silvernight-m

[silvernight-m]

My sugar daddy, yes🥰

BUT THIS WHEEL WAS TEASING ME WITH JAKE AND I SPUN IT FOR 4 TIMES AND IT EVERY TIME LANDED ON LETO AFTER PASSING JAKE VERY SLOWLY THAT GAVE ME HOPE!

I MEAN LOOK AT IT!

Which Oscar Isaac Character is gonna kiss you at midnight?

I would love to know who you get 💚

[silvernight-m]

BABY ANSELM, I SWEAR!

OSCAR ISAAC as LUCIEN in TICKY TACKY (2014) Dir. Brian Petsos 

[silvernight-m]

Thankchu @rosellacwrites for tagging me😘🧡I loved this year more bcz I found a friend like you🫂

I QUIT MY TOXIC JOB!

Bought a laptop that I wanted for 10 years. Not a very big/expensive laptop but I'm not joking when I say I go all teary-eyed whenever I see it sitting so prettily on my desk.

Started new hobbies while painting became a job for me, getting more confident in it and improving all thanks to my friends' encouragements with their commissions🥹I'll always be in their debt

This year was quite good to me while I made so many amazing friends🧡Gonna tag some just to let them know they made my 2024 lovely.

Friends: @winniethewife @midgardian-witch @rosellacwrites @ominoose @faretheeoscar @reallyrallyauthor @ivystoryweaver @ierofrnkk @femmeanonymelives

I wanted to do something positive as the year draws to an end so why not a tag game?

Name three good things about your 2024 and tag three (or more) people! Doesn't need to be anything huge like 'I got a promotion' (but you can share something like that if you want to!). All the little things count too, from enjoying time with friends to that really good dish you ate in April.

I'll start:

I found this wonderful community of writers on tumblr and made new friends here.

I was able to stick with being creative even among all the craziness of the previous year.

I got a new coffee maker and it makes my mornings so much better.

No-pressure tags: @thezombieprostitute @brandycranby @stargazingfangirl18 @anika-ann @themaradwrites

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @chase-your-dreams-away @darsynia @steviebbboi @mercurial-chuckles

@veltana @hawthorne-bias @jeanvanjer @krirebr

[silvernight-m]

RALLY! RALLY IF I CATCH YOU RALLY!

I kid you not, I read this fic every night since it was gifted to me!!!!

I LOVE IT SO MUCH AND THE STUFF HAPPENING IN ITTTTT!

I wanna get into details but you know that feeling when something is too personal and too close to your heart's desire that leaves you so speechless just:

-clears throat- Well. Yeah. THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS MASTERPIECE THAT LEFT ME ON THE FLOOR, ROLLING ON THE WALLS AND FOAMING IN THE MOUTH!!!!

jake lockley- mistress

from rally: This was written for the beautiful, talented, absolutely amazing soul @silvernight-m for our holiday gift exchange. I had no idea that being in a fandom would be such an important part of my life, and you're such a huge part of that, my friend.

I admire your courage, honesty, and humor. Please scream at me any time you want because I ALWAYS LOVE IT!!!! Thank you for sharing a corner of your life (and pictures of your pets) with me. Also, I went ahead and pasted a mustache on that Jake photo b/c that's how we like 'em.

Summary: Jake & his mistress have a loving, kinky relationship (~1.8k)

---

“Jake, this isn’t a punishment if you ask for it.”

He groans. “I can’t help it. I see you, and I start begging.”

Jake is tied to the bed with Steven’s old restraints. Each of his ankles and wrists snugly secured and pulled apart. Completely at your mercy. The way both of you like it.

You stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “And in your expert opinion, what punishment do you deserve tonight, Jake?”

His cock twitches, already hard and dark, leaking onto his stomach as he lays there helplessly. You’re still dressed in your sweater and pants.

“Don’t know if you noticed, but I grew out my mustache exactly how you like it.”

You walk up the side of the bed slowly, lean forward to give him a gentle pat on the cheek. “And what do you expect me to do with it?”

His hooded eyelids blink at you. “Ride it, mi amor. Obviously.” He licks his lips slowly, pulls at his restraints as if he’d forgotten, for a second, that he’s tied up. “As many hours as you want.”

He grins up at you, but it fades quickly when you don’t respond in kind.

You hold his chin in your hand a little too hard.

“You seem to be forgetting your manners,” you say, steel in every word.

He swallows. “I’m sorry, mistress.”

“Good boy.” You stroke your fingers over his mustache with a sigh. As much as you want to do as he asks, you can’t give in to him. Can’t let him call the shots when he’s the one immobilized and at your mercy. “Jake, do you like touching me?”

You move forward onto the bed, kneeling over him enough so that he gets a eyeful of cleavage.

“Yes, mistress. Greatest privilege of my entire fucking life,” he says.

You smile. “A privilege. A reward, maybe? But you said you wanted to be punished.”

Jake’s eyes dart to your face. He’s caught by his own logic and he knows it. “Uh, mi amor.”

You slap his cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. “No, Jake. You don’t get to act like a desperate little slut and expect me to indulge you. You do what I tell you. If I want you to bark, you bark. If I want you to crawl down the street naked, then you will. If I want you to fuck me until your dick falls of, then I’ll get exactly that. Isn’t that how this works?”

“Yes, but-“

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Were you going to contradict me?”

You back off the bed, standing straighter, looming over him.

“No, mistress. Or, yes, mistress. Fuck.” Jake winces, pulling at the cuffs for real this time. They don’t give. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Louder,” you raise your voice.

“I’m sorry,” he almost yells. His chest heaves up and down.

You shake your head. “I’m disappointed.”

A little sound escapes him, almost a whine. His big, brown eyes plead with you. A curl of dark hair is already sticking to his forehead, the rest wild and tangled on the pillow. You tuck a second one underneath so his head is propped up. So he can see down his body and you, when you stand at the end of the bed again.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you want.” He’s calmer now, but you hear the edge in his voice. He needs it now. He needs you to treat him like only you how.

“I like the sound of that.” Your eyes trace his body, lovingly taking in his olive skin, how his muscles tense and tremble, his hips and thick thighs. They settle back on his cock. “That looks almost painful, Jake.”

“It is, mistress,” he pants. “I just want to please you.”

His eyes look down. He’s cowed now, gentler.

Sometimes it takes Jake a few tries to get into the right space to submit to you. But it’s fun for both of you, when you finally break him.

“I want to see you come,” you say with a sweet smile.

