seen very much as the consequence of personal weakness—still a matter of “If you cared enough or tried hard enough, you wouldn’t do this so it must be a character flaw.”
Plus, most people, “normal” people don’t have problems with alcohol, so if you do then there’s something abnormal and defective about you—most likely something you brought upon yourself.
And as a “personal weakness” and a “defect,” the shame around it was profound and the secrecy matched. If someone went away for treatment, it was very much akin to an unwed mother going off to have her baby and then returning without the child. You never spoke of it. You pretended that it had never happened.
If you were a kind person, you also didn’t go out of your way to parade babies in front of her or talk constantly about children when she was with you. But refer to it directly? Never. Ask for help? Never. It was always something to be hidden. Everyone did their best to forget that it had ever happened and saw this as the "kindest" thing to do.
When Morse returns from his “cure,” it would simply be assumed that everyone would pretend that nothing unusual has happened. Why he’s  just been off on a tour of the West Country and nothing else! Hope you had a lovely time! That sort of polite fiction was exactly what he would have expected upon his return. Anything more direct—at least in a public setting—would have been shocking to him and everyone else.
Where things break down, however, is in the more personal interactions. His relationship with Thursday is such that they can at least broach the topic of drinking. When they do, my impression is that Thursday is well-aware that Morse not “cured.” However, in the context of the time, saying this would be akin to saying, "You failed," because there was no disease model of alcholism in widespread use. You went to be cured and it worked or it didn't.
However, I'd also add that Thursday is almost to the breaking point with the cumulative strain he is under. He can’t cope with the “burden” of Morse being in a precarious state and he knows it. He feels desperately guilty about that—as well as about other things like Strange and Joan or about life having moved on so much while Morse was gone—and so he just shuts down. 
Shutting down is Thursday’s go-to strategy when he’s overwhelmed. We’ve seen him do it many times before. And part of that for him, is that he pretends that the people around him are ok—even if they are anything but ok. Not surprisingly, he does it the most with the people he has the closest emotional ties with—Win, Joan, Sam, and Morse.
So the only way that Thursday can cope is by having Morse be perfectly fine. Conveniently, his preferred coping strategy fits exactly with his society's expectations about how alcoholism works. If Morse is "cured," you don’t need to worry about sparing him the constant offers of alcohol in the same way that the young unwed mother might hope to be spared babies. You certainly wouldn’t embarrass him (especially after he’s been through the humiliation of rehab) by drawing attention in any way to a possible to the idea that he still has a problem. 
And finally, a last note on time context. The scene in the pub where Morse has that first drink after finding out that Joan is marrying Jim is utterly heartbreaking for so many reasons. One of those reasons, however, is that we know it’s the first drink—and that the first drink leads to the second, and so on and so forth. Then Morse says to Thursday, “They said the, the odd beer, the odd shot, does no harm…"Everything in moderation," they said,”  and we automatically assume he’s lying.
I’m fairly sure that those scenes were meant to be interpreted through our modern viewpoint. However, it’s worth noting that again, the model of alcoholism in the 1970s was nothing like what we have today. The idea that someone with a drinking problem/addictions needs to abstain entirely was not even close to universal at that point. It’s perfectly possible that the advice Morse is quoting is the advice he received!
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mrsphillipgraves · 15 hours
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touch starved Phillip Graves x GN!Reader headcanons <3
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he definitely struggles with physical affection at first, you’re the one who initiates physical affection during the start of your relationship, (subtle things, like holding hands, or giving him a pat on the shoulder) even just that is so comforting to him, now imagine when you give him a hug for the first time, I imagine this man hasn’t been hugged properly for years, he would be melting in your touch, he would also be thinking about it and smiling for the next few days.
he would slowly start getting used to it, he would start getting used to you hugging him whenever he’s under a lot of stress, or just simply holding his hand and speaking to him whenever he starts feeling a bit overwhelmed about things
eventually, he finds himself seeking your comfort and affection whenever he’s under any sort of distress, and because of that, he would slowly start feeling more and more comfortable with physical affection, he would be the one initiating the hugs, and trust me, he would be hugging you ALL the damn time, would not be able to catch a break. aside from hugging, he would always be touching you in some way, if you’re sitting together, he most likely has his hand on your shoulder, or resting on your thigh,
when you two are walking together he always has his hand around your waist or is holding your hand tightly. he is also definitely coming up behind you whenever you’re cooking and hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder, and you bet a lot of conversations would happen while he is too.
he is also practically begging you to sit on his lap, he loves it when you rest your head on his chest and lean into him, it makes him feel so at home and comfortable, gives him cuteness aggression towards you too, coming to that, if you’re ticklish, he is 100% tickling you.
he is sitting next to you no matter where y’all are, if you two are somehow not sitting next to eachother, he will come over and sit next to you, he wants to be close to you at all times.
he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck whenever you guys are cuddling, or just hugging, it’s his favorite thing to do, he loves the smell of your perfume too, he loves everything about you at this point.
forehead kisses are a must, he will be giving you forehead kisses whenever, it’s the sweetest thing ever, let’s say he is heading out somewhere, leaving to get groceries? “I’ll be back in a bit sweetheart” (*forehead kiss*)
he’s the type to play with your hair, tucking loose strands in, or just overall running his hands through your hair, he loves the feel of it.
