#I drew this with only my finger and a screen and it took only 3 hours

[mildy-vibing]

I drew Sun holding a little critter. What is it?

A sun bear! They are the smallest species of bear and are native to Southeast Asia! They are called sun bears for the patch of fur on their chest! Thought he would like it since they share a name

Sun belongs to @owlygem and their comic Celestial Somebody! Honestly, I love the big dude and loved using all the cool colors like *chefs kiss*. Hope ya like it!

[peterspinkrobe]

Confession - priest!Miguel O’Hara x Reader [part 2]

Word count: 2,270 (oops)

Rating: mature for suggestive content. Mentions of masturbation. You have a dirty mind… tsk tsk. Religious content. Mentions of parental death (sorry for not tagging last time).

A/N: Thank you for your feral support in reading part 1! The art above is again by @Ejpuki on twt. They drew this moment from part one and JUST LOOK AT IT! They also did a pre-reading which I greatly appreciated. Go support them over there <3 I only tagged the people who explicitly stated bc I don’t want to overstep. Also, I guess I should watch Fleabag? Enjoy! part three is cookin’ in my noggin’

// Psalms 32:3-4

When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me;

Rumbling sounds drone from the engine in a constant hum as the bus wheels roll down the asphalt, occasionally shuffling the passengers inside. Yourself included.

The wheels in your mind are conjuring images of too much skin, friction, and want. The mental pictures… different positions and other things that you’ve only read about - all featuring the same tall deacon from your small church.

You curse yourself for both your overactive imagination and forgetfulness for having left your headphones at home. Some loud music would drown out the whir of the bus and push out the flashes of lewdness that plagued you.

Reverend O’Hara, you learned that’s what transitional deacons are usually called after inquiring about the proper title on Google the second you got home from that communion, occupied the majority of your mind. He took up residence in your thoughts without even asking permission and you didn’t know the proper way to absolve your sanity of him. It had only been two weeks since you’d met him, two Sunday services, but you were hooked. This trip into the city was supposed to get you out of the house and help clear your mind of its recent inhabitant.

The methods you were currently using were certainly of no help. Nearly every night, for the past two weeks, you’d given into temptation. Allowing the streaking images of what you could only envision his toned body looked like to remain longer in your mind’s eye. His thumb on your lip, the quick swipe across - became more inquisitive of the inside of your mouth in your imagination. You pressed into yourself and thought of those long, thick fingers. You carried yourself away on highs with only his hands in mind. You yearned to baptize him in your waters.

You buried fingernails into your palms to ground yourself as the scenery outside the bus began the change drastically, pulling you out of your daydream.

Your hometown along the Catskill Mountains was enveloped by the natural world - tucked into valleys of the vast countryside. In the three weeks you’d been back home, you had already gotten used to surrounding greenery. You’d forgotten the toll that city expansion was having on the rows of vegetable and orchard farms in the surrounding areas.

Your gaze out the window watched tree lines and grassy hills give way to glimmers of futuristic architecture as the bus entered Nueva York. The rhythm of wheels on tarmac became a backdrop to the din of honking horns, shouting pedestrians, and blaring sirens. You had only recently left a city not too different from this one, but the drastic change in landscape from the mountains made your head spin. The inertia of the bus braking and accelerating over and over on the intersecting streets only added to the motion sickness. You recognize the next stop as the usual one you and your mother used when coming into the city. You quickly get off the bus, blessing the steady ground underneath as your boots hit the pavement.

Towering structures of carbon fiber and glass dominated the skyline, some illuminated by bright neon light displays, others blending into the afternoon sunshine. Advertisements for fast foods, fast money, and fast cars flickered on screens everywhere. You look to where the bus carried you from and, in contrast, the countryside stretched out, calling you back. Despite the slight familiarity in the maze of metal, the sudden change in surroundings made you slightly anxious.

The steady stream of citizens didn’t help your nerves either. You take a moment to get yourself together before following the foot traffic flow up a familiar street.

Your eyes recognize a food spot from a bygone era and you can’t help but smile. You picked up the pace as you headed to the establishment your family used to frequent. Timeless Treats is still here?! You pull on the long handled door and a wave of music, chatter, and sugar hit you at once. Much more pleasant than the waves of anxiety from moments before.

Entering the quaint eatery, you’re transported into a cozy atmosphere reminiscent of an old fashioned diner. A cheerful man at the front waves you in and shouts for you to ‘sit where ya want!’.

You recognized the vintage decor: rusted signs with cartoon mascots and ads for ice cream floats that cost only $2. Imagine! You select one of the smaller retro tables with two stools and hear a jukebox play a song you don’t recognize but tap your foot along to.

There was more to this diner than what it seems at first glance. A few more glances noticed the subtle touches where the diner had embraced the future where it mattered, with high-tech kitchen appliances that helped the staff immensely. A holographic menu pops up across the portion of the table you're sitting at and you slide your finger along the options.

This bakery specialized in delicious treats with a futuristic flare, with many favorites being popular since the establishment opened generations ago. Your eyes fell onto the pastry menu and your curiosity piqued as you ordered the ‘Time Traveler’s Torta.’

All the hustle of the city had occupied your mind until you were sitting alone at the table. Your eyes scanned the other occupants and you wondered what they were all talking about with their sugary sweets. It made you think of him again.

Dammit. A whole ten minutes without thinking of Reverend O’Hara, that’s a record! You couldn’t help the images of Miguel that fluttered now. Only this time you pictured him sitting at the table with you. The two of you share a dessert and you smile at the thought. You visualize his thumb coming to your face to wipe whipped cream from your lips only to plop the finger into his own mouth. That moment as mass replayed in your mind with differing flavors of spice on repeat.

The torta arrives and you gawk at the presentation of the treat. A classic cake with layers of light vanilla sponge, intricately placed swirls of sweet cream cheese frosting, and decadent chocolate sauce. This sweet was the perfect balance of timeless and futuristic as it sat on an oblong, ornate plate.

You savored the flavors as you ate and continued to imagine a date with the deacon. You ask yourself if deacons can even date and the thought pulls you out of your delusions for a moment. Get it together…

As you scooped the last bits of the pastry into your mouth, you pondered your dilemma. Mom always said that confession cleared a clouded consciousness, but there was no way you’d divulge this information to her. Her hypothetical reaction to your crush on a clergy member makes you shiver.

An idea comes to mind that makes you think to yourself that you’ve really gone mad.

The madness pushes you from your seat after paying for the dessert. There’s a slim chance what you’re looking for is actually there considering the cities expansions. That doubt doesn’t stop you from following a semi-recognizable path down the busy streets.

Every tall figure you pass makes you do a double take. The idea of the deacon brushing alongside you making you smile. You turn a corner as your imagination creates sweet scenarios with Reverend O’Hara and stop in your tracks. You cause people behind you to push into your back and spit harsh murmurs at you.

It was still there.

You were surprised for good reason. You were headed towards a relic of past times, nestled between buildings of glass and metal. There was some scaffolding supporting it as the building you headed towards was centuries old. Other than that - the structure you now stood and stared at jutted towards the sky in the old brick and mortar style you were used to seeing in your hometown.

But the Cathedral of Nueva York wasn’t like the humble church in your hometown. The ornate bell tower and large cross atop the chapel in front of you proved that. The only thing to change about the building was the name as the state itself saw many changes a few decades ago - including the name of the actual city.

You find yourself reminiscing on the few times you’d been to the church as you walked inside. Your family used to attend the fancy Easter services and Christmas plays. Those trips stopped after your father passed, and your mother rarely came to the city at all anymore. You remember seeing pictures of them on their wedding day at this very church. Priesthood is a tight knit group and Father Steen knew the head priest, who extended their church for their wedding services.

Given it was a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many souls inside. Despite the numerous options for seating, you sat in your usual middle pew, aisle seat.

You eyed the part of the church that had brought you here in the first place. The confession booth. Its cherrywood exterior made you think of those eyes that bore into yours that day of communion. You shake your head but the visual remains.

The church in your hometown didn’t have a confessional booth. Even if they did - why the hell would you confess there? To the subject of your lustful desires? So many questions and doubts enter your mind.

Could you really do this? Confess to a priest that you pined over a man in his chaste brotherhood? Think of the judgment!

Another thought occurs to you: their whole shtick was that only one entity could do the judging. And it was confidential. If you received some good ol’ fashioned Catholic scolding and Hail Mary’s, maybe that would be enough to get you back to your senses. Reverend O’Hara is a man devoted to God and cannot be hindered by the whims of a degenerate like yourself.

Emboldened by the potential to relieve yourself of your corrupt thoughts, you stand and approach the far right front of the church. The confessional is smaller than it looked from how you remember as a child and teen but it doesn’t stop you from nearly yanking the door open. You don’t even knock.

Thankfully no one is on the confessing side as you burst into the tiny box. The confined space became even smaller as you closed the door behind you quickly. Your mind races towards impure thoughts of the deacon pressed against you in the tight booth space. His height would force him to bend slightly over you and the visual almost knocks you onto the bench which would probably be right at crotch level…

You remember the times you’d done this before and cry out the usual, “Forgive me, for I have sinned and it has been many years since my last confession…”. Who were you even asking for forgiveness? You think for a moment about the last time you were in this booth. You felt so guilty about stealing from the general store all those years back. This was a different kind of confession. This would hopefully absolve yourself of the sinful attraction to the forbidden.

You start light, fumbling over the words, “I’ve gotten drunk and high, uh, a good bit while in college. I lied to my mother and got into major trouble as a result. I’ve been selfish and lazy.”

The anonymity and the release of it all lit a fire under you and you kept going.

“While I’m in this confession booth, and I know it is a sacred and holy place”, you sigh and hear shuffling on the opposite side of the wall, the priest waiting patiently on the other side. “I’ve been struggling with my faith and don’t believe in god…”

You hear the clergyman start to interject but the voice that comes out of you has a fierce tone.

“I’m not done.” Now it was the priest’s turn to sigh and you see movement through the small slits in the partition, but hear nothing else. You continue. The most scandalous part to admit had yet to be said.

“Father, I’ve been lustful over the deacon at my church.” There’s silence on the other end and before embarrassment can take over you continue, “I’m constantly thinking of him and having impure thoughts that drive me to-“ oh god, here it is

“Touch myself. Daily. With this deacon on my mind.” You can’t stop the heat from painting your cheeks a deep red.

“I feel guilty because he isn’t for me to think that way about. From just the two times I’ve seen him, I know he is a good man who does good things. He’s on a path towards righteousness. He’s worthy.” To your shock, you feel tears form and they begin to fall.