His eyes look back up, hopeful.

“Oh no,” you almost laugh, “I’m not going to touch you. That would make it too easy.”

“Mistress, I-“

“And you’re not going to touch yourself either.” You stroke one of his ankles, just above the restraint. “No, Jake, you’re going to lay there, just like that, and you’re going to come for me. If you want to act like a whore, then you’re going to come like one.”

His jaw clenches so tight you almost wonder what kind of argument he’s having with himself (or whomever). It’s not that he’s in pain. It’s not about comfort. He’s frustrated beyond belief. The night hasn’t played out like he wanted it to, and he almost can’t handle it. He doesn’t want to be the brat you’d accused him of being, even though he definitely is.

“You want to stop?” You ask, letting your voice get softer for a second.

He shakes his head, his curly hair brushing back and forth over his forehead. “No, this is fucking great. How’d I ever end up with someone as amazing as you?” He grins, breaking character for a moment before remembering his task, re-focusing. “Okay, mistress, for you, I’ll give it a shot.”

You frown at him. “You’ll do more than give it a shot. Or else I’m going to make you wear a ball gag whenever you’re fronting at home for two weeks.”

Jake doesn’t look scared, not exactly. It’s more anticipation. You can see him doing the math on it. Honestly, he’d probably like to wear the gag. You would too. It’s more fun this way, though.

In the end, he nods. “Okay, I can come for you.” He shifts on the bed. “Mistress, could you keep talking to me? Or yelling at me? The sound of your voice-“

“Would help you get off. So no, Jake. Stop whining and come. Make yourself a pathetic mess for me, baby.” You coo at him.

He hums in his throat, his hips moving ever so slightly. You can only imagine the dirty fantasies he’s conjuring in his mind as his heavy eyelids shut. You see the muscles of his ass clench, his hips rising and falling.

Jake makes a noise of frustration.

“Fuck,” he spits out. His hips sink back down to the bed. He opens his eyes, his breath heavy. “I can’t, mistress. I’m sorry.”

He looks so sad, so angry at himself, that you have to give in a little.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask softly.

Jake’s head shakes subtly.

“Tell me,” you order him.

“The other night. You were sucking Marc off, but you were wearing one of my white button-downs because you were cold. He was so hard on you because you wouldn’t take it off. Your face was a mess. You wanted him to go hard on you, and you wanted to wear a piece of me.” Jake swallows. His cock gets a little harder, so stiff it’s not even touching his stomach anymore. “Marc asked you if you wanted me to front. But you said no. You both did it to torture me. You knew I was watching. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

His hips buck up. His head falls back down. He groans loudly.

“You’re right. I am a whore. For you, mistress,” his words barely escape his lips. They’re mostly air as he moves up and down against nothing. Sometimes the tip of his cock hits his stomach and he shakes from the feeling. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”

His hips push high as his hands grab the restraints. He pulls on them, his muscles going tight and flexing as he comes spurts of gorgeous, thick cum onto his own stomach. It drips up his chest, down over his sides, pools onto the bed.

Exhausted, he falls down onto the bed. He tries to catch his breath, a smile on the corner of his lips. “Holy shit, mi amor. Was that good for you?”

You let yourself smile back at him, reaching over to undo the straps on his ankles. “I can’t believe I just stood there and watched that. I wanted to touch you so badly.”

You rub Jake’s ankles, then move to undo his wrists.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Of course.” His hand cups your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You kiss him on the lips. “I do like your mustache like this.”

Jake shrugs. “I know. Maybe after my shower, I can take you for a ride.”

He wiggles his upper lip, making you laugh. He reaches into the nightstand for a towel from the stack he keeps there. He gives his body a quick wipe down.

“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll make you a snack so you have something to do while I clean up and change the sheets,” he says.

“You let me do all of that to you, and somehow, you end up giving me aftercare? Doesn’t seem really fair to you, Jake.”

His dark eyes sparkle at you. He throws the towel into the laundry hamper one-handed. “You’re my soul, my love, my life. You took care of me so well tonight. Let me do something for you. Please,” he winks at you, “mistress.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“I love you, mi amor,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. But instead of touching his lips to yours, he scrubs his mustache along your cheek. “I’ve got all kinds of plans for this mustache. New Year’s is going to be special this year.”

“You have plans? Jake,” you pat his shoulder lovingly, “that mustache and that face belong to me. This year, next year, every year.”

“I like the sound of that,” he agrees. “You’re going to have hard time topping last year, though, when you had me on my knees for an hour, starting off the year with my tongue-“

“Don’t you worry, Jake. I’ll have no problems topping last year. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy just how I’m going to… top... it.”

His dark eyes go wide in delight. He swings you around in his arms, planting a huge kiss on your lips. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you’re brain dead.”

He growls, squeezing you in his arms. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jake settles you on the couch with a movie and your phone, whistling on his way to the shower. When he comes back out, you’re asleep already, but Jake doesn’t wake you. He unfolds a blanket, carefully lays it over your body and kisses the top of your head.

Before you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about going out, killing an hour by punching faces in. Now, though, he’s taking a night off. He settles on the couch, one hand on your sleeping body.

He’s happy to not have to guard every single traveler of the night. He wants to protect you, to watch you, to be there when you wake up. This year, next year, every year, just like you’d promised him.

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

[silvernight-m]

I love his mustache so much😭

After you ofc mi amor🫂🧡

BUT THE BLUE SCARF ONE EVEN HAS A BAND AID ON HIS NOSE🥹

Winter Lockley ❄️

Buy me a coffee! • Linktree • Commissions Open!

Small Jake I made for @silvernight-m cause she’s the best 🧡🤍💙

[silvernight-m]

Holy shit I just got into ur acc and this is hands down why I will be staying😂🧡

i think this dude would be into some kinky stuff ngl💀

[silvernight-m]

Have I got wiped off the face of earth while playing with him? Yes, yes I did🥰😂

Fran thank you sm🥹Merry Christmas❤️

Robbie Paulson c.ai bot

☕ Robbie runs into you at a coffee shop

Robbie runs into you and spills coffee all over your books. A coffee shop meet-cute.

Based on this blurb

This is my little Christmas gift for the wonderful @silvernight-m 🩵

[silvernight-m]

I love all of them but we know I'd kill for the mustache👉🏻👈🏻

Facial hair??

