swept to the side

  • invite: casual
  • me: fur coats over lingerie, lip gloss, jerry hall side-swept hair, sequins, gold lamé turbans, patti hearst symbionese liberation army gear, rogue, rollerina chic, sheer harem pants, mini skirts and muscular legs, platinum records as head gear, sequins, grace jones butch realness, gloss-y skin, bleached eyebrows, slits, riding in on a white horse, sequins, sky high stilettos, mirrored aviators, metal mesh, cowl neckline halters, or eyes of laura mars chic. no flat shoes. no matte surfaces. no natural looks.

Nothing’s more beautiful than Yuuri’s smile…

Get u a man who looks at you like Phichit looks at Yuuri…

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The artist also appreciates if ship bashing can be kept out of the comments/tags. Don’t like, just skip <3 Thank you.

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PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. More detailed rules available on my Rules & FAQ Post.

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MORE OF MY YOI ART HERE.

Learning To Share - Stilinski Triplets [Smut] (Part One)

Author: @writing-obrien 

Character(S): Thomas/Reader, Stiles/Reader, Stuart/Reader 

Word Count: 5249 

Notes: Multiple Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Foursome, Oral (all receiving), Exibitionism, Drug Use. I hope y'all like this, so here’s your surprise fic guys, and thanks to @stilinski-jpeg for her unwavering support here and all the help she gave me. 



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watch me talk about shark emojis 🦈

a realistic Friend. looks like it might be a lil distracting in a text but hes doing the best he can. 10/10 a good friend.

hes seen some shit. his eyes are narrowed bc the demons of his past are chasing him. a good blue friend, wise but probably quiet and has a lot of secrets under his fin. 9/10 a wise man.

he is trying his best, too big of lines but its not his fault. his teeth are gone, poor baby. 6/10 this friend needs help.

a stunning lady. a beautiful lady. her dorsal fin is elegantly swept to the side. her mouth is red and stunning. shes beautiful. 9/10 a beautiful lady.

a small friend who wants to make a difference in emojis. very beautiful, strong, but a bit lost in his life. i will guide him. 10/10 a small and compact friend.

this lady has had enough. shes done. shes seen shit. not just scary shit but some Bullshit. shes done and i love her. her teeth are big just like her heart. 8/10 tired but good lady.

did emojipedia really copy and paste a real shark pic but tried to make it look small and blurred for an emoji. why would u do this to this poor friend. he was real but now he’s smalll and trapped. 6/10 free my friend.

this guy will steal ur lunch money. he’ll kick ur sandbox. he’ll fight u. dont mess with this man. 6/10 scary man.

is this friend ok. is he going to attack or is he gasping for breath. help my friend. i worry for him is he alright. 5/10 this friend is sad.

2

Percy smiled at her - that sarcastic troublemaker smile that had annoyed her for years but eventually had become endearing. His sea-green eyes were as gorgeous as she remembered. His dark hair was swept to one side, like he’d just come from a walk on the beach. He looked even better than he had six months ago - tanner and taller, leaner and more muscular.

repercussions : ceo!tom imagine {part i}

Summary: Your hookup from last night was now standing in front of you as your boss (ft. CEO!Tom)

Requested?: Yes !

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, CEO!Tom

Author’s Note: I had so many Grey’s Anatomy vibes while writing this so I actually re-watched the first episode…Lord help me. Part 2?


As your eyes shot open, a deep sleep being disturbed by the fluttering of your phone alarm across the room, your eyes tried to adjust to the bright rays of early sunlight filtering through the light curtains adorning your bedroom windows. You almost forgot about the stranger lying next to you, his face buried in the pillow drowning out his soft snores. You watched his back rise and relax through his deep breaths, clearly unfazed by your alarm that was still chirping.

You removed the comforter and sheets that were draped over your pantless body, only clad in a shirt you assumed belong to the man that resided next to you. You swung your legs softly off of the bed, careful not to shift the bed too much. You crept over to your phone that was perched on top of your dresser, rapidly pressing the button that would stop the alarming sounds. You unlocked your phone and scrolled through the notifications you had received over the course of the night, your back facing the bed. A new notification popped up, ‘NEW JOB TODAY !!! 9 A.M.’  You checked the time, thankful it was only 7:00 a.m. meaning you had some spare time to get ready and put more effort into the look. Your attention was caught as you heard the man still behind you clear his throat, making you turn around quickly.

“Well, this is quite the view to wake up to, darling,” his voice was coated in a morning rasp, and it made his accent much thicker. It made your stomach flip as you took in the nickname, gaining some memories of the names he had used for you last night sending a blush up to your cheeks. You forgot he had an accent. Hell, you struggled relentlessly to remember his name. You cleared your throat as well, setting your phone back on the dresser.

“Uh, yeah, hey, good morning…” you began, mentally kicking yourself for already forgetting his name. He noticed you were having difficulty and took amusement in it. He sat himself up in the bed, leaning back on his palms that rested slightly behind him, showing off his very toned torso.

“It’s Tom. Thought you would at least know that from as often as you screamed it last night.. Tell me, Y/N,” he put an emphasis on your name as he smirked, clearly remembering yours, “is your throat feeling sore from all the screaming? Or perhaps su-”

“Ok, ok, I remember now, thanks for the refresher course!” You tried to shush him, your hand waving along with your words, his crude comments much too much for you to handle this early in the morning. “I have to get ready for work now, it’s my first day, and I’m sure you have a job to attend to as well,” you tried to reason with him, eager to get him out of your apartment. Your head was starting to pick up an aching feeling, and you said a quick prayer your hangover would be merciful for your first day of work.


Your mind flashed back to the night came to end only merely a few hours ago. The club you went to was up the street from your apartment, and you were eager to get out of the cramped space. Your intentions were only to get a drink or two, just to ease the nerves that racked your body that followed the anticipation of your new job beginning tomorrow. As you traced the edge of your freshly mixed Cosmopolitan, surveying the bodies that packed the small club, a man took a seat on the barstool standing next to you. You briefly shifted your eyes to look at who was occupying the seat next to you. However, his eyes were already wandering over you. You were clad in a tight black shirt that hung off of the shoulders and a simple pair of high waisted jeans accompanied by a simple pair of black heels. You turned your head to look at him properly after realizing his attention was already on you.

You first noticed his piercing eyes. They were a deep auburn, flecked with golden sparks towards the center. They were furrowed into a hungry look, as if they were consuming the sight of you. His hair was styled almost too perfectly. His what seemed like brunette curls were swept to the side taming them to a wavy state. A crisp white button down and a black tie complimented his fair skin. He leaned over in his seat until his face was in close proximity to you, sending confusion throughout your mind.

“Excuse me if this is a bit forward, but ever since I saw you walk through those doors, I’ve been planning on leaving with you on my arm,” his voice spoke just loud enough to be heard over the thumping music, an English accent ringing clearly. You raised an eyebrow at his confession, leaning back a bit on your stool. However, the alcohol buzzing through you was enough to guide your confidence.

“Buy me another drink, and we’ll see how well your plan works.”