“I’m a sinful nonbeliever. Definitely not someone he could be with, unworthy of devotion of any kind. And I’m not good.” Your breathing becomes shaky as the tears fall harder. Despite the fact that you feel your words are the truth, you can’t help but imagine him there now. Comforting you as you cry.

Now that you’ve finished confession, you expect to hear an outburst of disapproval or at least ‘50 Hail Mary’s’ to absolve you of your confessed transgressions.

But that’s not what you heard next.

You hear your name. You hear your name in that sweet music that’s been ringing in your ears the last week or so. This time the musical tone is cautious. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief as your eyes glue to the wall where the music came from.

To confirm your suspicions, you grab the knob on the partition and yank it back.

Through the small window you see a familiar pair of eyes analyzing your face, heavy with worry.

Reverend O’Hara had just taken your confession…

I pray you liked this, dear reader.

Tagged ppl - @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts it won’t let me tag you @hoelychildofgod

[i80010]

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

[wytybbyds]

I'm just looking out for my girl

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary - you talk to JJ at the movies

Warnings - none really

A/n - First fic on here, feedback is appreciateeeeed <3 i was imagining this with s2 but this pic fit sooooo

You walked with the three boys towards the open area where people took their seats in front of the big screen. Kelce and Topper walked in front of you, chattering about parties. Rafe walked by your side, his arm occasionally brushing against yours when the both of you took a step with the opposite foot. They chose a place at the far back as they unfolded the camping chairs they brought. Placing them on the ground in a row.

”Bro, what about my chair?” You groaned at Topper after you saw that there were only three chairs in front of you.

”Uuuuh.” Topper's hand went up to scratch at the back of his neck as he looked over the chairs that were indeed only three. As he didn't seem to have a response, Rafe tugged at your arm. You turned to him and he led you with him to the chair on the far left.

“We can share.” He murmured as he sat down onto the chair tugging you with him before you could protest. You landed with your ass on his lower thighs. Big hands came up on the side of your waist tugging you further up his lap, your back lining up with his chest.

As the movie played Rafes finger drew circles on your upper thigh just at the end of your shorts. During the movie boredom crept upon you and you caught yourself with half closed eyelids. You turned your head to the side, your lips landing close to Rafes.

”I'm gonna get a drink.” You whispered. Rafe gave a slight nod at that and by the armrests of the chair you pushed yourself up on your feet. You walked out from the audience of the movie making your way towards the drink stand. The man in the stand was wiping the table off with a cloth as you approached. His eyes came up to meet yours as he smiled welcomingly at you. He threw the cloth to the side wiping his hands off on the apron hanging around his neck.

”A beer, thank you.” You placed some cash on the table pushing it towards him.

”Right up.” He grabbed the cash, shoving it into his back pocket. You smiled at him as you leaned your elbows onto the table watching as he started to pour it up.

”If it isn't Lil looking as pretty as ever.” You turned at the mention of your name. Meeting the face of none other than JJ Maybank a smile tugging at his lips.

”Whats up.” Our hands meet in a handshake. The one he and his friends had taught me, that they had in their friend group.

”Yeah, yeah all good. You?" He pulled out some cash from his back pocket, putting it down onto the table at our side.

”Bored out of my mind, but good.” You chuckle while JJ holds up four fingers at the guy in the stand.

”You here with the others?” You ask looking out at the audience, seeing if maybe you could see them if he was.

”Yeah.” He points them out in the audience. You follow his hand as you spot Kie and Pope sitting in the middle.

”Over there, and you?” He jerked his head towards me.

”Rafe, Topper and Kelce.” He snorted as he shook his head averting his eyes.

”Of course.” He muttered under his breath. Seemingly a little annoyed.

”What?” Although knowing the answer you asked anyway. You had not lived in Kildare for that long, but long enough to know that kooks and pogues didn't have the best of relationships. Especially the two groups you hung out with.

”Don't like ‘em.” He shrugged, his lips pressing together in a thin line. The man at the stand pushed your drink towards you and you watched the liquid in it gup. You looked up at the blond haired boy again.

"C'mon JJ.” The boy locked eyes with you watching the unserious look on your face. Your eyes telling him to stop acting up.

”They're not that bad.” He coughed a laugh at you.

”Not that bad?” He shook his head in disbelief.

”He gotta be hitting it pretty good then.” His tone turned suggestive.

”Bro, shut your mouth.” You said with a slightly amused look on your face. But you coulndt help but also feel a tad bit flustered at his comment. He just grinned and you rolled your eyes looking away hiding the feeling from him.

”Hey, im always here if he cant get the job done.” He leaned in his breath hitting your face. He was obviously joking and his teeth tugged playfully at his bottom lip.

”Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off trying to hide your smile, finding him amusing. As your head turned away, eyes looking over the crowd. They landed on the three boys that had your company. All three intently watched the interaction between you and JJ. Cold stares were thrown your way. The boy in front you still leaned in close.

”Uh oh, now i'm in trouble.” JJ whispered, a sarcastic tone to his voice. He referred to the boys watching us and you chuckled at his comment turning your head back to him.

”Nah, fuck this shit.” Rafe rose from his camping chair, almost knocking it over from the quick movement. Irritation towards the blond boy at your side bubbled up inside him. He threw the empty plastic cup to the side as he took long strides towards the drink stand.

You picked up your drink as you watched JJs eyes look past your shoulder. His previous soft features faded and was replaced with a cold one.

”Sup Rafe.” His tone was short and had nothing friendly about it. You turned your head slightly seeing the tall boy now stand beside you.

”Whats up, Maybank.” Rafe returned JJs stern voice, his hands deep in his pockets as he looked intently at him.

”Not much, just getting drinks.”

”Yeah, you have 'em.” He said back, nodding his head towards the table where four drinks now stood. JJ grabbed the four drinks in his two hands slightly struggling to pick them up.

”You want help.” You giggled, reaching your hand out to give him support.

”Nah, it's all good princess.” The tall boy beside you chuckled darkly at JJ words. You just smiled at the boy as he turned around and walked away. You turned towrads Rafe, his eyes glued to JJ watching him walk away. His eyes then laid upon you, his stare intimidating. He moved closer, his broad shoulders caging you in hiding you from curious eyes.

”The fuck you talking to JJ for?” He said calmly.

”He's my friend.” You stated.

“Friend.” He muttered under his breath, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he averted his eyes.

”You giggle and shit like that with all your little friends?” His piercing eyes came back and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. His hatred towards the boy getting slightly on your nerves.

”Hey, you gon’ answer me?” His voice grew meaner as his hands came up and gripped your shoulders.

”Yeah maybe I do.” You snapped, growing annoyed by him. His hands fell back to his side, confusion now apparent in his blue eyes.

”Why are you so bitchy?” His eyebrows scrunched up and a look of distaste took over his features.

”Bro.” You deadpanned. ”You're the one freaking out about me literally being social.” He looked away at that, his lips pressed tightly together. He stepped closer, his chest almost brushing up against yours.

”I'm just looking out for my girl, yeah?” You bent your neck back to look at his face. Your head tilted slightly to the side, your heart couldn't help but to flutter at the words. My girl.

”Yeah?” He repeated, longing for your reassurance. You met his eyes that had turned softer. How did he make you go from irritated to this feeling, whatever it was, in such a short amount of time. Now you felt content all of a sudden.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

”Mhm.” You nodded at him, a soft smile on your lips.

”Good, good.” He looked down at your intertwined hands before he tugged you along with him. Back towards your seats. As you were walking you caught JJ staring your way. But his eyes were not you. Rather your hand, holding Rafes. When you got back to Kelce and Topper, Rafe tugged you down onto his lap again. His hands now placing themselves onto either side of your waist. He smiled for himself knowing that he had purposely left the fourth camping stool at home.

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝙎𝙖-𝙏𝙤-𝙍𝙪

CHARACTER— yandere!gojo x fem!reader CONTENTS— yandere themes, stalking, hidden camera bear thingy, slight angst? IDKK gojo is just gross asf, noncon, intoxicated!reader, worshipping kink, DELUSIONALL‼️‼️‼️, slight fingering idk, sex yuh A/N— someone requested 4 sum more yandere jjk so here’s him 😇😇 might do the others when I feel liek it (ok I’m sorry this kinda gross, it’s literally 3 am rn)

The lustre of his eyes glimmered against the reflection of the screen, his face turning rubicund was evidence of the blood rushing underneath his cheeks. Sweat flecked across his palms, marginally soiling his pants when he rubbed his hands on them.

Your eyes stared straight into his, and he thought your orbs must be of millions of blended colours for them to glint in iridescent. The sliver of rays from the screen pierced his irises, and he swore the sight of you must be cleansing his soul.

He sucked his lips as you played with the toy bunny’s hands, and a smile reached your face before you pressed the soft toy into your chest, clutching it in your arms as you sighed something. Something that started with Sa and ended with Ru. His mind must be playing tricks on him, right? It couldn’t be that—

Then there it comes again, the cadence of your voice, the shape of your lips, and his name that you whispered. Sa-To-Ru.

The Sa whose eyes would only trail behind your wake, the To that breathed just for the air that you exhaled, and the Ru that didn’t believe God lives in heaven, because there was you, his Goddess that walked the Earth amongst the sinful humanity.

Satoru. He thought he had never loved his name even more than that moment.

But he found himself wrong—oh so wrong.

You sounded even more euphonious sprawled out before him, intoxicated with alcohol on your tongue and in your veins—not a clue about where you are and what’s going on. All you could gather was the familiar mop of silver in your foggy sight, and how the world seemed to be on vertigo.

The bits and pieces of recollections you could grasp onto in your besotted state were the hours spent drinking bottles of liquor, giggling at the charming jokes and teases from Gojo. Then the clashes of teeth and his hands on your chest, the long ride up an elevator, and stumbling onto a bed that smelled like him.

“My name…” he panted when his head rose from your jugular—marked and claimed through teeth and tongue. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressing his lips against your jaw as he took in a drag of your ambrosial scent, long fingers pumping in and out of your squeezing cunt.

You frowned, moaning into the torrid air that bubbled around the two of you and arching your back when an orgasm tumbled through, warmth pervading through your core when pleasure glitched over your body like static.

His name doesn’t read past your lips, but your groan of pleasure was enough for him to render him halcyon. Lining his painfully pulsing head to your slick entrance, the dilatory push of his fat tip into your folds made a cry ripple through both of your throats. In you he found warmth that tasted like divinity; the forbidden fruit between the thighs of his Goddess.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that your grip would tempt an orgasm in him to soil your quim with his load. His thumb drew circles upon your clit, trying to mitigate the tight clench of your cunt in the wake of your previous orgasm.