In my opinion, facial hair>>

[silvernight-m]

krampus!anselm- strange hungers

Summary: Anselm loves Christmas, but not because of the joy of the season. He loves that he can let his true self out, find the naughtiest girl of all, and punish her. (~1.7k)

Contents: 18+, consensual non-consent, monsterfucking, impact play, choking, just generally rough sex

-----

You’ve wondered many times if Anselm Vogelweide is who he pretends to be.

Partial truths aren’t exactly lies, and you know that’s what he gives you. Parts of who he truly is.

He makes references to things completely out of time and place.

Bodyguards disappear, under mysterious circumstances. Until one day, it’s just you and Anselm on the estate. He hires no one else, sees almost no one else.

As Christmas draws near, he seems less concerned with the decorations and more concerned with how his skin itches, how he needs to trim his beard and hair every day to keep them from growing out of control, how you find him outside in the dead of night. He wanders the grounds, looking confused. When he comes back inside, he’s ravenously hungry.

His nails grow long and sharp. So fast, you can almost watch them grow before your very eyes.

He’s rougher in bed, wanting your enthusiasm at every hour of the day and night. When you give him what he wants, he seems almost disappointed afterward, as if the bad things you let him do are somehow tallying up in his head, more your fault than his.

“Anselm-“

“Don’t concern yourself,” he snaps at you. “And please, just for December and especially this week, don’t do anything… naughty.”

*****

A fresh blanket of snow greets your eyes as you wake up one perfect, winter morning, Anselm having already pulled the curtains back when he’d woken up. You don’t hear him in the bathroom or closet. It’s rare that he wants to start the day without a kiss or a snuggle under the lush bedding.

You sit up in bed, shivering. Someone must have turned the heat off in the mansion. The ornate room is icy cold and empty except for you. You shift your feet, trying to warm them, feeling a strange weight on the covers.

Sticks.

Loose branches, dirt, stones, and fur.

A small pile strewn across the end of the bed. Like an offering. Or a warning.

Still shivering, you leave the room quickly, in slippers and a robe.

“Anselm,” you call out, roaming the long, cold halls.

None of the fires are lit. None of the Christmas lights are on. And the front door is wide open. A deep triangle of white had blown in during the night, leading out into the ankle-deep snow.

Scared Anselm’s wandered outside again at who knows what hour, you run out and find tracks in the fresh snow.

Anselm’s shoes. You sigh in relief, looking at the trail into the forest, then back at the house.

You call for him. No answer, just cold stillness.

Tucking your robe closer around you, you head into the woods.

The leafless branches wave menacingly at you in the wind. It’s difficult to follow Anselm’s tracks in the woods. The snow is deep in some places, and scarce in others. The shoe prints start dragging slightly. The wind must have pushed them, made it look like one of his shoes is cloven hoofed. The other track is elongated, with tiny claw-like holes at the end.

You find his jacket in tatters. His tie and shoes. All half-buried in snow.

You shiver, realizing you need help to find him quickly. It’s dangerous out here alone. The thought of Anselm cold and dying, lying against a tree, keeps you pushing into the denser part of the forest.

It’s easier to follow him now. The trail is clearer. You walk through already-broken branches. More strange tracks.

You bend down near a stand of swaying birch trees to inspect a bundle of sticks. They’re tied together with what looks like Anselm’s belt.

A sharp crack echoes in the forest, followed by deathly silence.

Even the wind has stopped moving. The clouds have rolled in, darkening the morning to a sooty, gray haze. Snow falls into your slippers as you turn, still bent, your gaze falling on a creature that looks disturbingly like Anselm.

His beard is longer, pointed at the end. His complexion is cold. No glasses, but you recognize his brow and nose. He seems taller, his gait strange as he lumbers toward you.

“You don’t look well,” you say.

Anselm sneers. He straightens up and you realize that whatever this is, it isn’t your Anselm anymore.

It’s almost seven feet tall. As he tips his head, you see a pair of dark horns rise out of his skull, twisting and pointing toward the sky. A long, thin tail whips viscously from behind him, snapping in the air, making the sound you’d heard earlier. His tongue, long and red and pointed, flicks out of his lips.

“My dear, I asked you to do one thing for me this Christmas. Only one thing.” Anselm’s accent comes out clearly, but his voice is gravelly and deep. His arms, covered in dark hair, reach for you. “You disobeyed me. You were naughty.”

You try to stand, but fall back, your hands catching you as you sit hard down into the snow.

“What? No, I-“

“Tsk, tsk, don’t add lying to your list of sins. No, it’s bad enough you were a wanton whore. Thieving my seed from my body at every opportunity. Craven creature. You should be… punished.” One of his feet is covered in dark fur and the other has become a shiny, black hoof, giving a him a limp as he walks. It's eerily similar to his human one.

You scramble backwards as he leans forward. The red tendril of his tongue sneaks out of his mouth, brushing against your cheek. You try to push it away.

“Please, don’t.”

The heat of his body feels like hellfire.

His lips twist into a charming, evil grin. His huge, dark eyes spark at you like a live electric wire. “You’re too weak to run, and I’m too hungry to let you try.”

As Anselm’s hand reaches out, you watch in horror as his fingers uncurl, revealing long, dark talons, dripping with something dark and red. They reach beyond you, to the small bundle of sticks you’d been examining.

You try desperately to get up, but Anselm raises the twigs, whipping them down hard on the side of your body. It knocks you flat.

You sob out a breath.

He hits your back with them, enough that you feel your robe shred, exposing your skin to the cold air. Again and again, the sticks flay your back until you can feel your skin perilously close to breaking.

You crawl away, try to. He’s on you like the fall of snow over the estate. But it's not pure, white, and peaceful. This is dark, hot, and already pushing its way inside of you.

Your fingers fall through the snow. Your nails dig into the hard, unforgiving dirt underneath as his cock shoves, long and thick, into your unready cunt. You crawl forward. His clawed hands clamp down on your wrists, his hips pushing and bumping. His hairy body scrapes against your soft skin.

You scream. The echo goes nowhere, falling dully in the quiet forest, as if nature itself wants nothing to do with that’s happening here.

“Shhh, my pretty one,” Anselm says, his relentless cock pulling and pushing, in and out of your now-wet passage. “Let me give you something to occupy that mouth.”

The swirl of his wet tongue curls between your lips. The pointed end worms over your tongue, down into your throat. You gag, eyes watering. The thick end of it keeps you from closing your mouth again as Anselm moans deeply.