“Actually, yes I do, love. Thanks for the reminder, by the way, may I have my shirt back?” He motioned to the shirt that hung off of your body, barely covering your bum all the way and reaching only the top half of your thighs. You nodded in cooperation.

“Well, yeah of course, it is your shirt..Let me just go change in the bathroom,” you spoke, pointing to the bathroom door that was slightly ajar. You reached for one of the drawers of your dresser, opening it in search of a t- shirt and a pair of shorts. As you pursed the clothing items, Tom interrupted you.

“I think we went way past that stage, I mean you could just strip here,” his words stringing along a nonchalant tone. You turned around to face him, crossing your arms. He shrugged his shoulders in response before lifting himself out of the bed. His boxers were the only article of clothing that stuck to his body. His eyes scanned the room in search of his pants and shoes and other various items. You watched his movements, not budging. He gathered up his items that were strewn across your bedroom, cradling them in his arms. You did your best to divert your attention away from his lower torso and boxers as he approached you. He stood in front of you, his eyes lowering to scan your body. His hand came up to your neck, sweeping away the hair that had fallen over it carelessly, a smug look crossing his lips.

“Might want to cover these up, doll,” his accent adding a new element to the pet name that tumbled from his mouth. Your hand reached up instinctively to the area he was referring to and whipped your body around to face the mirror attached to your dresser, uncovering your hand to see what he was talking about. Deep purple marks littered the side of your neck, some of them darker than others. A gasp left your mouth at the sight that could’ve been resembled a crime scene.


You could suddenly feel the pressure and sensation of his lips pressing into your sensitive skin, teeth occasionally nipping at the skin above your collarbones. He had you pressed against one of your bedroom walls, the back of your head was rested against the wall firmly. One of his hands gripped your waist tightly and the other was wrapped around the back of your neck, enabling him to move your head to allow him access to the surface of your skin that was now peppered with goosebumps and traces of his lips.

You entangled your hands into his hair, desperate for more attention elsewhere from his mouth. Your hands pulled his head up by his hair, his teeth now gripping onto his bottom lip. His hands were now both stuck to your waist.

“Need more, princess?” His voice rasped out, and you, unable to form words, only replied with a nod.

“I need to hear you, tell me what you want,” he commanded, his hands roaming behind you to grip your ass in his hands, he squeezed roughly, making you stand up straighter.

“I n-need your mouth, please.”

“Please, what?” He dropped to his knees. His hands reaching for the button that secured your jeans, undoing it slowly. He pulled the jeans down torturously slow, slipping them down to around your ankles and you kicked them off impatiently, leaving you in your underwear. His fingertips traced the outline of your clothed core, only increasing the wetness that had gathered there. He looked up at you and halted his actions making you groan. “What’s the proper way to ask me, pretty girl?”

“Please, sir.” The two words fell from your lips in desperation, eager for him to bring you to a release from all the frustration that had build up over the time spent with him. “Please,” you moaned out, his fingers now massaging over the damp barely-there underwear covering you.

“Good girl,” he praised. He allowed himself to hook his fingers into the sides your panties and pull them down, sending anticipation through your body. You kicked them out of the way, hands tangling into his hair. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh before tapping your calf, gesturing for you to spread your legs a bit more. As you did so, he brought up a finger to your wetness, running a finger along your slit teasingly. Before you could plead for him to do more, he brought his head forward and ran his tongue over the pattern his finger had previously traced. His tongue moved upwards, his lips now sucking slightly on your clit. As he did so, he brought his finger back to your opening and slipped it in, pumping at a teasingly slow pace. You groaned at the mix of pleasure brought from his finger and his tongue, but desired more.

“Sir, I need more, please fuck me,” you moaned out, voice trembling. He added another finger and began moving them at a faster rate in and out of you. He admired your wetness that came from his actions and continued to use his tongue to lap at your clit. He ignored your request for a moment and continued his actions before pulling away completely, procrastinating your closeness to a release.

“Bed now, hands and knees, baby girl.”


“Oh, my, god! Tom! What the fuck? How am I supposed to cover these up?” Your voice was laced with utter panic and irritation at his markings. You turned to face him, his infamous smirk lingering on his face.

“Where exactly are you working?” He asked, a somewhat sincere tone ringing out. His hands reached forward to unbutton the shirt of his you had borrowed for the night. You didn’t stop him, just wanting to get all of this over. ‘What gives, I’m not even going to see him again,’ you reminded yourself.

“Holland Corporations, it’s at the main office and they said I’d be meeting with the CEO today and it just rattled my nerves even more,” you informed him. His fingertips were still fumbling with the buttons. As he reached the last button, he admired the way the shirt barely covered your breasts, revealing the body he had spent all night worshipping. He also took note of the faint bruises that littered your hips, from his hands nonetheless. He kept the observation to himself as he listed to your words.

As you mentioned your new workplace, his eyes shot up to yours. An intrigued look sparked behind his eyes.

“What’s that look for?” You questioned him, turning to face away from him as you let the shirt drop off your body. You quickly put on the other shirt you had pulled out from the dresser. You spun back around to look at him.

“Nothing, darling. It’s just I work there too,” he said it in an unreadable tone. “I don’t think Mr. Holland will mind the marks.” He bent down to pick up his shirt, his lips trying to suppress the grin that was growing on his face. You ignored Tom’s sudden weirdness and put your palm up to your forehead.

“Oh my god, I’ve already slept with someone I work with,” you groaned. What a wonderful start. “Whatever, you should just go, I have to get ready,” you spoke quickly. You pushed him towards the bedroom door, a confused look crossing his face, his clothes still bunched in his arms. He tried to speak, but you cut him off again. “Bye, Tom!” As soon as he was out of the room, you shut the door. You hurried into the bathroom to shower and get out the door as quickly as you could.

After taking the necessary steps to get yourself ready, adding an extra bit of makeup to start off the first day, you gathered your things and headed out the front door. You went through mentally how to keep yourself composed when facing your new boss.

You took the short commute from your apartment complex to the rather intimidatingly large skyscraper that was at least twenty stories. As you stood outside the revolving doors, you took a deep breath before stepping into them. Your heels clicked along the tile once you stepped foot onto the white marble floors. You admired the minimalist theme that decorated the interior of the building. You looked down at your phone, searching for the email that contained instructions to navigate your way to your first meeting with the CEO, your boss. You would be working directly with him, an assistant in a way, but almost as an advisor for him to look to for opinions on important matters. You hadn’t met him yet, only interviewed with members on the board of directors that felt you would be an excellent asset to the company.

You followed the simple instructions to get to Mr. Holland’s office: take the elevator to the 22nd floor, exit and turn left, follow the hallway all the way to the end, take a right, and the doors to his office would be right there. You were surprised there wasn’t another receptionist up there, just lots of other presumably smaller offices.

Upon reaching Mr. Holland’s office doors, you straightened out the dark red skirt that was clung to your lower half, reaching just above your knees. You stood up taller and knocked out the door firmly.