Your muscles finally relaxed in a few rubs, and he let his length ease into you, your hole still pulsing and spasming as his cock filled your insides. Gojo’s chest fluttered with rapture as he groaned for your name, almost as if he was trying to have you look at him, fully sober instead of laying crumpled on his bed.

But you don’t, your eyes remained still shut, and only the little whimpers and cries that fell off the edges of your lips denoted your senses still awake yet torpor from the inebriation.

“Please, look at me?”

You groaned when he benignly lifted your jaw, his sense of deify for you felt through his cold fingertips before his lips meld into yours. Your mouth lax open, letting his tongue taste the heaven off of yours and swallow your saliva of ambrosia down his throat.

When he withdrew from your face with a dense cloud over your heads, he found the hues of your orbs peering into his summer’s blue sky, your eyelashes fanning the heat over his cheeks. His heart jumped and paced, and he was sure you could hear his heartbeat. Could you?

“Satoru…?” you whispered. The tang of liquor blazing strongly in your system, but you still managed to recognise him. “Wha–Where are we? And wha—”

You were cut off from your words when his lips crashed into yours, and his hips began pistoning in and out of you, your moans jumbled between your dancing mouths before sizzling in the hot air. Your walls tightened around his girth as he pumped deep into you, his cock throbbing and threatening ejaculation, but he would rather abnegate himself from pleasure if you hadn’t succumbed to it.

Every stroke of his swollen head against the bump of your g-spot made you gasp and cry with the stimulation, palms desperately attempting to push the weight of the male off, but it simply came to piteous futility.

At his last stroke, your squirting cunt squeezed his cock tight and wet his pelvis, and his load began filling your inside to the brim, thick spurts of cum shooting at your cervix as you screamed his name.

The Sa who you could taste on your tongue, the To who swore you’re the lone fire to his loins, and the Ru who promised to never let your divinity step a single foot out of his door—your temple, to walk the earth soiled by sinning humans.

Satoru—the priest to your Holiness.

© toji-bunny-girl― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[lambsouvlaki]

The Crime Lord - 3

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings

Word Count: 740

Summary: Jason never stopped his crime lord ways, but he did find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Masterlist

In the early hours of the morning, she sat in a chair in the medical facility Red Hood’s most secure compound. 

Jason lay unmoving on the bed.

He was more gauze than skin. 

She had been too horrified to weep when she saw his injuries at first. During the long hours of surgery she broke down and bawled her eyes out. His lieutenants tried to give her privacy throughout the night, but mostly had to settle for not making eye contact. 

When the morning came she dried her eyes. Out of place civilian or not, she was the Red Hood’s partner and she didn’t weep while there was work to be done. Even if her heart felt like it was going to cave in on itself. 

She sat at his side with a laptop in front of her. The screen kept going dark. Jason’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Flint-” he croaked.

“He’s dead.” His traitorous second in command hadn’t survived the night. “Anja took his place. Something called protocol delta, apparently.” 

He breathed out a long sigh, his eyes falling shut again. His bandaged chest rose and fell. “Good. Good.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat at getting to hear him again, lucid and whole, more or less. She put her things aside and dragged her chair closer to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been cooked.”

“You did look like a hotdog forgotten at the back of the grill for a while there.” 

He scoffed a laugh, then whined in pain. She bit her lip. “Lots of skin grafts in your near future… but you’re going to be alright.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked to her, the only part of him he could really move right now. There was a fear in his eyes that shattered her heart. 

“Yeah.” Her fingers brushed over his exposed forearm, one of the few parts of him she could actually touch. She grasped his wrist tight. “The world’s not taking you from me today.” 

“Sweetheart.” 

She leaned forward and brushed her lips softly as she could over the exposed wedge of his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed. His good arm rose a quarter inch further into her hold. 

When the moment drew to a close she sank back into her chair. His eyes looked damp. She didn’t want to make a fuss but he didn’t look away or gruffly clear his throat. 

“You know... I had a thought while falling into the fire,” he said. His voice was scratchy but strong. “A couple of thoughts actually. Like ‘I can’t believe I’m getting blown to death again,’ and ‘should’ve seen that coming.’”

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

“But more than all of that,” he said, ignoring her interjection, “I wished I’d married you.”

Her eyes widened. “Jay…”

“I thought… ‘you idiot. Didn’t even marry the girl of your dreams. And she was right there. Gonna leave behind a wonderful woman… who deserved better.’” He swallowed and looked at her sincerely. “You deserve better.”

“Are you proposing or breaking up with me?” she said with a laugh and tears in her eyes. “Full disclosure, the wrong answer here will get you yelled at.” 

“I’m proposing.” His thumb brushed her knuckle. “Should have gotten a ring. Sorry. I’ll get you one later. Didn’t want to waste any more time.” 

She tried to hold back a watery grin and failed. “I’m not hearing a question.” 

He smiled back as much as he could. 

“Baby. Sweetheart. My darling,” he drawled. Wrapped up like a mummy and still a cocky bastard, that was her Jay. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “‘Course I will.” 

 “You’re the most beautiful, clever, patient, amazing woman in the whole world.”

She leaned forward and kissed the scarred skin of his wrist. “Then we’re matching. Because you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

He blinked through glassy eyes. “That can’t be true.” 

“I wouldn’t have anyone else, Jay.”

The tears burst their banks and travelled down his cheeks to soak into bandages and gauze. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

She cradled his cheek lightly. He closed his eyes and leaned incrementally into it. 

She pulled her chair up as close as she could and leaned forward to rest her head against the empty side of his pillow. They enjoyed the closeness. 

“What happened to Flint?” he asked some time later.

“I shot him,” she said quietly.

“What!”

[chorizoa]

Entrail of faith — König x f!reader

part 2!!!!!!!! part 2 part 2 part 2!!!

pt.1 is here

I would like to state that I'm literally just throwing myself into this and letting the thoughts blurb; so if it seems messy, loose, or unorganized its bc I am trying my best :) sorry in advance for anything that may seem plot-holey, geographically incorrect, etc. please feel free to comment on my use of language, setting, wtv— I love feedback and want you guys to enjoy it!!!

this one is also a bit longer tee-hee, and also more revoling around you!

cw: more of konig being a stalker, more talk of kidnap and the like, very brief mention of a daddy kink/use of daddy as a title (its more of a sugar baby kinda way, but hes also just gross), he wants to take full advantage of you, he is very nasty but he loves you so :3

no sex.. yet.

You were a smart girl, but maybe if you were a smarter girl, you wouldn't find yourself staring at an empty message log— thumbs dancing over the screen while you gnaw, and gnaw, and gnaw at that pretty lower lip.

It's insane of you, you think. Giving salt to the interest of a stranger, a man who was clearly dangerous— could so obviously kill you given the chance— one you'd caught glances of during your shifts, always seeming to show up only when you work.. But— Christ.

  The years had not been kind, and being a girl settling into her early twenties, a totally foreign land to start a new life in— not a single soul to keep her warm— well, it embeds a certain sense of desperation. Perfect for men like König. Who, of course, could barely handle a woman under any legitimate means.

Inexperience dripped off of you like a waning ooze, glistening with incompetence for what you could be experiencing— a misted perfume that engulfed you, an aura that "spooked" most anyone anywhere near your age. It kept you at lengthy reach from others, and plastic toys had become your only solace in the pariah'ed life you've lived.

Not him, though, it drew him in— and he could taste it on his tongue, swirl it against his gums and swallow like the loveliest shot of Jager. You would be his favorite spirit to indulge in, and all you needed to do was speak.

He already knew your name, of course he did; so when you texted him— confirming that, yes, this was the cute girl from the diner, and frivolously providing your sweet name in your fluster— it didn't surprise him, but it did make him purr with satisfaction. You were so much closer now, so much easier to bend to his will than you could imagine.

Retirement wouldn't be too bad, it seemed.

Perfect, actually, when he really thought about it. Enough savings in the bank to keep him comfortable until he died of old age, or took an unexpected bullet in the neck; and with the added addition of you? Oh, he was going to bask in heaven's light every night. God had sent him his very own angel— maybe he'd pray, just to say thanks.

He wasn't worried about you not liking him— no, not a bit. It wasn't a choice in his mind, either you liked him, or you didn't… and what he had in mind for if you didn't — well.. it was a particularly nasty thing, and he certainly wasn't bringing it up in therapy. Lest he enjoy the comfort of a solitary, padded room with a jacket to match his confinement— maybe even a damp cell, if they felt so generous.

He was going to have you, whether he had to chain you up in his basement, chain you to his bed post, adorn you with a proximity collar— it didn't. matter.

He was going to have you, and you would have him— a smart girl like you would understand, right? He only wants what's best for you.

That's why he followed you home tonight. Silly girl, don't you know you should take the trolley? There's so many bad, scary men out here— you're lucky he watches your every step, and memorizes the direct path to your home from the shadows, someone could hurt you, sweet girl— and he'd have to make a mess, just for you.

He even watched as you poised your fingers to text him, that sharp sight was a blessing— and observing you as you gnaw at your bottom lip until it swelled was stored into a deep, dark part of his mind for later. Ever still, he found it so amusing how oblivious you were— you should really scan your surroundings more.

Though, when he made it to your home— he found a deep frown tugging at him. Oh, this simply would not do. This was not the place to be for his princess, his darling girl— no, not at all.

This rundown complex was much too grimy for one as stunning as you, everything paled in comparison to you— of course it did, nothing mattered like you— but this was just.. sad, nobody as lovely as you deserved to be so impoverished. The dappled foundation, the assumed stench of cigarettes that must cling to the walls within— he had to get you out of there, and fast.

He almost considered marching in right then, ripping you from the safety of your supposed "home"— but he knew better of it. You needed to be won delicately, you were so sweet, but wracked with nerves like a stumbling fawn— one wrong move, a step too quick, and you'd bolt— he could smell fear, and you held it like a cross to bear. That didn't keep him from feeling angry, however.

He was going to pray, offer thanks, but not anymore. No gracious lord would allow such divinity to suffer like this— no self-proclaimed "God of Man" would allow their subject to wallow in such filth. His sweet girl, he was going to give you much more— so much more than this. He would do what God had failed to. He would help you to understand the divinity of man— and what he had to offer. Father was roiling in his grave at the sacrilege.