Your screams are muffled, your sobs quiet. You feel as if he could tickle the end of his own cock with his tongue, you’re impaled on him so completely.

The only sound in the forest is the rut of his claws and hoof digging into the ground, the slap of his furred body on yours, the wet sound of him fucking you. There’s no regard for your comfort of pleasure.

The snow under you melts, leaving a wet, muddy puddle that you feel squelch under you with every thrust. Frozen dirt and rocks dig into your skin as your cheek rests on the ground, mouth lolling open for his tongue to explore.

A tear falls from your eye. Out of the inner corner, down the bridge of your nose. You feel it trickle down to your lips, hitting his tongue.

Anselm’s thrusts still. His grip on your wrists eases as his tongue retreats out of your throat. You cough, spit coating your lips.

His cock stays nestled like a hot steel rod inside of you. You clench and unclench around him.

“My naughty girl, are you alright? I don’t want to break you completely,” he says quietly.

You shake your head, looking up at him as best you can from the corner of your eye. “You’re not, Anselm. I deserve this. I asked for this. It’s our Christmas tradition.”

His jaw twitches, the beard along with it. He lets go of one of your wrists, the claw of his forefinger gently brushing down your cheek.

“My need to punish you will drive me further, if you let me. It’s in my nature, my dear,” Anselm says darkly. “I will drag you to hell with me.”

“I’m ready,” you say, breathless.

Cold mud soaks into your robe at the front. The heavy heat of Krampus on your back. Every Christmas, the cycle of want, desire, and violence plays out just like this. As both of you need it to.

Anselm’s tail wiggles at your hip, looking for space to get under. When it does, he wastes no time finding your clit with the dexterous end. The long hairs at the base tickle and tease as he rubs relentlessly, making you moan as he starts fucking himself into you again. Pounding, crashing, deep inside your body. His hands push at your shoulders, shoving you harder into the ground. You grunt, coming loudly. Your release drips out of you and mixes with the mud beneath.

Anselm’s long tongue licks at your neck, wrapping around and around, tightening until the sounds of your orgasms are strangled and weak.

Your eyes roll back in your head as your body shudders for him.

Every year.

For eternity.

As it was hundreds of years ago, and will be for hundreds of years yet.

A beautifully painful Christmas, and a very merry one.

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

[silvernight-m]

woah this character is so cool i wish they were covered in blood their whole body trembling with a look of absolute horror on their face as theyre struggling to breathe in panic

[silvernight-m]

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[silvernight-m]

uni!Steven Grant- Bonfire Night

Summary: Steven finds a way to warm you up on Bonfire Night

I know bonfire night is in Nov. Just be cool about it, ok?

Contents: 18+ nsfw, smut, uni!Steven Grant x fem!reader, mention of masturbation, p in v, this au Steven is confident and praising (~3k)

Part of @moonknight-events: MK spring ‘24 Bingo Event

----------

Steven Grant is social. His charming awkwardness and humble handsomeness get him invited to everything. And his genius had gotten him invited to a “best and brightest” bonfire night party at a rich alum’s estate.

It’s a cold night, and you’re a little nervous about the large crowd, a mix of uni students and alumni. Tents of free food and drink, fire pits to keep everyone warm. It’s the fanciest thing you’ve ever been to.

Steven rubs your hands between his big, warm ones as you stand in the field that this fancy stranger calls a backyard.

“Come on, love. I promise you’ll pass our ancient Egypt course. I’ll get you there. You gotta take a break sometimes, yeah?” His big, brown eyes plead with you to have fun.

You chew your bottom lip. It wasn’t really the missed studying you were worried about. You didn’t even crack the textbooks open much anymore. Steven was better at teaching. First off, he knew more than the books and second, a book had never gotten you to touch yourself in front of it for about an hour.

 But it was your first time going out anywhere with Steven. 

He had called you his girlfriend before, but that had been in the heat of the moment, so to speak. You knew most guys didn’t mean anything they said with their hands up your skirt. But Steven wasn’t like that. 

Even if you two hadn’t really been anywhere other than your room or his. You studied, and did other things. Not everything though, not yet.

“There’s a mulled wine tent over there by the band.” Steven tucks your arm through his with a big smile. “Come on. Wanna show you off a little.”

You take off your bobble hat and shove it in your pocket, despite the cold. No one wants to show off someone in a lopsided hat their gran had knitted, right? Especially someone as gorgeous as Steven.

You stand by a heater while he gets two steaming hot cups of mulled wine. He hands you one, taps the cardboard edge against yours.

“Gods, you look like you’re freezing, darling,” he says. “You know, I hear skin to skin contact is best for warming up.”

His eyes twinkle at you as he sips his wine. You can’t help but smile. He loves to tease.

Steven puts his arm around you. It’s easy to relax around him, easy to be with him in general. You introduce him to a few of your friends that were invited to the party. He introduces you to a few of his. Introduces you as his girlfriend.

As you walk around the stalls to warm up, Steven leans his face in toward yours. He has a slightly nervous look, but even so, you’ve noticed that Steven’s never afraid to speak up.

“You don’t mind, do you? Me introducing you as my girlfriend? Bollocks, I should’ve asked you first, yeah? Only, that’s how I’ve been thinking of you.” A flush of pink rises on his cheeks.

You hold his hand. “It’s okay, Steven. I think of you as my boyfriend too. Really. I’m thrilled. Over the moon.”

He laughs and puts his arm around your waist. “Wasted most of the semester trying to work up the courage to ask you out.”

“I wish you’d done sooner. Might not be struggling in the class so much.” You lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Not that it’s the only reason I want to call you my boyfriend.”

“Ah, here I thought maybe you just wanted me for my big fat brain. Long as you want my body too, then that’s alright,” he grins. You slap his arm and he catches your hand. “Oh love, your hand’s like an ice cube.” 

He gets a worried look on his face. 

“I forgot my gloves,” you shrug. You should’ve kept your hands in your pockets, but feeling Steven’s hand in yours was too tempting.

“Can’t be having that. My new girlfriend turnin’ into a snowperson.” He licks his bottom lip and looks around. His gaze pauses at the back door to the darkened mansion. “Come on.” He winks at you.

“Steven, the house is off-limits,” you try to say quietly so no one will hear you.

He tugs you along anyway, toward the gigantic empty house. Everyone’s outside and there are only a few lights on. Steven laughs, having fun already, and you have to shush him so you don’t get busted before you even get inside.