“Just a minute,” a voice called out from behind the doors. A voice that sounded almost too familiar. Only a couple moments passed before you heard the shuffling of papers and the squeak of chair wheels skidding across the floor. You took a step back, and soon enough the door was being swung open, causing your jaw to drop, a gasp falling from your mouth. 

“Ah, Y/N. I’ve been expecting you, come in,” Tom spoke, a visible look of utter disbelief on your face. A suit now adorned the body you had slept with last night and into the early hours of this morning. You stood frozen in your spot as Tom turned to walk back into the office.

“Oh my god, when you said you worked here…you meant..”

“Yeah, I meant I own the whole company. Something to that effect. Anyways, come in, darling, let’s go over your agenda,” his back was to you as he spoke. He arrived to his oversized black desk, taking a seat in the leather chair. You however, stood still planted in your original position. You shook your head, unable to form a word. As Tom noticed you hadn’t followed him, he smirked at you. “Cat got your tongue?”

“This is clearly a joke, you think I’d work here now after sleeping with you? What does that say about me?” An edge was present in your tone, taking Tom by surprise. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, I’m just going to head out.” You turned on your heel and started back down the excessively long hallway. Your action caused Tom to hurry out of his seat, rushing out of his office to bring you back in.

“Y/N! Come here, please,” he yelled out at you. You turned around to face him, shaking your head fiercely.

“Hell no, I can’t believe you’d think I’d take this job now. I had no idea who you were last night and if I did it would’ve never-” you began. However, during your little rant he sped walked over to you, grabbing your arm once he reached you. His employees in the smaller offices had now gained an interest in your conversation and Tom noticed this.

“My office, now,” he spoke through gritted teeth, releasing your arm. You rolled your eyes and stomped behind him to his office. Your heels let out a loud sound that echoed throughout the hallway. Once the two of you entered the office, he turned and locked the door.

“Seriously, Tom. You’re delusional-”

“What happened to Sir? It seemed to be a pretty common thing tumbling from those pretty lips of yours last night.” He had a habit of cutting you off today. You rolled your eyes again, irritated with his attitude. He stood in front of you, your arms crossed in front of your chest, hand still holding your purse. He reached forward and took the purse from your hand, making you protest, but he shushed you. You groaned and went and stood by his desk, further away from him. He set your purse down on a table near the door and made his way over to you, adjusting the cuffs of his button up.

“Listen, I’m serious, Tom. I quit. Why the fuck wouldn’t you have said anything as soon as I mentioned it this morning? I’m not going to start a job this way,” you huffed, arms still crossed. Without a word, Tom walked over to you, eyes never leaving yours. As he got closer, you felt your heart speed up. He was wearing the same cologne he wore the night before, a scent that drove you to intoxication. You tried to push away the thoughts of inhaling that while your head was buried in his neck while he pounded into you the night before. Once he got to you, he leaned forward and pressed his hands to either side of the desk, entrapping you beneath him.

“I should’ve said something this morning, you’re right. But that doesn’t change anything,” he argued. It was hard to focus on everything he was saying since he was still hovering above you.

“I-I don’t care, we shouldn’t do this, it’s w-wrong.”

“Darling, the only thing that’s wrong right now is all the thoughts running through my mind about fucking you against this desk until you decide to stay.”


tag list: tag list: @curly-haired-crisp @babyparker @@melaniemypotato@thedaesies @spideypnw@gentlethunderstorm@villagecrazypeggy @spideytattoo@ladyrevealedofcloak @danceoff-bro @milkcroissant @lipkits@gray-rose13@bisexualmomfriend @t-eleanor @i-alm0st-d0@ttholland

Singapore Sling

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Rating: NC-17

Character count: 35,696 / Word Count: 6,521

Your duties as maid of honour were fairly simple: maximise alcohol and minimise stress, keep an eye on the bride-to-be, and above all else, have things under control. You’ve promised yourself to keep this wedding a fuckup-free zone, anticipating smooth sailing from the moment you land in Antigua. When danger emerges on the horizon in the form of a denim-clad devil dressed in Gucci and gold, things take a turn—nothing in the MOH handbook has prepared you for what to do in the event that you unwittingly sleep with the best man.

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book ends — p.p. au

summary : there’s a little bookstore on the corner of a street in manhattan, and when peter parker gets a job there he’s not really expecting to fall head over heels for the cashier in charge — you. just your typical bookstore au, where peter isn’t spider-man.

word count : 3.4k

author’s note : i love this so much i’m nUTTING this is literally my pride and joy i’m gonna weep okay i know it’s long but literally my favorite thing ever okay i love you

gif credit : @hllands (sorry for not including it before, was not aware you made it and i did not mean to discredit you work in any way)

   A piece of white copy paper, written on in bold red ink and stuck to the front of the antiquated bookshop’s front door, is gleaming in the streams of sunlight that beat down upon it as Peter Parker makes his way down the busy street. He’s not usually one to spend much time in the city itself, only because of the unruly train schedule and the way that May worries herself if Peter isn’t home at precisely the time he said he would be. With the trains, you can never be positive that you’ll be getting to where you need to be in the estimated amount of time it says on the google, so he tries to never linger in Manhattan for longer than he has to. 

   However, it’s a Saturday, and he’s trying to figure out who will hire him despite his somewhat young age of only fifteen and his minimal work experience- which is to say, no work experience. He’s not even sure how jobs work, to be quite honest, but he needs to start pulling his weight around the house even if May insists that she’s doing just fine on her own. He sees her stress about the bills nearly every week, sitting at the kitchen table with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose and her glasses slipping down her face as she punches numbers into a calculator with the other hand. He sees the little exasperated sighs and the worry lines that she’s far too young to have and so Peter decides that he’s going to get a proper part time job in order to help her out. 

   It’s the least he can do; she’s taken him into her little apartment and treated him the way a mother would a son. She pretty much was his mother. And if he had to get a job to repay her for everything she does for him, he would do so without complaints. Which led him here, standing in front of the little bookshop on the corner that seemed to be empty save for someone sitting atop the counter beside the register, from what he could see as he peers into the dusty, sun streaked window. 

   The aforementioned piece of paper that’s been strategically placed smack in the middle of the front door- you can’t miss it if you’re trying to enter the shop- has the words NOW HIRING: INQUIRE WITHIN scrawled on it in letters to bold to be ignored. Peter pretty much has to walk in, the quaint little store is calling to him and he turned down this particular street for a reason. He believes in the whole everything happens for a reason type of ideal, the coincidences and the little things in life that were such blatant, blaring signs that Peter would be a complete moron not to listen to them. So, he sweeps his gaze over the sign one final time and then pushes the door open, the tiny bell atop the door jingling in a quiet but melodious way as he enters. He shuts the door softly behind him, then takes a long look across the stores. 