That was a nice piece to chew on as he walked back to his car— of course he parked elsewhere, home was much too far to walk from— stuck in a wish-washy daydream of you worshipping him, kneeled at his feet and devoted just as you should be. He'd make it better, he'd make it all better, you need only give him time.

— What are you doing tomorrow night, maus?

He texts, already churning with ideas. Most of them are to capture you, of course, but we've established this— we can't do this. However, he is on the more mundane side of things, wondering how he can somehow pay your rent for a few months— or atleast until he can coax you out of that fucking hellscape in the worst part of town. Regardless, totally normal, gentleman-like, things.

— I work a shift from 17:30-21:00 tmrw night :( but I'll be free after work!!

You're even cute with the way you text, so fitting of you— it makes him chuckle, especially with how quickly you'd replied. In his mind, you're hovering over the phone, jumping at every notification in hopes of it being him.

— No worries, little one, I'd like for you to get your rest. Maybe I could walk you home tomorrow, get to know each other?

He's as articulate as ever, feeling as if you'd appreciate his use of grammar and pronunciation— he hopes you read books, he'd buy you a million books, make you read to him while he bounced you on his knee— maybe you'd call him daddy, if he spoiled you enough. He had so many plans for you, it almost made his head hurt, though his cock absorbed most of his rushing blood.

— That would be lovely :)

It would be, wouldn't it? He'd already walked you home now, you just hadn't known it (you'd never know,) and he'd be able to spend tomorrow evening staring at you the whole time— hence why he memorized the path, and for.. other reasons; but those weren't currently relevant, now were they?

— Good. See you then, Engel.

He could see you now, punching these little nicknames into a poorly guided translator— the blush smattering across your soft little cheeks, your eyes creasing as you couldn't help that smile— God, even the small things about you made his palms itch. He was so excited to have you, hold you, touch and use you when he got close enough. It wouldn't be long now.

He was always so good at planning things.

-

The following evening was a rampage. A festival, perhaps, had ripped through the small town— something about music, either way, the streets were eruptive with fervor.

You, just starting out here, are not well accustomed to this area's cultures— and when the café becomes swamped? Well, you're definitely fritzing for some form of substance. Anything to keep a smile on your face while grown adults trash your place of work, and the surrounding area, in a drunken wake. For crying out loud, you barely knew the language here, and people tend to forget any English instruction they've had once a fiery drink hits their system.

Austria. It'd be the death of you.

Forced to close early due to the mess— much to the dismay of drunk, middle-aged men looking for something greasy to fill their maws— the last hour of your day was spent putting a rag to the wall, the floors, the windows; anything your mind could think of, it had to be cleaned. Tired was an understatement, and 'aching' could not be a severe enough adjective for the sensation settling in your joints.

Maybe if you were a more aggressive person, you'd take it out on your manager. Take a bottle of bleach and splash it in his eyes, maybe a bit of strangulation— that was always on the forefront of your concious— and especially now, as he stood outside and lackadaisically sweeped at the "dirty" corner the building sat on. The lazy fuck, can't even make a proper payroll— the bleach sounded a bit more enticing.

You of course shove these thoughts into the supply closet, along with all the other cleaning products that had been collected from their strewn about positions across the diner. It was almost time to go home, maybe ten minutes or so— and you were getting paid for your last hour, come hell or high water. Rent didn't pay itself, and you almost wish you hadn't treated yourself last night to delivery with that tip König slipped to you— could've been handy.

If only you knew how he was itching to have you practically keep his wallet, you'd find out soon anyways.

You stood behind the bar, leaned into it with a placid expression on your face— slumped and tired, and there was no taming your hair. You partially wanted to cancel the little walk you had so eagerly agreed too, but thought better of it— exhaustion ate at you, however, almost in an irritable sense. The urge to cancel just got stronger, and stronger.

Until he was spotted down the street, that almost completely soured your mood— had not the very sight of him set your pulse to palpitate uncomfortably quick. You took a minute to really observe him, at least from a far. He was giant, no doubt about it— regardless of your size or shape, he dwarfed you, and he didn't have to be up close and personal to tell.

His face was mostly obscured, little black mask hanging across his features— this time around though, no sunglasses to hide his eyes— you were fluttering with excitement at the thought of someone's eyes, Jesus, you're kinda weird. Desperate girl, aren't you?

Regardless, he seemed a bit more.. exposing of himself— and, he was here before the agreed time, like an actual fucking man would do.

Huh, maybe the big giant wasn't a bad choice.

Maybe you just didn't know him well enough.

— Schatz! Nice to see you..

He was warm, inviting. If you didn't have sense in your head, you'd climb into his strong-looking arms, beg him to carry you home like a whiny child— of course, you didn't. Only offering him a smile, and taking his arm as he offered it— the sight making your heart stir a little more.

— Nice to see you too, König. I hope it wasn't too much trouble getting here, I know it's a mess out here right now.

You laugh, but you feel almost guilty for making him come all this way. Yes, he offered, yes, he came here anyways— but Innsbruck during a music festival wasn't exactly.. controlled, and he didn't seem to be the type to like crowds. Something you understood, and sensed very quickly.

— Nonsense, even more of a reason for me to accompany you, little one. Keep you safe.

He gives your arm a squeeze with his free hand, it's soft, gentle— so unexpected from hands that looked as if they could rip your throat out. A frisson of heat creeped it's way up your spine. You'd never been the type to depend on someone, or need someone— but hearing him speak that way.. it was definitely flipping some form of switch inside you.

— You're very kind.

You hum in response, taking a step closer to him as you walked— and he kept his eyes on you the whole time, the route burned into his mind. Though, your phrase did not fall on deaf ears— and he had to keep himself from shoving his tongue down your throat right there— you cannot say things like that to him, you are too good and pure.

— To you, at the very least.

— Why's that?

— Why not?

Banter could be good for the soul, and you almost felt desperate when he looked down to you— eyes creasing from what could only be a smirk. You felt flustered under his gaze, small and compact, but.. safe. Watched over, and protected.

Something about his eyes, his demeanor— the way he so graciously walked you along and made sure you didn't step on a single crack or bump in the sidewalk— it tip, tip, tipped you over into a fuzzy headspace you hadn't felt before. Something small, something compact, something malleable.

— Dunno. Men aren't usually kind.

— Boys, then. You are much too beautiful to be handled by a boy.

You cocked a brow at his statement, an amused chuckle leaving your tired lips. He was a strange man, no doubt caring, but even you could tell he harbored things— kept himself from saying and doing things that might be taken incorrectly, or be downright abhorrent. You should be afraid of him, you should run for the hills and scream for help, you should sense the predator who already has his claws dug deep into your skin. 

But you don't, and you don't think you ever would.

Call it string theory, call it hope, call it desperation or an offered entrail— but you placed faith in him, praying that he wouldn't make decorations of your guts— because something more spoke to you, something outside of the two of you held you together steadfast. Mother had always told you to heed universal implications.

— Are you from around here, König?

— Nein, places like this..? eh, not my style. The mountains are much quieter, prettier.

Just how far had this guy traveled? Innsbruck had mountains, yeah, but it wasn't the most secluded of places— quiet didnt exist here. You had to gauge that maybe he blew in from Salzburg, it got less noisy and more rocky the further you went along the North chain. Either way, it was clear to you now that he wasn't just strolling about, he definitely had an agenda.

— Mm. Quite right, starting to regret settling down in such a busy area. I've always enjoyed the quiet.

— Agreed.. What brings you to Austria, Maus?

A good question, a fine one. You didn't know, you got a lump sum from a dead relative— and took off running. America never suited you, and the country was falling to ruins; what would you have stayed for?

— Something refreshing.

— ..And that is..?

— Sights, sounds, self-recognition- I'm unsure, but it's better than home.

He seemed to understand that, a knowing hum vibrating through the berth of his chest. He curled your arm closer to his body, your hip brushing against him as he took an even, slow pace— clearly difficult for him, but you could only move so fast.

The closeness felt nice in that moment, like it was unnecessary to share words— just enough had been said. It was a different sensation flowing through you. Yes, to be frank, you'd been lusting over him since he gave you his number— a little attention can go a long way— but it was different. That feeling of safety was blanketed with another— familiarity.

— Any family, libeling?

— Estranged, haven't spoken to them in years.

Another knowing hum, but it was followed by an amused sound— a chuckle. If the melancholy of the fact hadn't been refreshed, the sound would've made you pounce like a starved animal. He was attractive as all hell— and you didn't even need to see his full face.

— What's funny?

You try not to sound offended, you aren't, not really. Though, his amusement is of interest to you.

— Nothing, I assure you. It just seems that you and I are very similar. You are an interesting little thing.

— Ha! I'm as face value as they come, I promise you that.

— Don't be so humble, it's unnecessary for a lovely girl like you. I'll be the judge of that.

It was almost as if he was scolding you, but you brushed it off with an amused huff of air— leaning into his shoulder as he walked you along. You could stop his heart with such a thing, you saw him so much differently than others, didn't you? What a rare girl you were.

He wound an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him. He was surprised by his own boldness, but the energy you held was so.. comforting, something in his core shook at the sensation— like a blockage finally being relieved. It could only get sweeter when you returned the gentle grasp, slipping an arm over his slender back.

— I.. this made my night better. Thank you.

You blushy little angel, of course, of course, anything for you. Oh, he needed to give you the world. He'd start a war for you— his very own Helen of Troy.

— Of course, sweet girl. Need to make sure you get home safe and happy, ja?

You laugh and squeeze his side, and he's pushing down another round of nasty thoughts like burning tequila. You have him chomping at the bit for every artifice of your affection.

— Such a gentleman..

— As I was raised to be, Schatz.

It burns him when he has to drop you off at that complex.. again. He wants nothing more than to take you home, invite you to a bed much-too-big, suffocate you in thread counts your wallet couldn't fathom— but it was much too soon, and you were much too angelic for him to ever want to spook you.

It burns you in turn, looking up at him with a shy smile. You want to invite him in, have him over for the night— but it seems you both agree on the terms of "much too soon", and you can't help but feel insecure at the.. state.. of your livingspace. It's nothing lavish, and it's moorish— maybe some other time.

— We should do this again.. I enjoyed this.

— I agree, liebling. Let me know when you work next, hm? Or maybe when you're free, I'll come visit you.

He made you feel as blushy as a school-girl, like you were a gift wrapped in fine bows just for him.

— I'll send you my schedule.

— Guten Mädchen.. I'll see you later then.

And, as if the gods had their hands on your shoulders, he leaned in— pulling his mask down just enough to kiss the top of your head before swiftly moving it back into place, and giving your cheek a quick brush with his thumb. Your skin was on fire, that cheek was never getting washed again.