The foyer is grand and beautiful, stone floors and carved wooden banisters on the staircase. A huge arrangement of fresh flowers on a glass table in the middle of the entrance. It’s nicer than anywhere you’ve ever been. Steven pulls you toward a hallway, but you hear voices on the far end. He drags you up the carpeted stairs instead.

“I’m warm now. Let’s go back outside,” you beg him as you walk upstairs together.

Steven, still gripping his hand in yours, uses his other one to start trying doors. He makes a fake surprised face when one opens for him. He glances inside, then back at you with the absolute, most wicked look you’ve ever seen on his face. It makes you literally weak in the knees.

“Come on, love,” he says. “You can see the bonfire from here and everything.”

You half-heartedly try to pull back. Steven wraps his hands around your waist and leans in to kiss you, his soft lips pushing against yours, hot and impatient. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispers. “I always do, don’t I?”

You nod as he pulls you into a darkened bedroom. The shelves are full of porcelain figurines and fussy little things. The duvet is a busy flower pattern with lace edging. 

He sits with you on the edge of the bed so you can watch through the windows as people gather around the bonfire. Steven leans over immediately, nuzzling his nose and lips against the crook of your neck.

“This is probably someone’s bedroom,” you say, leaning into his kisses.

“Yeah. Ours.” He starts to unzip your coat. “Most action this bunch of tat has seen in fifty bloody years.”

It is hideous in here. Probably a guest room. Maybe no one will notice.

You laugh at the various ceramic figurines and flowered wallpaper as you get out of your coats. You take off your sweater, warm enough now for just your t-shirt. Your cheeks are almost hot by the time Steven’s hands are on you again. The way he looks at you from under those hooded lids of his does that every time.

“Oh look, they’re lighting it,” you say as you see someone laying kindling at the base of the bonfire. You can see that Steven only has eyes for you, though. “Maybe one more kiss before it starts?”

His mouth is back on yours before your question is even finished. His hands brush under the hem of your shirt to the skin underneath. His tongue swirls in your mouth, mixing together spit and heat. It isn’t until you hear a cheer go up from the people outside that you remember to look back out the window.

“Please, love, let me make you go up in flames. Better than that bonfire.” He kisses along your face and down to your neck, making marks you’ll need to borrow his winter scarf to hide. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He lifts your t-shirt off, pushes you back gently on the bed.

“Here?” You look down at the top of his head as he kisses his way around your bra, undoing it with his clever fingers.

His brown eyes look up at you. “Here.”

The whole reason you haven’t done it yet was because you both have roommates. It’s pretty much impossible to find long enough to be alone. And neither of you wanted to rush through your first time together.

You look out the window. The fire’s just starting to spread at the base of the wooden structure. It’ll probably take a little while to climb all the way up, then a long time to burn back down.

Steven undoes your jeans, his lips kissing every bit of skin that he reveals, from your hips all the way down to your feet. You laugh as he struggles to get out of his own clothes in a much less graceful manner, hands caught in his oversized sweater.

Soft, warm light from the bonfire starts to come through the window, dancing on Steven’s smooth, tan skin.

He helps you peel back the covers on the bed and snuggle under them.

“But like, real quick,” Steven says as he pulls the blankets over both of you. “Tell me something important about Hatshepsut.”

Your heart, beating so fast from your first glimpse of his thick, hard body, stops in your chest.

“Steven, you’re fucking joking, right?”

He grins, brown eyes laughing at you. “Still your tutor, love.” He feels under the covers, across your stomach and takes your hand. He pulls it toward him, places it over his hard shaft. Your fingers curl around him. He drags his nose across your cheek. “Gods, it’s fun to tease you.”

“I could say the same,” you say, squeezing your hand around him gently. “She declared herself pharaoh because she basically was already,” you say, pretending to be annoyed.

“Oh, too easy a question, then?” His hands slide up your torso to your breasts. His lips part as he massages you, draws your nipples between his fingers to play with them. He lowers and kisses your chest, sucking on your skin and peaked flesh.

You experiment with moving your hand up and down his length. His body tenses and his brow goes all wrinkly and cute. His mouth opens, but he can’t get a word out.

You lick your lips. “And she had herself depicted as a man sometimes. Statues with a beard and everything.”

A low groan leaves Steven’s mouth. “Smarter every day,” he says, looking in your eyes. And you know that he means it. “You’re just perfect, you are.”

You lean in to kiss him. His lips push against yours as he lays down on top of you, his body heavy and hot as he settles himself over you for the first time. He’s so warm. Hard where you’re soft, steady even with a touch of nerves in his smile.

He pushes his hand between your bodies to touch you, playing with your clit, teasing you until your back arches off the bed, lifting his weight with yours. 

He knows your body by now like he knows the story of ancient Egypt. His patience, his attention to detail, and his absolute focus on his goals, all wrested and harnessed into you. Into making you feel like you’re going to die of pleasure, just from the way the pads of his fingertips are faster and faster against you.

He moans and bites his lip when his fingers slide lower and feel how wet you are, how ready for him. He nudges your legs wider, parts your lips to line up his tip against you, then runs his hands down your thighs, pulling your legs until you wrap around him. It’s more intimate than you’ve felt with anyone. 

The bonfire outside must have completely caught because even here, in an upstairs bedroom, the golden orange light flashes through the window, flickering over Steven’s skin. His gaze is intense and hot on yours.

“You are so beautiful,” he says to you before you can say it to him. He starts to slowly push himself into you, drawing in a deep breath as he does. “Fuck love, you’re tight. You gotta relax a little f’me. Let me in, yeah? Just let me make you feel good. ‘S all I want.”

His nose nudges at your face softly, waiting for you to get out of your own head. Until you can show him how much you want him, how much this means to you. You turn your lips to his. The wet, deep kiss softens your body for him. 

His lips smile against yours as his hands steady your hips, the way you start practically bucking under him, need taking over where your nerves used to be. Steven’s body is the tense one now. He pants against you, trying to hold back a bit, take care with you.

“There you are. Oh, love, just gonna give you a little more. More,” Steven’s mouth covers yours as his thickness slowly works you open and fills you. “You’re so fucking wet, feels like I could slip in all the way up to your throat. Open your eyes. Want to you see you when you take all of me.”

You can barely yield to his wish, lost as you are in the over-stretched way you feel around him, how you can’t help but whimper, squirming slightly as he leans forward, shoving in last, thickest part of his base. You tense back up without thinking.