    There are books stacked in irregular ways next to shelves and on windowsills and next to the front door. The ones placed among the main window like an enticing display are anachronistic, perfectly classic; weathered and yellowed from their ripe old age and collecting dust like there’s no tomorrow. Peter supposes that might be part of the charm of the store; to make everything look old so that the hipsters flock to it, bees to honey or birds to breadcrumbs. But really, it’s the emptiest store he’s ever been in aside from his nearest CVS Pharmacy at eleven o’clock at night to pick up gummy bears for May when she was craving them that one time last week. He walks further into the store and sweeps his hand along the row of the new releases, the ones he figures people would be the most interested in.  

   You tilt your head to the left curiously, watching the boy with the nicely side swept hair and the gray sweater examine shelf after shelf, and he’s all careful hands and scrutinizing eyes and he’s pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he reads the back of a novel from the newer shelves and runs his fingers along the smooth spine of it and you have to admit, there’s a quite real possibility that he is, in fact, one of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen. Rarer still, he’s pretty much the only undeniably attractive boy to walk into this bookshop; the others were well under the age of twelve and hadn’t come looking for books willingly, they had been dragged in by excited mothers and begrudging older sisters. You shift from your position on the counter, your thumb holding your place in your book as you lean froward to continue examining the brunette whose eyes were glued to the shelves in front of him. 

    You slide off the counter and your shoes land on the wooden floor with a soft thump that makes Peter’s gaze shoot up in surprise, the description on the back of the novel in his hand forgotten. The book he’s holding drops to the floor as you make your way over to him, weaving through the maze of shelves like you’ve been doing it all your life before coming to stand in front of him. 

   “I’m supposed to ask if you need help with something,” you explain, brushing your hair out of the way so you can tap on the name tag hanging from your shirt. Y/N. “But you look like you’re fine over here. Unless you do need help…” You trail off a bit, hopeful that he does indeed need your assistance today because no, you don’t really have to ask him if he needs anything, you just kind of want to. Peter nods vigorously, bending down to pick up the book he’s let fall to the floor and shoving it back into place. 

   “UH- yeah yeah no I need help,” he says quickly, placing his hands into his pockets and thinking to himself yeah Peter, help with your inept social ability is what you need. Damn it. “I’m, um, I’m Par- no, no, I’m Peter Parker, not Parker Peter. That wouldn’t sound right. I keep doing that, sorry,” his face goes red as he grows more and more flustered. You watch him with thinly veiled amusement before grinning and sticking your hand out for him to shake. 

   “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Peter Parker, not Parker Peter,” you press your lips together to stop yourself from laughing, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He releases a little breath, shakes his head at himself, then matches your handshake. You turn toward the shelf he’s been staring at for the past seventeen minutes, and it’s your favorite section: young adult. “So… what’d ya need? I’m kind of an expert around these shelves,” you motion at the books. 

   Peter tries to ignore the sweaty feeling on his palms where he shook our hand. “Oh, well actually, I saw that you guys were hiring and I- I need, you know, a job thing. I can do whatever,” he adds, eyes widening when he realizes that he needs to sound more qualified than he does. “You know, I like, read and whatnot… I can count money? I know how to put things in alphabetical order…” 

   “So, uh, basic human skills then?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. He runs a hand through his hair, giving a nervous laugh. All right, so he was pretty fucking cute. You had to give him the job. You’d be mad not to. You pretend to think about this, then you take him by the sleeve of his sweater and lead him to the register as you slip behind the counter. “Kidding. Don’t look so nervous. I’m like the least intimidating person ever.” I beg to differ. Peter’s hands twist the hem of his shirt around. “You’re hired. Fill this out and you can start Monday. I’ll let the boss know.” You hand him an application form and smile at him, his nerves dissipating as quickly as they came when he saw you. Your fingers trace over the cover of your book out of habit, and his eyes follow the cover. 

   “You sure your boss will be okay with you hiring a kid with no work experience whatsoever and bad social skills?” He asks, grabbing a pen off the cup beside your register as you shrug. 

   “The boss is my mom so… I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine,” you lift yourself back onto the countertop so you can peer down at him as he begins filling out the application right then and there. “Benjamin. That’s nice. I like it.” You point to where he’s scrawled his middle name in terribly messy handwriting. 

   “Yeah? Thank you,” he smiles back at you, but it’s soft and it’s sad even though he knows you couldn’t possibly have any inclination as to who he was named after. Swift to change the subject, Peter lets his pen rest against the paper and grabs the book lying next to you on the counter. “The Night Circus. What’s this about? Any good?” 

    He flips it over so he can read the back of it, the cover a shining black and red that he can’t help but run his hand over because it’s smooth and surprisingly nice to touch. You can’t help the way you light up inside when he asks you about your book. People never took much interest in what you read, and your friends had a habit of teasing you about your intense reading habits since no one else enjoyed it quite as much as you did. “Yeah! Yeah I love it so far, it’s about magicians and stuff but… way more complicated than that. Really good though. It’s right over by where you were looking earlier.” You point in the vague direction, but Peter is aware of what section you’re referring to. “I kind of just grab the books off the shelf sometimes and take ‘em home. My mom doesn’t really notice and there’s not that many people who come in here anyway so I have a big collection at home.”

   “That’s awesome!” Peter genuinely grins at you, chin perched in his hand as he hands you back the book. “When you’re done, d’you think I could borrow it? So we can have something to talk about during work. Plus it sounds interesting.” The smile you give him, absolutely radiant, is indescribably beautiful in Peter’s eyes and he watches you disappear for a moment only to return with a shiny, new copy of the book sitting on the counter. 

   “Mom doesn’t check,” you say again, your face heating up when your fingers brush against his in the exchange of the book. “Gonna warn you, though, I’ll be done by the end of the weekend, so don’t expect me to have the same book come your first day of work.” 

   Peter opens the first page. “Whatcha gonna be reading on Monday, then?” 

   You meet his eyes for a split second. Warm, watchful, careful eyes. Eyes that you could definitely see yourself falling for. “I’ll let you know.” 


   He’s indubitably happy for the rest of the weekend. He bounces his knee whilst on the train ride home, he grins to himself alone in his room as he lies on his back and holds the book above him so he can read by lamplight, and when he sits down to dinner with May he keeps blushing for no apparent reason as he eats boxed macaroni and cheese that May insists she could make from scratch if she really tried. 

  “You’re awfully happy tonight,” she remarks, taking a bite of the Kraft dinner and surveying her nephew carefully. “Anything special happen today in the city?”

 Peter shrugs nonchalantly, trying to play it off as if it were nothing special, but he knows that you’re special, and he’s only known you for maybe an hour and he had forgotten to ask for your number like the clueless idiot he was more often than not. Didn’t matter, though, because he was sure that he could get it on Monday when he headed over at noon. Thank the Gods for summer vacation. “Oh, um, nothing really,” he says, trying, and failing, to contain his excitement. “I just got a job and I met a girl and I like her already and now we work together and we’re gonna talk about books all the time and I’m really excited because I start Monday and she gave me a book and we’re gonna talk about it and I might fall in love with her but I don’t know yet but there’s a very strong possibility of that happening and I’m really really happy right now but that’s it no big deal you know?” 