Good fucking God, coming undone at the smallest touch, are we?

— Goodnight-! Get home safe..

He was already halfway down the block, damn, he's fast.

You're already getting obsessed, damn, he's good.

[vorchagirl]

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere." for Shepard/Kaidan? 👀👀👀 (Also, hi, Lena! I hope you're doing well, and happy new year, my friend! <3)

Hello my lovely friend! Happy New Year to you too! I was very happy to write this for you - a little bit of Kaidan and Shep sweetness! Enjoy!

“Shepard?”  

Her cabin was in near darkness as Kaidan quietly opened the door and peered in. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom, then he slipped inside and let the door close behind him. The only light came from the dim screen of her terminal which had been left active, but it was enough light for him to see the lumpy shape in the bed, and a bedraggled spill of red hair across the pillow.

Was she finally sleeping?

He padded barefoot across to her bed and set the glass of water down on the bedside table, then gently pressed a hand to her forehead to gauge her temperature. Her pale skin was flushed, and her temperature still sky high. Kaidan pressed his other hand to her cheek, and wondered not for the first time why she was stubbornly staying in her room instead of going to medbay.

She groaned, burrowing her face into the cool touch of his skin, and her eyes opened a crack, enough for him to get a glimpse of green, before she closed them again.

“Hey, boy scout,” she murmured. “I thought you were sick of me and you’d gone to bed.” 

He smiled softly and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” Kaidan helped her sit up, and tucked a second pillow under her. “Have some water, you need to stay hydrated.” 

“Yes, mom.” Despite her weak attempt at sarcasm, Shepard took the glass he offered her with trembling fingers and took a long sip. With a grateful sigh she pressed the cool glass against her forehead, and sank back against the pillows. “I blame you for this.” 

The rest is under a cut ^_^

“Me?” Kaidan chuckled as he took the glass and set it down, then brushed some sweaty strands of hair off her cheeks. “And how exactly am I responsible for you catching a virus?” 

She pulled the blanket up to her chin and peered at him across the top, her green eyes impish and adorable despite the fever. “I was showing off,” she admitted, her voice muffled by the blanket. “When we were in the snow on that last mission, and you told me I should keep my helmet on and stay warm? I laughed at you and said the cold didn’t bother me, but I was just showing off.” 

He saw a flush of embarrassment creep up what he could see of her face before she ducked under the blanket, hiding. 

“Ah,” Kaidan mumured as he eased himself onto the bed beside her and tugged the blanket back down. “So it’s my fault that you’re irresponsible?” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, on both cheeks, and to the tip of her nose. “I’m the bad guy, huh?”

Shepard nodded. “Yes, you’re a bad influence.” She wiggled a hand free from the blanket and touched her lips. “You forgot to kiss me here.” 

Her tone was whiny, almost petulant, and he chuckled and leaned forward, catching her lips with his in a much more intimate kiss. He teased her lips apart with his tongue, one hand cupping her face as he pressed her back into the bed and wriggled under the blanket beside her. 

If she hadn’t been so sick…

Kaidan chased the thought away. Now was definitely not the time to linger on such things, even if she looked ridiculously cute when she was cocooned in bed. He drew back from the kiss slowly and traced his thumb over her lip. “I dunno Commander, sometimes I think you’re the bad influence in this relationship.” 

She shook her head as she curled up beside him, burrowing her flushed face into the curve of his neck and pressing her lips against his skin. “No,” she mumbled argumentatively. “It's definitely you. But you can make it up to me?”

“Mmm?” He wrapped his arms around her and glanced down, she looked so adorable and small against him. Like a harmless little kitten instead of a trained N7. He hugged her closer. “I’ll give you anything you need, Shepard.”

He felt her smile against his neck, those red lips curving against him. “You can start by calling me Gina.”

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Together as One

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer Masterlists] [Red Carpet Diaries]

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC) Book: Red Carpet Diaries (Post-Book 3) Word Count: ~500 Rating: General: no warnings, all the fluffy fluff Prompts: @choiceschallenge-may2023 - love

Synopsis: Thomas and Alex enjoy a quiet movie night in.

This absolutely adorable and gorgeous art is by the one and only ArtbyAinna. 🤍

The glow of the TV cast a cool light over the room. The familiar sounds of one of their favorite films playing on the screen drowned out the faint snores of their faithful black lab, Bogart, sleeping on the floor beside them.

Alex nestled her head in the crook of Thomas’s neck, taking in his scent and the feel of his soft skin against hers. A blissful smile spread across her face as his arms urged her closer.

His fingers drew mindless paths along her arm, lulling her in the safety of his embrace. The warmth of her breaths tickled his neck. He gazed down at his beautiful wife. Her brown hair fanned out beneath her head on his chest. A contented sigh slipped through his lips at the sight. 

There was a time when he enjoyed films in solitude. It was only without the distraction of others that he could fully appreciate the art of the film. He spent countless hours absorbed in the media, learning and studying from those he considered masters. He took pleasure in the critique of what he watched, and rarely did he stop to just sit and let the story draw him in without any assessment of it. But, with her, everything was different. 

He traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips, lifting her chin slightly. Her soulful brown eyes met his, warming his chest. He brushed a kiss on her forehead, marveling at how much his life had changed. Now, he had come to enjoy a balance. He still immersed himself when a film warranted it, but he also took the time to enjoy these quiet moments, where the film took a secondary role and became a backdrop to his own Hollywood love story. 

The once overflowing bowl of jalapeño popcorn began to dip as the movie played on. Alex’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing scene. The comfort of the familiar story lulled her further toward sleep.

Thomas held her in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing as it gradually slowed. The blue light of the screen cast a dreamlike glow on her features as she slept, making her even more beautiful. His fingers glided gingerly through her hair, savoring her soft, silky strands.

Taking care not to wake her, he pulled the blanket further over her. He couldn't have imagined a more perfect night than this. It didn't matter that the movie was her choice and she had fallen asleep. What mattered was this—the time spent together, with her in his arms where no words needed to be spoken to know the depths of the love they shared.

The best love stories weren't the loudest or the ones with the most memorable dialogue. The best stories were the ones that were told in the quiet whispers between two lovers' hearts, dancing in tune until they began to beat together as one—a love that could only be felt deep in one's soul.

If you made it this far, thank you for giving this drabble a chance. I only had a few minutes to write today, so I apologize if there are any errors. I am trying to spend less time analyzing my writing because that's where my self-doubt kicks in and then I edit it until there is nothing left or I don't share it because of my anxiety. So I hope that you enjoyed this quiet look into their lives. If you did, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. It means the world to me to hear what you think.

Thank you again for reading this! You are appreciated!!!

[wildtornado-o]

Marked down a lot of Roman Holiday scenes during my reread, I love this book so much.. (all ones that just made me smile asdhfksd) and I wanted to share them <3 (under a read more)

"Roman squeezed Melanie's hand reassuringly. He needed her and her sister to remain calm"

"She held up her screen to show him a drawing of an evil, grinning face, carved into a pumpkin 'I like his attitude, you can do that?'"

"No one had ever given him a gift before, either. What were you supposed to say when someone did something nice for you? 'Well. Thanks.'"

"She made a finger gun with her free hand and pointed it at him. He laughed. 'You got me!'"

Asking about Neo's school lol "'So, how was school?' He asked. 'Learn anything?'"

"'More specifically, this this for you,' he said. Neo took the box delicately from him. She weighed it in her hands. She shook it. She pressed her ear against it. 'Don't worry, it isn't flowers.' She stuck her tongue out at him. 'Go ahead. Open it.' He sat on a stool by the counter and watched as she untied the string and peeled off the brown paper. Inside was a pink cardboard box. She shot him another glance. He spun his seat around 'It's really not flowers.' She lifted the lid off the box and rummaged around in the pink and white tissue paper before she found what was inside. Her eyes went round like saucers and she hopped up and down. Then she pulled out a parasol."

"She slashed it back and forth in the air, with a rapturous expression on her face. 'i can tell you hate it,' Roman said. Neo sheathed her weapon and leaned on it with her hand, placing the other over her heart. 'Don't get mushy on me,' he said gruffly."

"'These aren't mine, officer. I've never seen them before in my life!' She pulled a hanger off the rack and held it out to him. It was a long white suit jacket with red lining and gold buttons. It was just his style and just his size. She held up another hanger with a black shirt and pants and a gray scarf.- 'You made me a new outfit?' he asked. She nodded."

"'It looks good,' Roman said. Neo pouted. 'Great actually. Really nice work. We look like quite a team. She snapped her fingers, skipped away and returned with his bowler hat. She reached into a pouch and drew out a red feather, which she stuck in the brim. 'Just a regular feather this time, yeah?' he asked. (he def knew that she put a tracker in it again sdhfs) She smiled innocently, then rose on her tiptoes and placed it on his head. He sighed. 'Your talents are being wasted with me. I might just regret leading you down a path of crime.' Her look said Don't flatter yourself. "

The Doom Cannon.

Her throwing away all the one person jobs <3

"He was basically the only thing that mattered to her in the world right now, and she wasn't going to lose him, too"

"Neo blinked back tears and hugged Roman. 'Hey. Don't wrinkle the suit.' But he put a hand on her head and over her shoulder, and that felt more like home than that house and her parents had in a long time."

"Neo put a hand on Roman's arm and shook her head. He's not a criminal; he's my friend. Well, I guess he's both."

"Her father threw up his hands. 'Do you know what she wants to say?' he asked Roman. 'I do, actually.' Roman looked at her fondly. 'I'm surprised you don't.'"

"He's my friend. A real friend."

"'You were a cute kid. What happened to you?' Neo sighed. 'I'm kidding. Come on, you're usually the fun one. Being back here really bothers you, huh?'" He's so good at reading her

"From this angle, she saw that Roman was similarly paralyzed on the couch, a look of concern frozen on his face. Concern for her."

"Neo looked back at him and cracked a smile. He caught a lock of her hair and showed it to her. It was white. 'This is new. It suits you.'"

"-I mean, I'm still not interested in having a sidekick--' she glowered. 'But I couldn't ask for a better partner' Neo leaned over and kissed Roman on the cheek. His face went red. It was fun to mess with him sometimes. She tousled his hair for good measure. He needed a new hat. 'Stooop,' he said, pulling away."