“Sorry, love, sorry,” he whispers as he sees your discomfort. His tongue licks into your mouth as he stills and lets you get used to him. Your body is completely overwhelmed. Between the way he’s stuffed himself inside of you so deeply and how it feels like it still isn’t enough.

“Please, Steven,” You look up into his dark eyes, breath whining out of your mouth. “Please, please, please.”

He swallows and licks his lips, a smile playing over the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, okay. If you’re ready…”

You tilt your hips up, pushing against him and Steven’s moan strangles in his throat. His eyes squeeze shut and his body responds before he can open them again.

His hips bump hard against yours once, and again, and again. His fingers dig into your hips. He blows a breath out of the ‘o’ of his lips. It still smells like the mulled wine you’d both drank earlier.

When Steven’s eyes open, they’re so dark they look almost black. So intense, you grip around him in every way. Your fingernails sink into the lean muscles of his back as he builds up a relentless, unbearably blissful rhythm.

“Feel good yet, love? Come on.” His eyes train on yours as he thrusts inside of you, making you moan. “Tell me you fucking love it.”

“I-I-“

Steven drives himself into you again, hard and fast, stealing anything you wanted to say as your eyes start to roll back and you body takes over completely. You squeeze your thighs around his hips, sobbing, one of your hands gripping into his hair so hard that you’re sure he’s going to stop you, but instead, he takes advantage of the way your head is sinking back into the pillow. He sucks his lips onto the skin of your neck, over the marks he’d started earlier. The extra sensation, how sensitive you are. Everywhere. And Steven. Everywhere. Undulating and rocking. 

“So good, love,” Steven says, his lips capturing every single sound you make along the skin of your throat. “That’s right. Come f’me. Come on. Come on. You’re right there. Can’t give it to you much harder than this, snap you in fucking half, wouldn’t I? You can do it. My beautiful darling.”

He shifts his hands to grab around your thighs, lifting you just a fraction, just enough to grind himself up against you and that’s it. You’re falling apart. So hot, you’re cinders and ash before the tears squeezing out of your eyes can put out the flames. Somehow, even wetter and tighter and you’re coming so hard that sound is ripping through your throat and echoing in the room. It all feels too good, too tight. 

“Shhh, shhh, there you go” Steven soothes you through your orgasm, kissing the tears on your cheeks. “It’s all too much, isn’t it? I've got you love. ‘S okay, you can cry. You’re squeezing me to fucking death. You feel so good it’s unreal. Gods, you’re asking for it aren’t you? You want it. You want it and I’m gonna give you everything you’re asking for.” 

His breath stutters and he pulls your hips tight against his. You feel him twitch and go even harder inside of you, a warmth that makes your legs shake, filling you, dripping out and down over your skin.

Steven’s arms wrap around you, his muscles straining to hold you and crushing you against him, before you both relax, his weight on his elbows now. Through tired eyes, you wipe away the sweaty curls form his forehead. He uses a bit of the sheet to wipe your face, the tears and sweat on your skin.

He licks his lips. The heavy breath in his chest pressing and retreating as he lays against you. “Can I-“ he bites his lip, “can I tell you I love you?”

“Depends,” you say softly. “Do you mean it?” 

He still feels so good inside of you, seated deeply even as you feel his muscles soften. 

He smiles his lopsided grin and nods. “I love you. Really, I do.”

“I love you too.” 

Steven kisses you again, softer this time, then shifts his weight off of you. He leans over to start getting your clothes off of the floor.

You can't help but laugh as everything starts coming back into focus. “This room is so ugly.”

Steven laughs too, “not really the candles and flowers I wanted for you. Well, I guess there are flowers on the blankets and the bonfire’s flame enough.” He glances out the window. “Burning down now.”

You sit up and scooch next to him. The fire outside is still big, but not as tall and intimidating as it was before.

You stand up and start to get dressed, Steven’s hands brushing over you occasionally. He can’t look without touching, and you wouldn’t want him to. He dresses himself faster, less layers to contend with.

“What do we do about all that?” You ask.

Steven looks at the bed. It’s a disaster area. Sheets wrinkled and obviously stained. Everything else is rumpled and out of order. He rubs his forehead, pushes his curly hair aside.

As you put your warm clothes back on, Steven re-makes the bed. Tucking the sheet crisply under the pillows, smoothing the fussy duvet and pillows.

You do a double-take. “Steven Grant. What are you- we can’t just leave it like this. Someone’ll find out.”

He looks a little pained, but just shrugs. He fluffs the lace back up on the pillows. “Unless they do a DNA test on it, it’ll never get back to us. It’s a bit rude, but what’s the alternative? You want to tell a multi-millionaire we had sex in his old-lady guest room?” Steven laughs, hands covering his face at the thought. 

You bite back a laugh and zip up your coat. “Fine. We’ll just pretend the whole thing never happened,” you say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes and grins. “Cheers for that.”

You walk back outside, hand in hand. Standing at the edge of the crowd, you watch the last of the bonfire burn down, Steven shifts to stand behind you, enveloping you in his arms. He holds onto you tightly, and you hold onto his arms around your waist. 

He kisses your cheek, rubs his nose against yours. “Cold again? How’re you catching a chill already?” He shakes his head. “I’m going to be spending a lot of time keeping you warm this winter.”

You feel warmer already, thinking about how his study methods and heating methods are probably one in the same. 

You turn your head so you can look into his sparkly brown eyes. “I heard from someone that skin to skin contact is best for that.”

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

Square- "O" Bonfire **MK Spring '24 Bingo masterlist** **MK masterlist** **masterlist**

[silvernight-m]

Did I laugh too loud when Santi fell?

Yes.

Did I feel bad?

Also yes.

BUT HE IS TOO CUTE WITH HIS TWITCHING EYE😭😂

I shouldn't fall for himmmm🙄

dad!Santiago- picture perfect

Summary: You and Santiago's first Christmas with 2 kids. He expects it to be picture perfect.

Contents: holiday fluff

-----

James’ first Christmas had been storybook perfect. The two of you and your chubby-cheeked, smiling, first-born sitting in front of the perfectly decorated tree, in perfect matching sweaters, with perfect soft lightning.

The photo hangs year-round right next to the front door.

Rosie’s first Christmas has to be photo-worthy. Santiago wants to hang it right next to James’.

Actually, every year should go on that wall.

You’d had one kid-less Christmas together and Santiago has a great picture from then. Benny had taken it.