   May blinks. Peter often goes off on tangents when he’s overly enthusiastic, or when he’s nervous. But she reaches across the table and squeezes his hand tightly. “Let me know when you’re positive that you’re gonna fall in love with her, because I’d like to stamp my approval on this one. I’m happy for you Peter.” May pauses, then says, “Don’t even think about giving me your paycheck.” 

   “May!” 


    Every morning from Monday on consists of Peter arriving at work with a cup of coffee in his hand, iced coffee because it’s summertime and there’s a Dunkin Donuts on every corner of New York City, promptly at twelve to see you sitting in your usual position with a book in your hand. You read rather quickly, and Peter can hardly catch up with the five books you go through each week, but he tries since he needs to be able to talk to you about something. After sometime, though, you start talking about things other than books. There’s science, and math, art, and school, and your parents and his Uncle Ben, and May, and anything and everything you can think of. But your day always starts the same. 

   Peter, walking in with his coffee in hand and a lanyard slung around his neck, his little ID picture adorably dorky because he’s half blinking but still smiling. He slides another coffee across the counter toward you- he eventually received your number that same Monday morning he started working there and then texted you asking for your usual order. Sometimes he gets you a donut, too, if you ask him. Then, he starts sorting through the new orders that have just come in, stacking them alphabetically of course (it was one of his special skills, after all) and calls across the store, “Whatcha reading today, Y/N?” And you’ll yell back the answer, typically a different one every two days, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and marks the title on a list of what he has to read. He refuses to read Game of Thrones, insisting the show was much easier for him to follow. You practically threw a fit when you found out he hadn’t finished the Harry Potter series, so that was at the very top of his list and he came in this particular morning with a copy of the third book sitting in his shoulder bag. 

   “Morning, Peter,” you call out happily, not looking up from the pages of The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater when the bell overhead the door sings out an announcement of his arrival. You hold out your hand for your drink, and it lands there without hesitation. 

   “Good morning,” he grins back, pushing up your hand to see the cover of your book properly. “Whatcha reading today?” He looks up at you expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. You place your bookmark in your book and hand it over to him, kicking your feet back and forth. “Should I add this one to the list, too?” 

   “Yes!” You exclaim, waiting for him to be finished with the first page. “But don’t you dare read anything on it before you read Harry Potter, got it, Parker?” The warning is so playful it makes Peter laugh before he nods, taking his spot behind the register this time. You have to write up the chalkboard signs for outside the store, and it’s been agreed that you have the prettier handwriting out of the two of you. “My mom thinks you’re doing a good job helping me out,” you mention casually after a few minutes of comfortable silence, your tongue between your lips as you slowly begin drawing a purple stack of books on the chalkboard stand. 

   “Really?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. He didn’t do much around the store, to be quite honest, mostly because he never worked the register. Even if he did, the way you did every day, there weren’t many customers that came in. You received more online orders than anything else. “I’m not even really sure why you hired me in the first place, honestly. I wasn’t qualified, like, at all, Y/N.” He laughs again, he’s always laughing with you. 

   You purse your lips, the pink chalk in your hand hovering over the book you were attempting to illustrate properly. There were a lot of ways you could reply to this. There was the risky way. There was the safe way. There was the in between sort of way. After an internal debate, you say, “Well, what can I say? I have a penchant for looking at pretty things, and, um, you’re not bad to look at, Peter. For a boy, you’re kind of pretty.” You don’t look at him when you say it, but he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. It’s the look of a boy falling in love for the first time. You can feel it in the heat in your stomach when you finally turn around to face him, standing up and brushing chalk dust off your jeans as he contains to gaze at you with that soft air about him. “What?” You lightly shove his arm. 

   “Wh- what? I mean, um, nothing, uh, nothing.” Peter runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully gelled way he does his hair every morning for work. “Absolutely nothing.” His face is burning red, eyes trained on the register like it’s the only thing he can look at without fainting, and there’s a trace of a smile on his lips but he doesn’t want to show it just yet. 

    You lean against the counter. In his peripheral vision, he notices the tiny smirk playing at the corner of your mouth, a smirk bordering on something gentler and kinder than you desired it to. Arms folded across your chest, staring at him hard. Your smile is burning as bright as the spring sunshine in April after a particularly hard day of rain the day previously, but he’s still not looking at you, so you say, “Did we just reach the part in the young adult contemporary novel where you start falling in love with me?” You see his hand freeze atop the register, and he can feel the way his cheeks are glowing too red to be blamed on the heat of the summer. “You know, I bet we did.” You move to make your way to the front of the store, but Peter turns around just in time to grab your hand and pull you into him.  

   His fingers smoothly slip through yours. “If we did, that’d be okay, right? You wouldn’t mind your love interest being… all me-like?” The self doubt is always so clear with him, but you bring yourself closer still with a shake of your head. 

   “You’d make a great love interest,” you reply softly.  

    The taste of cold coffee from Dunkin Donuts lingers on his lips when he kisses you for the first time that day, the coffee that he dumps copious amounts of sugar packets into because he can’t stand the bitterness but wants to keep drinking it. The coffee he loves despite the odd looks he receives from passerby that can’t help but stare at the boy with messy hair and a lanyard around his neck and bright eyes who keeps ripping open packs of sugar at the counter and pouring them in. You’ve loved cold coffee already, but you love it a little more now that there’s a new way of tasting it, and the next day when he walks into your little bookshop you’re the one with mouth that tastes like his morning pick me up- and neither of you have ever been more grateful for books in your life. 

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Your Moon & Expression of Art

☾ I’ve always connected one’s moon sign with their creative preferences because emotions in art are ever-present. I am in no way suggesting that your moon is the only aspect in your chart that you should look to in order to understand your creative drive, although I definitely think that it is important regardless. ☽

Originally posted by ofallingstar

Aries Moon: Starts many projects, has trouble actually finishing them. This is because new ideas are always coming to them and they are afraid to lose that initial inspiration. Likely to use bold color palettes; wants their work to make a big statement. They are not afraid to take risks and try things that may not work out. They may use art in order to cope with their often intense emotional patterns. If you really pay attention, you can see these feelings come to life in their art. 

Taurus Moon: They find comfort in knowing that their passion for art is always something that they can go back to; it is stable. Likely to stick to neutral, soft color palettes. They don’t want to overpower their works with bold patterns and shades. They prefer to portray their message with subtlety. They tend to spin situations around in their works in order to make them more beautiful/appealing to the viewer. They are able to take negative experiences in their life and make them into something tangible.

Gemini Moon: Mercurial moons tend to have a diverse portfolio. One may call it “organized chaos.” Like the Aries moon, they tend to be on the more daring side. They are usually self-taught and have little regard for traditional techniques in whatever medium they practice. They can take inspiration from anywhere and their work can be difficult to decipher without a proper explanation from the artist; this is because they can take multiple ideas and memories and apply them to their designs without even realizing it.

Cancer Moon: Applying emotions to their art is the top priority. If they are not able to channel specific feelings while they are painting, drawing, etc, then it is almost impossible for them to get fully immersed in their work; they often enjoy playing music while they are working in order to help this process along. Their projects have a strong nostalgic quality to them. They are able to draw people in to their world without explaining anything in words. 