100% kissing your cheek at all times, he loves how soft your cheeks are. Definitely would blush if you kissed him on the cheeks tho, or most importantly pinched his cheeks. Red like a tomato.
this man also 100% likes touching your fingers whenever you hold hands, he is definitely moving his thumb half the time because he loves the feel of your hand wrapping around his, it’s just so sweet to him.
most importantly,
he loves you for who you are, he takes care of you, he protects you, you’re the most valuable person on earth to him, he is always so soft around you, you’re the one person on earth he feels safe around, you’re his home, you mean everything to him.
when Phillip Graves loves, he loves deeply and truly.
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end of post ♡.
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autistpride · 3 days
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Autism Acceptance
Prompt day 7: Performer AU
Word count: 2500
@wolfstarmicrofic
Remus was so excited he couldn’t stand it. He bounced on the balls of his feet and his fists shook up and down. 
“I’d say he likes the gift,” Regulus said to Remus' mum with a laugh.
Remus could see them watching him to make sure he stayed safe as he made his way around the room. He was practically vibrating and he squealed.  
“What did you expect? You just waltz in here and announce that you got Remus a way to meet his favourite people and didn’t think he would happy stim?”
“I knew my brother and his friends were his favourite but I didn’t think he would like it that much,” Regulus shot back with a laugh before his hand shot out as if he could stop Remus from across the room. Both Hope and Regulus gasped.
Remus ran into the table and then the doorway but his squealing and movement didn’t slow.
“He’ll feel that when the excitement wears off,” Hope said with a sigh and Regulus nodded.
Regulus left the Lupin home at the end of the day. Regulus had never realised when he became a personal assistant for the Lupin family, that he would meet someone who would become his friend. Remus was not that much taller than him and he used his communication device for speaking, although he did often express himself with facial expressions and the perfect noise to express his sarcastic attitude. Remus was the master of eye rolls, eyebrow raises, smirks, snorts, and scoffs as well as the ba-dum-tsh and wa wa wa noises. 
Remus’ room was decorated in bright colours and his bed had a tent over it. He needed help with many life skills still, but none of that stopped them from becoming like two peas in a pod. Technically it was frowned upon for Regulus to have developed an attachment to a patient, but Hope and Lyall had confided in him that Remus had come out of his shell and made so much more progress with Regulus as his aid than he had with anyone else.
Remus also had a cutting dark sense of humour. The number of jokes about body bags and comments on eyes honestly bordered on concern to anyone who didn’t understand the way Remus thought. That alone was enough. But then Regulus found out that Remus loved music. And not just any music, a very obscure  small group of people who sang children's songs but in different genres. Hope apologised many times when Remus kept humming the songs while swinging in his hammock chair and yelling in frustration when the older disc would skip or scratch but wouldn’t allow anyone to help him. He listened in his headphones to the same cd anytime he was overwhelmed or tired and so he was often never without the discman. One day when Remus was busy playing in the little pool set up out in the back garden, Regulus opened the old discman and was surprised to see his brother’s face smiling up at him.  
Regulus’ relationship with Sirius was strained after all the things they went through growing up, but when he went home that day, he immediately called Sirius up and asked Sirius to meet him and to work through everything. They went to therapy together and over the months things had improved and while they would always have some hard feelings, they were friends again. So when Remus’ birthday came around that year, Regulus didn’t hesitate to ask Sirius if his friend Remus could meet Sirius. Sirius was confused why Regulus had a friend who liked his music, especially one made for children. After Regulus explained that Remus was autistic, Sirius readily agreed. He even asked what things were sensory triggers for Remus and made a list. He sent Regulus to the Lupin residence that day with the good news and ensured Regulus that he would take care of everything.
The days leading up to Remus’ birthday were long and yet too short for Remus. He was so excited the days seemed to drag on, but with every day that ended Remus would ask Regulus how many more days left. Pressing the buttons for “See friends today?” as a greeting. Regulus would laugh and make some sort of comment about how Regulus “could see where he ranked” or “I see how it is, not even a Hi Reggie.” That always made Remus laugh and he would say hello and then ask again. So Regulus helped him make a small calendar and everyday they would add a sticker to it to help count down the days. 