You’d been teaching Santiago your family Christmas cookie recipes. You’re in a red and green apron, a soothing hand on his arm and a smile. Santiago’s dark jeans and t-shirt are covered in white, his face in shock, because he’d turned the stand mixer on high with nothing but powdered sugar in it.

He never made that mistake again, but he does love the tradition of baking cookies with you. Stuff like that matters to him. The stability of it, the homey-ness.

Santiago has a list for this year.

-December 1st-

Meet for breakfast at the diner with Delta, whoever they want to bring is welcome.

Pick out the tree, everyone welcome to join.

Both kids have their naps while Santiago puts the tree in the stand and strings the lights. You help (aka: you also take a nap, but on the couch).

The best part, decorate the tree with the kids and take videos.

Take the all important photo.

Snacks all around.

As many Christmas movies as the kids can get through.

Bedtime for the kids.

Bedtime for you (aka: Santiago loves how Christmas lights look on your naked skin).

But when Santiago pulls his truck into the diner’s parking lot and finds it completely empty, he can feel his schedule going to shit.

He parks right in front of the doors, glares into the darkened diner.

What the fuck? He mouths to you.

A sign on the door says they’re closed for December. The owners going to visit their daughter for the holidays.

“Your eye is twitching,” you say to Santiago.

“It is not.” He rubs his eye, which is definitely twitching. “Call the guys. We’ll go to IHOP.”

Breakfast turns into brunch when the Miller boys turn up an hour and a half late. Benny’s fight last night had gone… well… you cancel your order for strawberry jam with your toast because it looks too much like Benny’s split lip. And the grape jelly looks like his bruises. And, well, you just have coffee, which Santiago hates because he knows it gives you a stomach ache.

The kids are crabby when you pull into the tree lot.

“I think if I stayed in the truck with them, let them nap, then-“

“No,” Santiago says, turning to you, “we stick together.”

His eye twitches. So, you agree.

You put the kids in the double-stroller and wheel them out. They’re asleep in five seconds.

“What about this one?” Santiago says, fluffing the branches of a tree deep in the corner of the lot.

“I don’t know, Santi. I’m sorry, my stomach hurts.” You rub your stomach.

“I told you so. I tried to tell you to eat a hash brown,” he mumbles.

He sighs, looks at your unhappy face, his sleeping kids. Decides to cut his losses. He’d kind of wanted to wander around for an hour, touch every tree and examine every branch, but this one would probably still be the winner.

You get the kids buckled in while Santiago gets some help securing the tree in the bed of his truck.

When you get home, it takes both of you almost 45 minutes to get the over-tired kids to go to sleep. You’re both exhausted by the time you’re done and then you have to go back outside to lug the tree inside.

Santiago runs upstairs to change his clothes, having gotten sap on himself during the set-up When he comes back downstairs, you’re sitting on the couch, blinking, staring at the wall.

He sits next to you, rubbing a hand over your shoulders.

“This isn’t the day you had planned,” you say apologetically.

“Which means everything is running normally. Things rarely go by my schedule.” He shrugs, trying not to let it bother him.

You yawn, stretch your arms. “Let’s string the lights. And for your information, I’m going to actually help. Not fall asleep on the couch.”

You fall asleep on the couch.

You wake up to Santiago finishing the lights, wrapping the top of the tree carefully in the string of warm, soft glowing bulbs. The way it hits his beautiful skin. The focus in his eyes as he holds theloop of cord in his left hand and fusses with the placement with his right. How his ass looks as he bends over just a little at the top of the step stool he's using to decorate the last bit.

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” you say as you sit up.

Santiago jumps slightly, surprised you’re awake, and it upsets the step stool. It bobbles precariously, back and forth, and you think it’s going to settle back on all four feet. Except it doesn’t. Santiago shifts his weight, trying to counter balance it, and two of the legs rise off the ground and Santiago goes flying off to the side, hitting the loveseat before he ducks, rolling onto the ground with a loud “oof”, the lights still in his hand. And because the lights are in his hand, like a leash on a dog, it pulls the tree. The whole tree. The entire, carefully lit tree, crashes down on your beloved husband with a colorful thunk!

You rush off the couch. “Oh my God, Santiago. Santiago!”

You push branches aside, trying to get to him. Eventually, you push the tree off of him enough to see him lying flat on his back, arms and legs out, a look of emotionless shock on his face. You brush pine needles out of his eyebrows.

Your hands run over his body, checking for scrapes or cuts. “Are you okay, honey?”

He groans quietly. “Keep doing that, and I will be.”

You slap his chest, sitting back on your heels.

Santiago’s hand curls around your hip. He takes a deep breath, pushing the tree off of him completely, then lies back on the floor. “I’m fine, but I think we’ll have to turn the tree so the side that fell faces the wall. I’m pretty sure one of the branches broke when it hit my rib cage.”

You laugh quietly, but rub his side. “My poor, Santiago.”

His hands gently grab your arms, pulling you down for a kiss.

“You taste like a pine tree,” you joke. “Let me help you up, then we can get the tree upright, wake up the kids to decorate. I’m sure we can still get at least one good photo for the wall.”

Santiago, knees cracking, accepts your help to get up from the floor. He brushes himself off. “Nope, we’re leaving it just like this for awhile.”

You stare at the tree on the ground. It’s taking up most of the space on the living room floor, needles scattered everywhere. Half the lights are blinking, some are steady, and there’s a chunk at the bottom that are totally dark.

“We’ll wake up the kids and get a picture just like this,” Santiago grins.

“But James’ first Christmas picture is perfect. You said-“

He holds up a hand. “I know what I said. Rosie’s first Christmas is already chaos, but in a way, that’s what I want to remember. That the mess is all good, as long as I have you all. It’s not the end of the world. I used to pretend I was all right, even when I wasn’t. I used to pretend I didn’t have any feelings at all. I’m not perfect.”

You nod solemnly. “I’m aware.”

He gives you raised eyebrow. “Smart ass. Look, all I’m saying is that some years look like a Christmas card and some years will look like this," he gestures to the floor. “I’m okay with that. What do you think?”

You can’t hold back your smile. “I think having two kids has made you soft.”

Santiago wraps his arms around your waist, his scruffy chin nuzzling at your neck. “Loving you made me soft. In some ways. And in some ways, very not soft.” He plants little kisses down your neck. “There is part of my schedule that’s still very much intact.”

“Which part?” you ask, a little distracted.

“The part where I get you all to myself later, under this tree right here.”