Leo Moon: The messages in their art are very specific to their own lives, but they love to share it with everyone. Even if not many people can relate to their work, they tend to admire it regardless. In general, fire moons tend to gravitate towards warm colors and Leo is no different in this case. They enjoy and seek out praise for their projects, so they may enter in competitions and participate in showcases in order to establish a name for themselves in the community.

Virgo Moon: They usually have a set place and time that they like to do their work. However, their workspace is most definitely evident of a busy artist. They tend to put pictures, posters, articles, etc. on the walls in order to get inspiration. The messages in their art tend to be quite complex because they love to make people think about what they were trying to say. Most of them actually prefer to sketch here and there rather than commit to a large project.

Libra Moon: Instead of trying to make others guess what they were trying to say with their work, the Libra moon would rather be purposely relational. In fact, they want people to connect with their pieces and understand what the intent was behind the project. If people are left puzzled about the point of their finished work, they become discouraged. They might be hesitant about their ideas, causing them to start many works and toss them soon after. They tend to gravitate towards art styles that are pleasing to the eye and symmetrical. 

Scorpio Moon: They tend to focus on topics that are swept under the rug in their works. The dark side of humanity is brought out in their projects. They love to shine a light on these controversial situations, especially because they are some of the only people brave enough to tackle such things. They prefer to work alone. If they are around others, they feel pressured and they may see a huge difference in the quality of their work. They cannot channel the intensity with people breathing down their necks. The public usually has a strong reaction to their work, either good or bad.

Sagittarius Moon: They find that being under the influence actually helps them a lot when trying to channel their creative energy. They don’t rely on any substances per se, but they are not afraid to experiment in order to get in to a certain mindset. The original intent may not match up with the final outcome of a Sagittarius moon’s work; this can frustrate them at times. However, it can also be a blessing that things don’t always work they way that they wanted them to. The Jupiter energy works in their favor regardless and by some mechanism of luck, the public usually loves their work.

Capricorn Moon: Usually, they tend to stick to classic and traditional styles of art. They are the most likely to take art seriously and want to pursue a career in the field. They are not only interested in pursuing art themselves, they are also deeply involved in art history. Capricorn moon’s usually have a comfort zone when it comes to what they are willing to try. Their medium of choice is usually oil painting because of it’s elegant and smooth texture. Nature and landscapes are what they are attracted to, even if it is not what they enjoy painting/drawing.

Aquarius Moon: It is important for them to channel other’s emotions and struggles in their art, rather than their own. To them, art is more about bringing awareness to injustices than anything else. Their style can be described as unique and unpredictable. You cannot possibly pin them down. They are drawn to psychedelic styles and neon color palettes. They want to make others feel as if they have traveled to another dimension when they view the Aquarius moon’s work. They turn the unexplainable into something that can actually be percieved.

Pisces Moon: They don’t see themselves as having any creative talent; however, this could not be further from the truth. Their work often reflects their inner confusion; they love styles that involve watercolor and a lot of blending. They connect deeply to the eyes, so that tends to be the easiest for them to draw/paint. Like the Cancer moon, they rely heavily on music in their performances. Their projects may revolve around spirituality, religion, drugs, and other mysteries of the universe. Their style of art is similar to the Scorpio moon, while romanticizing the taboos of life.

-Admin L

Infatuation

Originally posted by king-beluga

Pairing : Taehyung x Reader
Genre : Fluff, smut, Hybrid!au
Word count : 3428
Warning : smut, demeaning names



“Yeah, that one is famous. Have fun with it.“

Taehyung seemed distracted with some coloring book you brought for him as he halfway nodded without a look at your direction. Lazily lying down on his side, the rug of the living room under him. His palm holding his head as one hand was mindfully coloring the drawing. His features were adorning a bored expression but you still assumed he was focused on what he was doing. The soft dim light of the lamp was bathing his face in an ethereal golden glow. With a smirk, you could not help but state, humming a little behind the counter.

“It seems you love that one.”

A teasing smile made its way to your lips as you took a deep breath, your hands busy with putting away the cutlery from the dishwasher. It was a nice cozy and quiet Friday evening among others. Your heart warmed up by the sole fact your dog hybrid ate all the food you prepared for him as your warm glance laid upon him. He was peering into your eyes from behind his long enthralling lashes, deep voice echoing around the living room.

“Yeah, I think these coloring books are fun. Truly, they are work of art, in a way.”

You cocked one brow at him as you put one clean plate on the counter, making your way to your dog busy with the coloring book you bought from the store on your way home the day before. A frown made its way to the silver-haired hybrid’s tan face as his contemplative eyes crossed yours.

“I guess that…”

The hybrid ended up his sentence in a whisper, his eyes flickering back to the page he was before busy coloring. He seemed absorbed by the coloring book as his hand roamed over the many color pencils. After all, you were best to know art bathed in his precise and creative being.

Fascination.

“Well, what do you mean by “famous?” These are strange looking characters. I mean…You don’t see people dressed like this everyday. Are they from the TV shows you talk about so much? Because if yes, I really wanna check that show. Their world must be truly interesting.”

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Making Victuuri

A world where people can fuse with others they have a strong, personal connection with, be it friendship or love. Fusions are usually easy to spot, having two-colored natural hair, split-colored eyes and usually something normal people don’t have (like flecks of gold in their skin) and they can be breathtakingly beautiful. An AU made for the express purpose of using @zephyrine-gale ‘s ungodly GORGEOUS Victuuri Fusion. Kinda short, but i was having Feelings.


Yuuri’s first fusion was with Phichit, back in Detroit. It was during practice, when Yuuri was having a particularly bad day, finding himself unable to nail a certain jump. Phichit had offered trying so he could show him through his own body. They had become close enough friends that it worked and Yuuri was able to do the jump after. Yuuri remembered the fusing being as easy as stepping into the onsen at home.

Fusing with Victor was different. It was infinitely better.

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Pit-A-Pat (Part 1)

Originally posted by mvssmedia

fuckboy!jungkook // high school au

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Smuttish, Romance

Word Count: 3.1K

Description: It all started when Jeon Jungkook moved into the house next door during the first year of high school. His popularity was given as his looks are extraordinary, and not to mention his outstanding grades. Everyone thinks of Jungkook as the perfect person with his good looks, perfect grades, and rich parents. However, Y/N thinks apart from that.

A/N: This wasn’t supposed to be a series but oops. 

MASTERLIST


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So I sketched Otabek with his hair swept to the side this morning, which then prompted this… I have this hc that Otabek and Yuri send each other selfies, because of course they do.

-

(cheeky boy :P)

-

In reality, Yuri’s reaction is this:

relaxation

A/N thank you so much to @you-broke-our-spirit for writing this with me lmao i wouldnt be proud of this hc without you!!! also what are titles? and plot? who needs plot??