The night before, Remus swung in his hammock and listened to his discman. Anytime Regulus looked at him, Remus would push a button on his AAC that said, “I’m so excited!” Regulus watched while working on the paperwork for the week and would always respond, “I know. I know. Tomorrow Remus.” 
Remus went to sleep as soon as Regulus left at seven, saying that the faster he went to sleep the faster that it would be the day he met his friends. Then it was tomorrow and Regulus was knocking on the door. Remus opened it and his face dropped and he quickly pressed on his AAC, “its you.” he just held up for Regulus to read. Regulus snorted, “Hi Reggie. Morning.” Remus didn’t laugh this time and he frowned and held up his device again. “Yes, it's just me for now. It’s seven in the morning Remus, they will be here at ten. Okay?” Remus pouted but nodded and immediately went to his timer. Regulus took off his shoes and shut the door before crossing the room making sure Remus put three hours into the timer and set it back onto the shelf to count down.
When the timer went off three hours later Remus threw open the door. Regulus was across the room and dashed to Remus. Remus knew it was because Regulus was worried Remus was going to run into the road, but Remus wouldn't. Remus knew it was to ensure he didn’t leave without someone but it still was annoying that they didn’t trust him. Remus peered out the door to the empty front garden. It was ten. He set a timer. Remus glanced at his AAC. It was actually after ten now! 
“I know you’re excited Remus, but they will knock when they get here,” Regulus said softly when he took in Remus’ dejected expression. Remus nodded disappointed and right before Remus closed the door a small blue Volkswagen parked on the curb. Remus gasped and quickly looked at Regulus who grinned, “Ya thats them.” 
Remus clasped his device to his chest and shook while swaying on his feet and then froze, dropping his AAC when Sirius stepped from the car. This was why Regulus had insisted Remus keep the silicone case around it, even if Remus gnawed on it sometimes. 
Remus held his hand out to Regulus so they could go out the door. Regulus knelt down and picked up the device and took Remus’ hand. Remus squealed and pulled Regulus over the grass to the vehicle and stopped right in front of Sirius. Remus stared at Sirius, unblinking before turning to Regulus and snatching his device from Regulus and quickly finding the buttons he wanted before holding it up to Regulus. 
Regulus read it, looked at Sirius, and burst out laughing, “yes they would be perfect in it.” Remus smirked.
“What?” Sirius asked, confused.
“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Regulus asked.
Remus didn’t wait, he pressed play on his communication device and a slightly robotic male voice read out, “I want to add your eyes to my collection.” 
Regulus couldn’t help laughing at the expression of confusion and slight worry on Sirius’ face followed by James’ as he had stepped out of the driver’s side while all of this was going on.
Remus narrowed his eyes at Regulus who stopped. “Okay okay I’ll get them.”
Sirius’ expression was one of visible panic and Regulus held his phone to Sirius’ face and took a close up picture of Sirius’ eye and then showed it to Remus. “This one good?” He asked and Remus nodded, mouthing the word wow over and over.
Remus knew people thought his fascination with eyes was odd. Many people had said so, thinking that just because he used an AAC device and needed help with everyday tasks, that he was stupid. They talked about him in front of him like he wasn’t there or able to understand the things they were saying. All his past personal assistants had and Remus had decided that if they were going to treat him like that he would just be like that. That’s all they thought he would be, so he stopped trying to show them otherwise. They had treated him like a burden. 
That was until Regulus came along and he took the time to listen to Remus, to understand.
Remus carried Regulus’ phone into the lounge, staring at the picture. Sirius and James looked at each other and Regulus snorted. 
“If you guys want to set up in the lounge, that would be great.” Regulus motioned to the fairly small but tidy lounge. 
Sirius gave Regulus a small hug and then carried his guitar in. James carried an electric drum kit and his sticks. It wasn't the best, but worked in a pinch, and he could turn the sound down so it wouldn’t be as loud. Mary and Lily brought in the keyboard. Regulus took up the rear and closed the door behind them all. 
They all arranged themselves in one area of the lounge. Hope tried to stay out of the way but brought out an extension cord with a power strip for them when they needed to get everything plugged in and they couldn’t all use the one outlet. 
Regulus took his phone back from Remus with the assurance he would print the picture out for Remus so Remus sat in his hammock watching everyone setup and get ready. Regulus held out his headphones and Remus put them on as Mary counted them down and began. 
Remus rocked in his hammock as he listened. After a few songs Lily sang a soft version of happy birthday as Lyall carried out slices of cake for everyone. Remus ate his cake while everyone chatted. He wasn’t often included in group conversations because there were so many people and they talked quickly, not leaving room or time for Remus to use his AAC. 