[carsonian]

ignore that silly anon omg! ur rec posts were sooo refreshing, especially bc u weren't necessarily rec'ing obvious authors. i love the way you talk <3 everything u write is so funny, your fic notes are their own delight to read & so many of your fics are lowkey underrated. luv the crack fics and how they still have serious elements. "here i am & here you are" is in my all-time favs and i'm so happy ur on tumblr and in this fandom <3333

Thank you so much ❤️ You're the absolute sweetest and I have no words because you've used all the lovely, heartwrenching ones. BUT! Since you mentioned that "Here I Am & Here You Are" is your favourite, I thought I'd share a coda for the fic that never made it into the fic mostly because I only wrote it two hours back. Also, this one goes out to all the SamBucky fans who were sad that the two didn't get much screen time in the fic!

"We Just Keep Going" on AO3 | 1,829 words | Rated M

"Well, well, well," Bucky propped a hand up against the door. "If it isn't my favourite person with my second least favourite person. A pair, when put together, forming a union so utterly average in my favourites list that it doesn't even warrant the work of accurate ranking."

"Did you run lines for that?" Steve asked.

"You're not very good at math." Tony tilted his head.

"Agh." Bucky wrinkled his nose, "I already hate this sequel. Come on in."

"Sequel?" Steve added as he pushed their suitcases through. Tony trailed behind them, running a hand over the flat tile on the door, a colourful piece that bore the words, "BEARS AHEAD! GRR!" 

"You two. Back together." Bucky shook his head, "can I have it on the record that I don't endorse this?"

"What record?" Tony asked. "What're you even on about? I thought you lost an arm, not your head."

"Wow." Bucky pointed a finger at Tony. "You know, this is why people call you "difficult"."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, "how's the new one handling you?"

"I would say like a dream but I don't want to feed your ego, so I'll say like a," Bucky steepled his fingers, metal and human hand making a compelling image when intertwined. Like some harmonic fusion of AI and humanity. Real cyberpunk shit. Bucky exhaled, deciding on, "like a well-constructed reality."

"Okay." Tony drew out the word, "is Chip here?"

"Who?"

"Sam." Steve clarified.

"Oh, haha, Chip 'n Dale, I get it. You think you're funny. Shut the fuck up." Bucky said, no bite to the words. "Yeah, he's around here."

"What a welcome." Tony crossed his arms. "Okay. I'm gonna change, then lay on the couch, drape an arm over my eyes and nap off the jet lag."

"Sure." Bucky shrugged. "Sam's gone to get burgers. Should I wake you then?"

"Steve can wake me then." Tony shot a glare at Bucky. "Since he knows how to do it without totally violating someone."

"It was one time, we were twenty-two, and the ice had all but melted." Bucky protested, quips easy from an argument too often regurgitated, so well-worked that they slipped out easy even after a decade.

Demonstrating that the passage of time didn't necessarily reflect emotional growth, Tony shot Bucky a middle finger. Then, after pointedly waiting for Bucky to point out the bathroom, he took his clothes from the carrier bag and went over to the bathroom. The snick of the lock rang in a final pointed gesture and in the pointed silence afterward, Steve and Bucky met each other's gaze.

"You gonna give your old man a hug or are you too grown up for that kind of thing?" Steve asked.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Bucky made a disgusted sound, "you ever say that to me again, I'm kicking you out, brother or not."

"Alright, tough guy. Come here." Steve urged, bringing Bucky forward and hugging him, taking care to pat him on the back of the flesh shoulder. 

"Y'okay? You all mushy?" Bucky asked into his shoulder, "Tony treating you well?"

"Shuddup." Steve replied good-naturedly, "You run Sam into an early grave yet?"

"He's a slow runner." Bucky seesawed, pulling back to make the gesture.

"Don't I know it." Steve said, "seriously, though. How've you been?"

". . . Better." Bucky admitted, "Not everyday, but, you know. . . a lotta days. It's good. I'm good." 

"That's a solid deal." Steve praised, raising his eyebrows to punctuate the point.

"Ain't it?" Bucky gave a flash of a grin, all young fire and old contentment. 

"I'm glad to hear it, Buck." Steve said, gripping the man's shoulder for a moment, just a brief press, "I really, really am."

"I know, ya big sap." Bucky shrugged the moment off. "How's Tony been? You fucking each other's brains out?"

"Reckon it would take a while to fuck Tony's brains out." Steve pondered, "since he's a genius and all. Lots of brain. . . cells." 

"Okay." Bucky raised his eyes heavenward. "He ain't even that smart. Remember when he thought a carton of milk cost eight bucks?" 

"He's a futurist." Steve said in his defense. "Give it a few years, it probably will."

"Christ alive." Bucky shook his head. "Good thing Sam's only drinking soy and whatnot." 

"Agh, he's converted you?" Steve wrinkled his nose.

"Ye-up." Bucky turned his thumbs inwards, pointing at himself. "Total believer in the soy cream, right here."

"If your mother could see you now, she wouldn't even recognise you." Steve shook his head faux-solemnly.

"Uh, duh. Why'd you think I grew my hair out?" Bucky scritched a finger against his chin. 

"I dunno, to hide your ugly mug?" Steve volleyed. 

"Is that what the scruff on your face is for?" Bucky poked him. "'Cause what's that about?"

"I didn't have time to shave while travelling." Steve said, "I'll shave it off when I shower later. Tony likes me clean-shaven, anyway." 

"Tony likes me clean-shaven, anyway." Bucky mocked in a jeering tone. "Jeez, the two a you are awful."

Steve paused, set his lips in a straight line and said, "'Cause the stubble can be scratchy when I'm rimming him." 

"Eugh. Yuck." Bucky shook his shoulders out. "What the fuck, eugh. Oh god, I'm gonna gag."

"Okay, drama queen." Steve rolled his eyes. He took the pause to push their suitcases up against the wall. Upon turning back, he found Bucky raising an eyebrow at him. 

"That's a homophobic remark." Bucky said.

"You're." Steve ran a hand over his face, "I'm too jet-lagged to listen to you right now."

"Good way to say you can't think of a comeback."

"Don't say comeback, it reminds me of—"

"Blah, blah, blah." Bucky stuck his fingers in his ears, "can't hear you, can't be traumatised by you and Tony." His voice rose higher with the second sentence, and it proved the "losing one sense amplifies the other senses" thing wrong because limiting his hearing was obviously causing an amp up in Bucky's lack of common sense and also, his (already debilitated and clearly debilitating further) sense of humour. 

Thankfully though, it seemed that the universe was immune from the senses thing because it was with an apt sense for timing that the doorbell chose that moment to ring out.

Steve let Bucky continue his immature performance, going up to open the door in the charmless host's stead. 

"Hey!" Sam greeted, takeout bags in both hands, "you're here!"

"Hey Sam," Steve returned, taking the takeout bags from him and moving them to the dining table, "good to see you, man. How've you been?" 

"Great, great." Sam said, "How're you? Travel safe?"

"Yeah, perfectly." Steve said, "Tony's just getting changed. You came back quick, eh?"

"Got lucky with the line." Sam said, "how's—man. What are you doing?"

Bucky took his fingers out of his ears and gave Sam a sheepish smile, "well, well, well." He said faux-menacingly, "if it isn't my least favourite person."

"Don't say that about Steve." Sam sidestepped, "and why're you acting like a child?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam entered the kitchen and the sound of running water followed. 

"FYI, this is why you're Dale in Tony's "Chip 'n Dale" analogy." Steve said. 

"Look at you, bein' such a supportive boyfriend." Bucky said. "Boy oh boy, I best be careful or I'll be out of the running for boyfriend of the year."

The lock of the bathroom door clicked and Tony came out in a grey sweatshirt and trousers. Steve decided to save the fact that they were both Steve's clothing items for later, when Tony was sleepy enough to only notice the reprimand and not how hot Steve got at the sight of it. Tony ran a hand through his hair as he asked, "I heard the door. Sam's here?"

"Kitchen." Steve jutted a thumb out, and Tony headed over to say hi. 

As the two began what sounded like an incredibly mature exchange of greetings, Steve and Bucky shared a short look. 

"We are not the immature ones in our relationship." Bucky insisted, "we are not the "Dale" of the relationship."

"I think they're brothers, anyway." Steve gave an involuntary rictus, "Tony's always multi-tasking when we watch films. It's a problem. I'm working on it."

"Yeah, okay." Bucky sighed. "Hey, Stevie, off the record?"

"The record that doesn't exist?" Steve asked, "that record?"

"The very same." Bucky cleared his throat. "I'm happy you're back together, you know? Real happy. You average each other out."

"In your favourites ranking or in general?" Steve asked. 

"Both, genius." Bucky said. "That's why you two work so well together." 

"Thanks, Bucky." Steve said. "You too, you know?"

"I know." Bucky said, giving him a genuine smile. That, more than anything, made Steve feel properly settled. He was out of business in taking other people's opinions on him and Tony getting back together, but Bucky was definitely the closest to being a person he could trust to know enough to be accurate and honest enough to be truthful. So—the fact that he approved, well. It just mattered.

Sam and Tony walked out of the kitchen, still chatting, with table mats in Sam's hands for the food.

"Hey, Tones." Bucky walked forward, "hey, buddy, come here." 

Tony made an "oof" sort of sound as Bucky came up and hugged him, matter-of-fact about it. The look Tony sent over to Steve over the shoulder was bamboozled. Befuddled. Somewhat begrudged. A tad bemused.

"Hey." Tony said, "you okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky patted him twice on the back and then stepped back. He pointed at Tony with the metal hand and at Steve with the other, "you two break up again, I'm suing you for psychiatric damage."

Tony's finger met Bucky's in a perversion of the E.T. greeting, pushing him back as he said, "Buckaroo, you couldn't afford me."

"Can we continue this over food?" Sam called out, "'cause I didn't wait twenty minutes for cold fast food."

"Sure thing, babe." Bucky grabbed Sam by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in for a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, "there, there. Didn't mean to make you feel left out." 

"I wasn't even—" Sam tried to shrug out the hug for a futile moment before quickly conceding to it, "whatever, okay."

"I don't want to break up," Tony sidled over to Steve, "but I do want to keep up with the psychiatric damage."

"Agree." Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's waist. 

"Should we fuck on his bed?" Tony suggested.

"Sam would suffer too, then, and he doesn't deserve it." Steve said, adding with a thoughtful tone, "let's do it on his old bike."

"We do average out." Tony said, and then, at Steve's startled surprise, "see, I can multi-task."