You lift his face to yours. “You seemed to be just fine under the tree all by yourself a few minutes ago. You two seemed very, very close. In fact, I’m a little jealous about how you just laid there and took it.”

“Ha ha,” Santiago says dryly. He pinches your ass, making you squeal. “Why don’t you get the baby and I’ll get James, and then the four us and my lover, the Fraser fir, can get that picture. Then, we can decorate. I think James is old enough to hang his own ornament this year.”

That one thing, as small an act as it is, brings tears to your eyes.

“No,” Santiago grabs your attention, “don’t start that shit, or I’ll start too.”

“He’s just a baby.” Your breath hitches.

Santiago blinks hard. “He’ll always be our baby. No matter how many things he learns to do on his own.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say unconvincingly. You rub your eyes quickly. “I don’t think you should put all the Christmas pictures up on the wall though. I think it’ll just end up making me cry every morning when I come downstairs.”

Santiago laughs warmly, pulling you in for a tight hug. He kisses the side of your head. “I love you, Mrs. Garcia.”

“I love you too, Mr. Garcia.” You pull away from him with a sigh.

“What?” His eyebrows pull together in concern.

“James isn’t going to want to put on that Christmas sweater. You’re going to have a fight on your hands.”

Santiago leaves his hand around your waist as you head out of the living room and up the stairs. “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting Rosie into that snowman outfit. She’s going to wiggle out of it in about five seconds flat.”

He pauses at the top of the stairs, looks into your eyes.

“Do you really not want the photos to go up every year?” Santiago asks.

“No, I didn’t mean that. I think it’s a great tradition,” you reassure him.

“Good. Me too.” His shoulders sag in relief. “Plus it’ll be fun for James and Rosie and all the other kids to see themselves growing up like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder and walks off into James’ room with a big, “wake up, you ready to celebrate Christmas?”

“All the other kids?” You mutter to yourself as you open the door to Rosie’s room. “All the other kids? We’re going to need a bigger wall, aren’t we?”

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

[silvernight-m]

I'll go cry in a corner. Thanks /lh

You Can’t Always Save Everybody.

(Miguel O’hara x Spidersona!Scarlette Web)

Holiday Special

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

A/N: A break from the regularly scheduled updates for some holiday angst. Takes place in the same universe but before our story takes place. Image By @joycemelanee1 on twitter

Words: 435

It was the first Christmas after Miguel had died. Valentine had been invited to stay With Peter B. and MJ, they had just recently gotten married (for the second time) but despite their newly rekindled love they were more than willing to take in a stray with nowhere to go for the holidays. After dinner, on Christmas eve, Val wandered over to the window that looked out on the city, it had just started to snow, and she couldn’t help but think about last Christmas.

~

Valentine Looks around the room trying to spot Her husband, they had been invited to this Christmas party By the member of a band that was under the same management company as Miguel’s Band “Scarlet’s Web” the place was packed and the music was loud but that was relatively normal for her, Just as she was about to give up and call Miguel to figure out where he was when her spidey senses started to go off and she turned around to see Miguel sneaking up on her with a grin on his face. She gave him a smirk.

“Nice Try Tiger.” She laughs as he looks at her and snaps is fingers.

“Darn, Chiquita. Your pequeña araña abilities always get in the way of my fun” He says with a laugh. He pulled her in close holding on to her waist. “Well not all of my fun.”  He says flirtatiously.

“Whatever do you mean? I don’t think I’m getting in the way of any fun.” She says sarcastically. He laughs.

“No, No of course not. Mi Esposa es el alma de la fiesta.” He says flirtatiously as he grabs her hips sways against her, causing them both to laugh.

“Mi escandaloso marido, causando conmoción.”

“Hey, who you calling escandaloso? Eh?” He chuckles while leading in to nibble on her ear. “Chiquita, Que linda mi niña” He whispers as he continues to move with her in time to the music, their own private dance in the corner of the party.

“Merry Christmas Tiger.”

“Feliz navidad querida”

“You okay Valentine?” Peter B. asks, She had been standing at the window watching the snow fall for a while.

“Hm? Oh yeah…Just a little a haunted by the ghost of Christmas past.”

“I get that. If you need anything…I’d like to say I’m the ghost of Christmas Present. But really that’s just because my presence is a gift.” He winks at her and she laughs.

“Thanks. I’ll be there soon. I promise.” She says before looking out on the snowy scene of Earth-616B.

Won't you bring back my baby to me?

~

Translation

pequeña araña: Little spider

Mi Esposa es el alma de la fiesta.: My Wife is the life of the party

Mi escandaloso marido, causando conmoción: My scandalous husband, causing a commotion.

Chiquita, Que linda mi niña: Little one, how pretty my girl

Masterlist

Tag: @femmeanonymelives

[silvernight-m]

Why did my brain immediately go to Jake 😂

Now whether he’s saying this to someone or someone is saying to him is up for debate.

[silvernight-m]

FEEEEEENNNNNN YOU ALWAYS KNOW HOW TO MAKE AN ARTIST TWIR HER HAIR AND GIGGLE FROM HAPPINESS OF BEING SEEN!!!! THANKYOUSOMUCH!

ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʙɪʀᴅɪᴇ

⋆ Flufftober Entry : Anniversary - Gomez Velvet Suit

It was rare to be asked to get to Anselm's office as he was usually the one visiting you. Upon your arrival, you immediately knew something was bothering your Anselm. He had developed this habit of tracing and retracing his mustache when he was troubled.

"Diese verabscheuungswürdigen Bastarde. Ich schwöre, wenn mein geliebtes Vögelchen nicht Gefallen an ihnen gefunden hätte…" (These despicable bastards. I swear if my beloved birdie hadn't taken a shine to them…) You caught him mumbling onto his finger, nibbling the digit. "Oh mein Vögelchen, du bist all diesen Ärger wert. Allein der Gedanke an deinen sündhaften Mund lässt meinen Schwanz hart werden." (Oh my birdie, you’re worth all this trouble. Just the thought of your sinful mouth alone gets my cock hard.)

Happy Anniversary to my favorite Anselm fic and the very first fic I interacted with properly without knowing the amazing author of it.

My Dear Birdie turned one year old tonight🥹

I can't believe the way @reallyrallyauthor made us all fall in love with a freak man who was on screen for less than 10 minute-ish.

Thank you so much for the universe you created, Rally🧡

《Special thanks to @midgardian-witch 😘for the German parts》

◢ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 3ᴛʜ ◣

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