But Sirius wouldn’t have it. He asked Remus questions or for his thoughts on the topic and waited for Remus to respond.
When the cake was finished, Remus slowly edged his way over to Sirius and gently ran his fingers over the guitar. Remus had watched the way Sirius played. He had this look about it, the same look that Remus felt when he listened to their songs or talked about eyes or cold cases.
“Would you like to try?” Sirius asked next to Remus suddenly and Remus froze as if he was going to be yelled at.
Sirius lifted the guitar off the stand and motioned for Remus to come closer. Remus stayed where he was watching Sirius ready the instrument again. Sirius slowly reached out, giving Remus time to pull away, before gently taking Remus’ hand and placing them on the strings. Remus looked at Sirius and Sirius smiled encouragingly and Remus plucked a string. It vibrated and the sound that it created made Remus so excited he squealed and his hands clenched into fists and shook. 
They continued like this for sometime before Mary and Lily started to pack up. Sirius had James take his guitar out to the vehicle. Sirius then asked Regulus if he could stay longer and Regulus told him to ask Remus. So Sirius did and a shocked Remus nodded happily.
Sirius sat talking to Remus the whole rest of the time Regulus was on his shift. Regulus sat nearby watching while filling out the paperwork he had to do for the week. 
Sirius asked Remus questions. What song did he like best? Did he have a favourite show? What about movies? What other things Remus was interested in. And he answered his own questions back for Remus to know the answers to.
He didn’t shame or judge Remus and when he found out about Remus’ fascination with eyes he asked what about them was so interesting. And Remus told him. 
Remus liked the way the colours in the eyes melted together. He liked how the pupil changes shapes depending on the lighting. But mostly, Remus liked how the eyes held so much depth and emotion. How you could almost see someone's soul when looking at them. 
Sirius stared at Remus like he had just said the most profound things and then begged Remus to let him write that down for him, that it was the most beautiful poetry Sirius had heard. Remus flushed with pride.
When seven pm rolled around, the clock sounded and Regulus started to pack up and put on his shoes when Remus darted to his room. Regulus watched from the lounge, making sure Remus went to his room and not out the door to the back garden and when the door slammed closed and Regulus sighed. 
Sirius looked shocked and concerned, “Hey what happened?”
“He likely got upset you’re leaving. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.”
Remus laid on his bed with the door to his tent closed and the blanket over his head. Remus heard the knock and ignored it. Sirius opened it and poked his head in. “Hey. I’m going to come in and just sit here okay. Regulus is in the lounge if you want me to get him.”
Remus bit his nails and picked the skin on his lips before eventually unzipping the tent. Remus looked out at Sirius who was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and Remus’ AAC in his hands. Sirius looked up from his phone and smiled. “Hey, it's okay to be upset, especially when meeting new people and when having a lot of new experiences going on. And because the fun day is over.”
Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew it was okay, it didn't mean it didn’t suck that the best day of his life was ending and he would never see his new friend again. 
Sirius laughed and held his phone up to Remus’ face, causing Remus to flinch. Sirius took a quick photo and then turned it to show Remus. “I think your eyes are stunning too.” 
Remus smiled. Sirius pressed a few buttons on the AAC before holding it out to Remus. Remus played it, “see friend Sirius tomorrow?” 
Remus beamed and nodded enthusiastically. 
“I'll see you tomorrow Remus,” Sirius said brightly and waved goodbye before leaving the room and the house.
Remus couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
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QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 3
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Claude propaganda:
"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"
"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.
His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.
His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.
And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."
Milo propaganda:
“they were in the last contest sure but i feel like they could get farther. like they're literally a nonbinary grim reaper that's also an influencer and sure sometimes the influencer stuff can get kinda overwhelming i feel like it's very clear that they care about you and want to be around you. you guys go on a reaping date. their eyes and nail colour change based on their mood too and i think it's a really cute detail!! also SLIGHT SPOILERS but they even reference rocky horror in their special ending. they are perfect to me and i love them and i believe they deserve a second chance <3”
"Vote for Milo because they deserve it
They're literally so attractive
- They are a social media influencer
- They are obsessed with an adorable little kitty and will do everything in their power to make this cat the most beloved creature in existence
- They love makeovers and helping their friends rebrand (this includes working with Damien and the PC to help Jerry the Murderer rebrand so that they really has a brand identity)
- They are a grim reaper and even help the PC plan the PC's own funeral (special ending) and they give a great speech and it's super sweet
- They will sometimes take the PC on reaping jobs with them and shenanigans ensues
So in summation, vote for Milo because, as I repeat, they deserve it"
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