[angelkissiies]

sweets

archangel gabriel x reader

CW/TW : restlessness, talk of porn, sensuality, fluff, romance, literal soul bonding moment, upset brothers, cheeky gabriel, slight nsfw (like barely).

word count : 2021

a/n : this is completely based off of a tag i started using about a year ago “if gabriel was sucking on a lollipop and then transferred it into my mouth I wouldn’t be depressed anymore lol” so enjoy!

The library was incredibly dull, more than usual today it seemed. None of the books drew your attention, you tried to study the lore in your spare time- seeing as you weren’t as seasoned as Sam and Dean, but today it was just incredibly hard to find the drive. The spines were cracked and breaking down, pages filled with hard to read notes that the previous men of letters had left for future generations. The restlessness that had pulled you out of bed persisted, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself.

It was 3:25am, the bunker was dead silent other than the slight hum of electrical energy circulating through the decades old machinery in the control room. You sat silently at the research tables, fingers grazing over the spines of the books you’d chosen from the shelf earlier. You could only wonder how many hands had touched this same book, how many times it had been used to save lives- but here you were, dreading even looking at it.

With a huff you stood up and made your way through the winding hallway that connected to the kitchen, you felt around on the wall for a second before finding the light switch and flicking it on. It took a few tries but the fluorescent light began to shutter on with an obnoxious hum. It flickered slightly but that was normal, this places electricity was finicky.

You scanned the room, eyeing the open cabinet space for anything that you deemed appetizing. There were the usual pantry staples like peanut butter, crackers, canned vegetables, stuff you really didn’t have a taste for. That was, until you spotted a bag of candy tucked behind the canned goods. It was most definitely Dean’s, seeing as he’s the only one who’d hide something so badly that you barely had to look for it. You pulled the bag out, inspecting the contents.

The bag was filled to the brim with lollipops, an unlikely candy choice you’d ever expect from Dean- but you weren’t complaining. The flavors ranged from cherry to some even as wild as chocolate cake. Nothing like you’d ever really heard of before.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You spoke aloud, pulling a blue raspberry one from the bag. It was your favorite flavor, a timeless classic- in your opinion. You crumpled up the wrapper in your hand before attempting to throw it into the trash bin from across the room, as you expected, you failed miserably and it landed in the floor. You decided to grab a couple more from the bag for safe keeping before heading back into the library.

The room didn’t seem so overwhelming now, though you still didn’t plan on doing any research. That could wait till tomorrow. Instead, you pulled Sam’s laptop off of the charger and settled into the armchair in the corner of the room. As you opened it up, the first pop up was definitely not what you expected.

“Busty blondes, huh?” You snickered to yourself, closing that tab out before opening a new one. You were so wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t hear the flutter of wings, signaling an angels entrance into the bunker.

“Well, well, well. (Y/n).. I didn’t take you for the late night porn escapade type.”

Your heart pretty much leaped out of your chest as you slammed the laptop closed, head almost doing a complete 360 as you looked for the owner of the voice. It wasn’t unusual to get a random message from Gabriel in a disembodied voice, it was his favorite way of fucking with you. This time, it was definitely not a disembodied voice. He very much was there.

Gabriel stood just behind you, leaning over the half bookshelf where he was able to see the computer screen before you closed it. “Did i startle you? My bad.” He smirked, moving around the bookshelf to lean against the research table.

You huffed lightly, embarrassed enough for the next century. “No, no. I wasn’t watching porn. It’s just Sam’s laptop- and also yes. Of course you startled me, you tend to just appear.” You stated, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back into the chair.

“Oh yeah? So Sam was looking up 70’s pornos? I took him for more of a blondes kinda guy.” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as well. He looked.. different tonight. He was wearing a black button up with matching black dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and the top buttons of his shirt had been neglected- this was far from how he usually dressed. He must have had something or maybe someone important to go attend to today.

It took a second to process what he said, but when he did it couldn’t have been more crystal clear. He’d been watching you, that’s the only way he could’ve known- unless the blondes thing was really just a good guess. “How long have you been here, Gabriel?” You questioned, squinting at him in impartial curiosity. You never really minded when he just popped in, he was a fun guy to be around, not to mention he was very nice to look at. Despite how much you liked to look at him- he was an archangel, so off limits, the brothers made that very clear.

The man shrugged lightly, “Maybe ten minutes, just in time to see the fun stuff though.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair before pulling a chair out from the table and turning it so it faced you. “I do have a question though.”

You furrowed your brows, relaxing a little more now that he was eye level with you. It made you nervous when people stood when having a conversation sitting down. “Okay, shoot. I might have an answer for you.” Something about this made you feel like you’d regret it later, his curiosity was never the innocent kind.

“Why 70’s pornos? I mean, we both know there are much better modern ones. The oldies are cheesy.” He asked, his hands resting under his chin now, he was so causal- he always made you feel comfortable around him.

The answer wasn’t so easy to explain though, between the niche of 70’s porn and the embarrassment you felt from being caught doing such on Sam’s laptop of all things. You swished the lollipop around in your mouth, attempting to find a suitable answer. One that was honest, but not too vulnerable.

“Well, I mean, it’s cringey but good. The films are cheesy but I don’t mind that. Modern stuff is just much too.. aggressive.” You explained, your answer was genuine but you weren’t quite sure why you were as honest as you’d been. “Anyways, what are you doing here?”

Gabriel smiled leaning back in the wooden chair, hands resting on his knees. His eyes wandered down to your lips before turning back to your eyes, “I wanted to see you, talk to you actually.”

The way he looked at you made your heart flutter but you swallowed those feelings down, focusing on his words instead. “Is everything okay?” You pulled the now empty stick from your mouth, throwing it in the bin beside the chair as you opened a new one. This one was chocolate flavored and as you popped it into your mouth, the flavor lived up to its name.

He gave a quick nod, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Everything’s fine, I swear.” His eyes were simmering with something deeper, an intensity you’d never seen from him before. He reached out to caress your face, touching you with the utmost tenderness before moving to pull the lollipop from your lips.

Without missing a beat, he popped the lollipop into his mouth, letting out a sinful groan. His lips upturned into a wicked smile, “Chocolate with a hint of something much sweeter.” He commented, twirling the lollipop around on his tongue.

You felt your face begin to heat up, heart skipping beats. Was this real? You had to be dreaming, there was no way this was actually happening. “Gabriel-,” you began, only to be cut off.

“Tell me your don’t like it and I’ll stop.” He swore, hand brushing against your thigh. His skin was so warm compared to your own from being stuck in the cool bunker for so long. The contrast was nice, if you were being honest with yourself, it was much more than nice. “I won’t do anything unless you say it’s okay.”

Something over took you, as you leaned toward to come closer to the man- your hand moved up to swipe the lollipop out of his mouth. You threw it hazardously onto the floor, pulling him in to crash your lips against his. It was sweet, he tasted like chocolate and mint. As if he’d been preparing for this.

Gabriel’s hands hooked under your thighs, pulling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He let his hands wander, memorizing the curvature of your body. He couldn’t help hold onto you like this moment was fleeting, but by the way you pressed your body against his- he knew you were here to stay. He broke this kiss, gripping onto your hips to keep you still. “We don’t have to go any further than this, sweetheart. You know that.”

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, not wanting him to slip through your fingers. “I want you to kiss me again, please.” You murmured, hands moving to busy themselves with his buttons. “I just want to kiss you so badly.”

A cheeky smirk played on his lips, he moved a hand up to rest on the nape of your neck. He gently began to guide you down to his lips, before stopping abruptly. There was barely a centimeter between the two of you, warm breath puffing across each other’s faces. He leaned in a bit to brush his lips against yours but nothing more than that, which earned an annoyed groan from you.

“Take a breath, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He instructed, eyes taking in all he could. From this close, he could see the sunbursts in your eyes and the seasonal freckles that were so light you could barely see them. He loved it, he loved knowing that there were still things about you he’d get to learn and love everyday.

You followed his directions, taking in a deep breath and releasing it in one fluid motion. Your face was tinted pink, still flustered from this whole thing. You were sitting on the lamp of one of the most powerful creatures in the world, the most baffling thing- no man ever looked at you before, but Gabriel didn’t just look at you- he felt you. In the moment, it was as if you two had become one. He felt your emotions reverberate from inside of him, echoing in his chest.

Gabriel closed the gap, pressing his lips against your own. This time was different, there was no urgency. No need to fast track it all. It was slow and sentimental. He needed you. All he felt was you. His hands caressed the skin just under the fabric of your shirt, he didn’t dare to go further as it was unnecessary. He just wanted to touch you. To feel your skin against his own. He ached for you.

The light suddenly flickered on, pretty much blinding the both of you- as the room was previously at the mercy of a table lamp you had turned on earlier.

“What the fuck, is that-?”

“Gabriel?”

The voices of the two very commonly known as Sam and Dean made you freeze in place. It was Dean’s rule not to date angels, but yet here you were caught, sitting on the lap of none other than the archangel Gabriel.

“Oh! Hey guys, whatcha doing?” You smiled, pretending they couldn’t see the scene that appeared in front of their very eyes.

They both scowled at you, crossing their arms as they stood in the doorway in their sleep robes. “You have explaining to do, right now-,” Dean demanded, only to be cut off by Gabriel.

The man chuckled, not wanting to let go of you. “Yeah, well, there will be explaining done. Just not right now. See you guys later!” Before the brothers could even protest, the two of you were gone.

“The archangel, really? It could’ve been anyone else.”

“She has very poor taste in men.”

[lancermylove]

Unphotogenic (Oneshot)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Mammon x gn!Reader, established relationship.

Warning: N.SFW (nothing too bad)

Commissioned by: @lann-de-lei

Prompt: Hi! May I ask for a one-shot - Obey Me! Mammon x gn!reader (or fem!reader if it's more convenient for you) Scenario: I imagine MC who doesn't like their photos and doesn't like to be on photos because they are unphotogenic and they think their photos are awful (it's not about their real appearance, just about their photos). At the same time they have a lot of Mammon photos, collect his magazines, keep his photo in their wallet or in pendant. When Mammon wants to have their photos too, they are hesitated and explain him why they dislike the idea. So Mammon decides to organize a private photo shoot for them, with a professional photographer, so they could see how beautiful their photos can be. They start with photos of MC, but then want photos of them together, and in the end - couples boudoir photos. I hope it makes sense ^_^" Thank you!  

A/N: Thank you for your commission! 💕 Also, thank you so much for reblogging the previous oneshots multiple times - I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Your ideas are always so unique, and I really enjoy writing them. :3 

Word Count: 3,299

———————————————

You reached for your smartphone with trembling hands as two voices, one of the devil, and the other of the angel argued in your mind. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ said the gentle voice. 