Warnings/tags: bottom!whiny!dan masseuse!phil, massage porn, lots of hickeys and praise, idk, no homo howell at first, shitty plot/set up, possibly shitty porn

Dan had a lot going on lately with the BBC. He was their lead host now every week day and spent most of his days stressing out and having panic attacks in the office bathrooms during lunch break. When Dan’s girlfriend, Lucy, saw how stressed out he was she decided that he needed to go get a massage.

Every time Dan came home from work he looked beaten down and tired. And every night, without fail Lucy always said in her matter of fact voice, “Baby, you’re so tense, come on, you need it.” Lucy even got her friends to nag Dan, and his mom! Every week he was getting calls from his mom telling him to listen to his girlfriend and “just go get the damn massage.” Dan was through with listening to their complaining after three months and finally gave in.

“Fine, fine, stop whining. I’ll go get a stupid massage,”

“Come on Dan, it’s not stupid it’s for your benefit,” she jokingly punched his shoulder and made him schedule an appointment online for some “hippy dippy massage place somewhere downtown.”

As the week progressed Dan sort of found himself dreading the massage. I mean a stranger rubbing his back with oil for two hours? Personally he didn’t see that as “heaven”, he saw that as torture. Not to mention the fact that where most of his stress is centered (his neck) is the same place as his g-spot, that has not had attention from anyone since his high school days.

~~~

A week of complaining and moping later and Dan was walking into the massage place. He contemplated just going to get some pizza to eat instead, and just tell Lucy that he got the massage but he remembered what she said and just tried to think of this as something he was finally doing for himself.

He needed this. Yes. He definitely needed this after all this bullshit with work.

When he walked in he was immediately hit with the scent of burning lavender incense. It was calming but overwhelming all at once. Maybe he should’ve just ditched.

After another useless internal battle he checked in. While he was waiting he bounced his leg up and down in the waiting room, just wanting to get this over with.

That’s when his masseuse walked out. Dan felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Dan had ever laid his eyes on. He had striking blue eyes and jet black hair swept to the side while sporting a form fitting black shirt on that Dan could clearly see the outline of his stomach through, and Dan would seriously kill for abs like that.

Of course Dan was thinking of this man as a goal for his own appearance. He couldn’t be attracted to him. Not at all. Dan was straight. Dan had a girlfriend. All of these thoughts were no homo thoughts. Yeah. Yeah, no homo.

“Hello? Dan? I’m Phil, your masseuse today,” the man grinned and Dan swears that the room lit up. No homo though.
“Uh- yea- uh- Dan- yeah- um -touch my body now- i mean- like a massage- yeah- haha."Now Dan has always been a formal, calm man. He has absolutely no idea what this ‘Phil’ was doing to him.

Phil giggled- fucking giggled- at Dan’s nervousness and led him to the back, where all the massage rooms were.
"Now before I 'touch your body’ I need to know certain things Mr. Howell. What kind of pressure would you like? What are certain problem areas,” Phil went on with the list of things he needed to know but all Dan could focus on was those damn, pink lips moving up and down a mile a minute –curling around each word. He was mesmerized, and when Phil finished talking he licked his lips and handed Dan the form to fill out, Dan fumbled and dropped the pen since he was so focused on Phil’s lips. When he got the pen back he filled out the stupid paperwork about what he wanted out of the massage.

“I’m going to leave you to get undressed now. Of course you can leave your boxers on if you’d like but they usually get in the way of massaging your thighs so if you’re comfortable with it, please take them off,” Phil then silently strode out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Dan started to strip quickly, trying to ignore both his existential crisis and his semi hard on. He folds and lays his clothes down on the chair in the corner of the room and slips off his shoes. Then he walks over to the massage table and awkwardly crawls inside, trying not to give his dick any friction so his hard on doesn’t get worse. It’s nearly impossible though, and when he lays flat on his stomach he slowly grinds against the table until Phil knocks on the door.

When Phil walks in he’s carrying different essential oils and he places them all on a table near Dan’s head. “Okay Mr. Howell-”

“Please, call me Dan. No need for formalities here,” Dan said, having regained his composure somehow.

“Okay well Dan, I’m gonna start off with your back and then I’ll move to your legs and then later I’ll have you flip over onto your back and do your arms and shoulders,”

“Sounds great, I’ve really needed this for a while. It’s a two hour session right?”

“Correct, and don’t feel bad if you fall asleep on the table,” Phil laughed, “You wouldn’t be the first person to do it and you definitely won’t be the last.”

Their banter carried on for a view minutes, Phil asking Dan where he works, Dan asking Phil how long he’s been a masseuse, random things like that; that was until Phil touched Dan’s neck.

“Dan, you need to relax, you have a lot of knots up here in your neck and I need to work them out,” Phil complained.

Dan tried his hardest to relax but it was hard when a hot guy that had already managed to make him question his sexuality was touching his number one g-spot. Phil pushed down on the major knots and worked them out one by one. When he switched over to the other side of Dan’s neck and started working on a knot at the base, Dan let out a loud embarrassing moan and immediately relaxed.

"There you go, good boy Dan, “He praised. Dan swears he heard Phil wrong. Yeah. He had to have said good job. Right? Oh well. Forget it.

Dan let himself relax after that point. Letting Phil have his way with all of the knots in his neck and moaning obscenely at each touch. Phil kept praising Dan for some reason, which was only turning Dan on more.

With each praise that slipped out of Phil’s mouth Dan moaned louder and subtly ground his hips into the table beneath him. He got all whiny and shallow breathed when Phil had finished working out all the knots in his neck.

"Since you seem to enjoy this so much, I’m going to focus more on your neck, even with all your knots being gone now,” Dan moans as a response and sinks into the table –shamelessly grinding into it now. Not even caring if Phil saw. Of course Phil noticed though, a fact unknown to Dan himself, but if anyone else were in the room they would’ve seen the way Phil froze and bit his lip.

Phil’s hands become hesitant for a second, and then Dan feels warm lips kissing the back of his neck.

“Oh my gosh, Dan I’m so sorry! That was so unprofessional of me!” Phil goes to apologize more but Dan just stares up at him with the most wrecked look in the world and lets out a small plea of “more.”
Within seconds Dan’s being flipped onto his back and Phil is diving for his neck, pressing kisses all around it. Phil pulls off Dan’s neck and kisses him roughly, slipping his tongue in without warning. Dan moans in response, kissing back feverishly and grabbing the back of his neck. Phil does wonders with his tongue, swirling and rolling it all around Dan’s mouth, knowing exactly what to do and how to make him squirm. Dan becomes pliant and tries to grind up into the dominant boy on top of him who just keeps pushing his hips down and making out with him. When they pull away Dan’s panting and his eyes are wide and dark.

“Phil, please, I need more. Bite me. Suck on my neck. Mark me. Please~” Now who would deny a request like that? Certainly not Phil. He goes back to Dan’s neck with a renewed energy and immediately begins to suck on a sweet spot at the base of Dan’s neck. He lets out a loud moan and Phil groans in response to the loud boy. Thank god these rooms are soundproof.

As Phil left a mark the size of a golf ball on Dan’s neck, Dan writhed against him, trying to push his hips up but Phil held them down. Holding him off from any type of release momentarily. He begins to suck another mark above the previous one. Dan should’ve been paying attention and told him to stop before he had to wear a turtle neck to work tomorrow, but he couldn’t think straight. Dan moaned and struggled for friction beneath Phil but he wasn’t given anything. Every time he groaned in annoyance Phil chuckled and just went back to sucking on his neck. He bit and nibbled and sucked as if his life depended on it.

“Phil- Fuck, you have to gi-ve me more, please I’ll d-do anything please jus-just let me grin-d-d against your th-thigh,” Dan whined as Phil smirked and just kept marking up his neck.

“Oh but princess, earlier you were begging for me to mark you up, so I’m going to take me time doing that.”

“But- Philll~”

“Daniel, if you want to be fucked I suggest you stop whining. I only fuck good boys”

“Fi-Fine”

Before Phil could carry on, he rid himself of all of his clothes and climbed back on the table.

Phil continued on gingerly with his marks. He watched Dan writhe for a while before deciding that 5 hickeys on his neck was enough for now and that he needs to move onto somewhere else. He slowly moved down to his chest. Reaching up to rub on Dan’s nipples with both hands he attached his mouth right on Dan’s collarbones. He left a few bright red love bites all over them before moving down to leave more dark hickeys. Circling Dan’s nipples with both hands and sucking hickeys in random places was a lot for Dan’s needy little body to handle and he begged Phil to get on with it.

Finally giving into the writhing boy below him, Phil ground down his giant cock onto Dan. Dan let out a shout and his eyes rolled into the back of his head from finally being satisfied. “What do you want baby? Hmm?”

“Want you t’ fuck me, please Phil! Please!”
Dan desperately rolled his hips up, just wanting more and more.

“I don’t know. You haven’t been to good Dan,”

“No! Please I have! Phil you have to fuck me! Please!”

Phil chuckled lowly and brought his mouth down to Dan’s chest again. He kissed down Dan’s slightly chubby stomach quickly and pulled the blanket off of his lower half. Dan’s aching cock was now on display, he was leaking and flushed. Phil had a rush of sympathy because he made the boy wait so long for any type of satisfaction. But no, now wasn’t the time for sympathy. He kissed the tip of Dan’s dick and licked at his slit until he heard Dan once again pleading for more.

“God princess you’re so needy, so loud,”

Phil mumbled against Dan, making Dan groan from the vibrations on his cock.
Phil started kissing down Dan’s cock, to the base and once he got there he slowly tugged at Dan as he whined and thrusted up into his hand. Phil licked and marked Dan’s balls while he thumbed through his slit and occasionally ran an agonizingly slow hand down his length.

"Phil I’m gonna cu-”

“No you aren’t. And if you do you’ll definitely regret it. I can promise that.” Dan shuttered at Phil’s words and grabbed a fistful of the blanket beneath him. Trying to edge himself had always been an issue with Dan. He always got excited too quickly and went too fast with himself to a point where he always came easily.

“Just get on with it- please Phil I’m begging you-”

“Shh baby, give me a second.” Phil stood and got the essential oil that still sat on the table near Dan’s head. That’d be efficient lube right? Oh well. Close enough. “Turn over baby, I’ve gotta prep you.”

Dan obeyed and flipped onto his stomach once again, except this time he stuck his ass in the air. His head rested on his forearms and his knees were bent and sitting on the table, giving him the perfect back arch. Phil’s first thought was that he’s never seen an arch like this outside of porn, and his second thought was “damn I’m lucky.”

As Phil gently rubbed circles on Dan’s hip, he thrusted one finger in. He felt how tight Dan was and needed to know something, “Oh princess are you a virgin?”

“I- I mean- No- I-”

“Daniel have you ever been with a boy before? What about stretching yourself?”

“Once in college I had a one night stand with some guy, but other than that no. I’ve always thought I was straight until-"Dan cut off feeling embarrassed,” Until I saw you,“

Phil chuckled deeply and just went back to thrusting his finger in and out of Dan’s hole. Dan groaned and tried to rub his hard on against the table, bit Phil was holding his hips up. Once again denying him any temporary pleasure.

As Phil stretched Dan he left kisses and nips everywhere. He kissed his inner thighs, his lower back, his hips, his ass. Almost every inch of Dan had been grazed by Phil’s lips by the time he was done. Dan had been whining the whole time, begging for the process to be hurried up, pushing his ass back against Phil’s fingers. But Phil was just taking his sweet time, praising Dan every now and then.

When Phil declared Dan prepped, he started to push in. Letting out little praises with each inch sinking into Dan. "Good job baby, taking me so well, so tight and perfect for me.” Dan bit down on his knuckles to conceal his moans.

Once Phil bottomed out Dan let out a whorish moan and begged him to move. His wish was granted and Phil began to slowly thrust in and out of Dan.

“Please Phil! More! Give me more!”

“God Dan, so needy,”

Dan looked over his shoulder in the sexiest way possible with the awkward position and pleaded, “Phil, I need you to fuck me. Make me feel this for weeks. Make it so I never forget your name. Fuck me until I can’t walk please~” He blinked up innocently and saw Phil throw his head back and thrust hard into him once. Thank god.

Phil started to fuck into him hard enough that Dan’s legs gave out beneath him. When he found Dan’s prostate Dan screamed beneath him and let out little pleas, although he was already getting everything he wanted. Phil gripped Dan’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he heard these pleas. Dan moaned and bit the table beneath him, completely blissed out.

“Beg me for your release Dan”

“God- Please- fuckfuckfuck Phil I need it, let me cum- please!” he panted out between thrust.

Phil released his grip on Dan’s right side, and reached forward to pump Dan’s cock.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you want it that bad. I think you could beg a lot better than that baby boy.”

Dan fucked himself back on Phil’s dick and shamelessly called out pleas, as his dignity was long gone at this point.

“There we go, that’s more like it, good boy, cum for me.”

Dan listened and came with a shout right after the comment had been made. He felt a shock of pleasure run through his body and shuttered, relaxing down onto the table again and letting Phil finish inside him.

When Phil saw the completely blissed out boy beneath him he moaned loudly and came inside Dan. After a moment of euphoria he pulled out and sat Dan up so he could clean up the cum off of him.

“Well baby, if you’d like to do that again, I could give you my number?” Phil winked and handed him a card. A business card.

Dan blushed - he left with his body completely relaxed and mind whirring. How was he going to tell Lucy?

A/N: im also accepting prompts all the time so like if u want u can request anything u want

I can be certain of one thing.
When I’m hurting, God is hurting with me. God is just as mad as you are about the pain in this world. He was so mad, in fact, that at one point in our history in a sand-swept city of blood and retaliation, He entered our pain, side-by-side and face-to-face, and died for me. For you, too. He suffered not only for us, but with us, and jump-started a healing in a tomb as a glimpse of the glory for where we’re headed.
—  J.S. Park