‘No, it won’t. You know how it always turns out, so why bother,’ rebutted the dry, taunting voice. 

‘It never hurts to give it a try.’

‘Except, the end result is always a failure.’ 

Ignoring the bickering voices, you shut your eyes and inhaled sharply in an attempt to shake off your nervousness. You opened your eyes, smiled brightly into the full-length mirror in front of you, and positioned your phone’s camera to capture your reflection. Before checking the selfie, you glanced at the mirror and smiled, “Lookin’ good, but...” 

The corners of your lips dropped as you slowly brought your phone’s screen into view. Disaster. That one word summed up your appearance in the selfie; your reflection looked nothing like the image on your phone. The devilish voice was right - the end result is always a failure and will always be a failure. 

“Photogenic people are lucky,” you sighed. “Why can’t I be one of them?” 

A stinging sensation irritated your eyes, but you blinked rapidly to hold the saline liquid from spilling out and ruining your eye makeup. Thud. Thud. The sound of a fist pounding on your door made you jump and nearly squeal. 

“Why didja lock your room? What’s takin’ ya so long? We’re goin’ to be late!” 

Mammon couldn’t have come at a better time; his voice was enough to pull you out of your spiraling state and back into reality. Scowling at your loathsome selfie, you deleted it and grabbed your bag, ready to go on your date with your beloved. You drew in a deep breath, put on the biggest smile you could muster, and flung open the door. “So, how do I look?” 

He, first, looked at you from head to toe, then took the liberty of scanning the areas of your body you left exposed - your neck, collarbones, a bit of your chest, and your legs. Had your shorts been any shorter, Mammon would have canceled the date, tossed you over his shoulder, and walked right back into your room. Curling a finger under his chin, you gently tilted his face up to meet your teasing gaze. “Aren’t we getting late? You can stare all you want after dinner.” 

Red crept on his cheeks as he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Why didja lock your room?” 

“Did you forget your brothers live in the same house as us? Would you really want them to walk in while I am changing?” You teased, knowing well what his answer would be. 

“NO! Don’t ya dare keep your door unlocked while you’re changin’. That’s only for my eyes...and I ain’t lettin’ anyone see anythin’ they’re not supposed to, especially not my lil bros.” 

“So, you’re okay with Lucifer seeing me?”

“NO! If he does, I’m goin’ to hang him from the ceilin’.” 

“Um...my dearest, you know Lucifer heard that, right?” 

Mammon squeaked and looked around frantically for his older brother, ready to apologize and give a long explanation about how he was joking. Click. Click. The sound of your phone’s camera, followed by your laughter, caught him off guard even more. “Oi! Not cool. Why’re ya takin’ my pics? Delete ‘em!” 

“Nah, you look good in them. Mammon...you always look good in all photos...,” the zealous in your voice drowned out, and your boyfriend was quick to pick up on it. 

“(Y/n)?”

Hearing the concern in his voice mixed with a pang of pain, you shook your head and forced a giggle, “It’s nothing~. You’re a model, after all, so it makes sense!”

----

It was a long night for you and Mammon, but he had no trouble waking up before you. Maybe it was the pleasant dinner, the laughs you share with him while walking back home, or the lovely time he had holding you in his embrace as the two of you shared sloppy kisses - whatever the reason, he felt happy and energized. 

The Avatar of Greed let his eyes wander down your face and blanket-covered torso until they landed on your exposed lower half. Blushing deeply, he reached down and pulled the blanket over your legs, careful not to wake you up. No matter how many times he saw you without clothes, Mammon felt like he could never get used to it. As his gaze returned to your face, a blinding sparkle near your chest caught his attention. For a moment, he stared at the metal chain around your neck, contemplating whether he should take this chance or not. 

‘It’s now or never, but...if (y/n) catches me, they ain’t goin’ to be happy. Dammit, I wanna know what they’re hidin’ from me.’ 

Deciding to test his luck, your boyfriend reached for the heart pendant connected to the thin gold chain around your neck. What were you hiding in the pendant that you kept refusing to show him every time he asked? His heart raced out of control as he nimbly parted the pendant, mentally reminding himself to not to wake you up. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but what Mammon saw inside gave him warm fuzzy feelings. One side of the pendant held a photo of him, smiling ear to ear, while the other side contained textured white paper with the words “I love you” on it. The demon couldn’t understand why you were hiding something so sweet from him, but not wanting to face your wrath first thing in the morning, he closed the heart and gently set it back onto the bedsheet. With a yawn, he sat up on the mattress and stretched his arms as wide as he could.

‘What the Devildom...?’ Mammon froze midway through his yawn and stared at the wall across the bed with his mouth open and arms still in the air. That entire wall, from top to bottom, was covered with photos, magazine cut-outs, and posters of him. Slowly standing up from the bed, not caring to get dressed, the stunned demon approached the decorated wall. Had this wall always been covered with his pictures? Mammon was aware he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, but he definitely wasn’t that absent-minded. 

‘A photo of (y/n) in my wallet, and a wall in my room with their pics. Why didn’t I think of that?’ The thought of waking up in the morning and seeing your face, rather faces, on his bedroom wall sounded like the world’s best idea. Well, the second best idea, the first best idea being seeing your actual face first thing in the morning. His excitement was growing by the second until a sudden realization slapped him across his cheek and quickly deflated his mood. ‘I don’t have any pics of (y/n). Y’know...I don’t even have a single photo of ‘em...’ 

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of the bedsheets rustle behind him. He walked back to the bed and greeted you with a bashful smile, “Mornin’! By the way, ya let your guard down.” 

He pointed to your pendant and watched you follow his finger to the metal heart. Your struggle to figure out what he was talking about as your mind was not fully awake yet amused him. Your eyes shot open, and you clutched onto the necklace, frowning, “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“Too late,” he shrugged. “Not fair that ya get to keep a picture of me. I want a photo of ya for my wallet, so every time I open it, I get to see your pretty face.”

His statement came off as a casual part of the conversation, but in reality, Mammon wanted to find out why he didn’t have even one photo of you. He observed every movement you made and every expression that flashed across your face. He knew it! You didn’t share your photos with him on purpose, but why? You weren’t going to tell him, were you? At least, not until he asked. “(Y/n), I ain’t got one picture of ya. No photo, no selfie, no nothin’. Why?”

“I...don’t look good in photos. No matter how many times I try to take selfies, I never look good in them!”

Mammon was not prepared to hear that reply and was confused. Had you been struggling with insecurities about your appearance? He never got that feeling, so what were you going on about? “Whatcha talkin’ about? You’re beaut-”

“No, Mammon. Please, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I don’t look good, so I don’t look good. I never look like myself in photos!” You hung your head low, not wanting him to see your inner struggles on your face, and let out a mocking chuckle, “You know...whenever I see photos of you, I feel jealous. The camera loves you so much.” 

It hurt him to see you dragging yourself down. At times like these, he would throw his arms around you and comfort you, throwing in a joke here and there, but this time around, he didn’t know how to react. Mammon knew his words wouldn’t change your mind, especially since you had made up your mind about your appearance in photos, but he was desperate to prove you wrong. No matter what it took, he was determined to show you that your beauty was radiant enough to shine in real as well as in photos. 

----

"What is takin’ ‘em so long?” Mammon mumbled while rhythmically tapping his foot on the hardwood floors. He couldn’t wait for you to see your surprise, but at the same time, he wondered if you would be okay in the studio. If only he could have brought the photographer to the House of Lamentation, but with his brothers around, an incident-less photo shoot would have been impossible. First, they would have inserted themselves into every photo, then a fight would have broken out, and the finale would have been Lucifer hanging all them from the ceiling and lecturing their ears out while you attempted to calm him down. Mammon shuddered at the thought of hearing the Avatar of Pride lecture him for hours. 

You made your made into the photo studio to find your boyfriend zoning out in the middle of the entrance hall. “Mammon, you never told me you got signed for another photoshoot.” 

“I didn’t,” he replied and took hold of your hand, “but don’t worry ‘bout the details. We need to get goin’.”

Mammon led you through the long corridor, past various color-coded doors, and stopped at a red one. Opening the door, he revealed a luxurious bedroom decorated with fine furniture suited for royalty. 

“Beautiful set, ain’t it? Remember that chair?” He pointed to a crimson high-back chair with gold trim. “It’s the same one I sat on for my cover photoshoot with Carie Mlair.” 

“Y-Yeah, I remember...but, Mammon-”

“(Y/n), that there's Luna,” he purposely interrupted you and smile at a stylish older demon. “She'll be takin’ your photos today.” 

The second you heard “your photos,” you spun on your heels to run out of the room, but your boyfriend was prepared for your reaction and blocked your path. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Mammon forced the corners of his lips up, “Look, I know you ain’t comfortable in front of the camera, but can ya give it a try?” 

You frantically shook your head, earning a sigh from him, “Hearin’ ya talkin’ bad ‘bout yourself hurt me. I want ya to see how smokin’ ya can look in photos. You might not have confidence in yourself, but I know you’ll look great. So, can ya give it a try? For me? Ya ain’t gonna let my surprise go to waste, right? I swear if ya walk away, I’ll sulk all week long.” 

“F-Fine.” 

Mammon didn’t mean to blackmail you, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get you to give in. He watched you drag your feet to the chair and awkwardly position your body to face the professional lens. “(Y/n), take a deep breath ‘n relax. Just be you and pretend you’re posin’ in front of your bedroom mirror.” 

For the next few minutes, you attempted to follow the tips Mammon threw your way, but you only grew more frustrated. Seeing you at the verge of your breaking point, your boyfriend took off his jacket, tossed it to the side, and casually made his way to you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and brought you closer to his broad chest. 

“Have I ever told ya that ya look adorable when you’re nervous?” He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead and chuckled. You slightly lifted your head to playfully glare at him. Click. The sound of the camera shutter still made you nervous but Mammon’s warmth and smile helped you calm down. 

Out of the blue, the demon spun you around and dipped you, laughing at your startled expression. Click. Your pout and light punch on his chest made him laugh harder. Click. He pinched your cheek, and in return, you pinched both of his. Click. Little by little, Mammon felt your tense muscles easing and was relieved to see him plan working. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you closed your eyes, taking a second to enjoy the serene moment. Click. 

Mammon gradually opened his eyes and saw you staring at him with parted lips. Though he knew that look all too well, Mammon wanted you to make the first move, so without wasting any time, you lifted your head and met his soft, warm lips. Click. Even after hearing the shutter sound, you didn’t pull away, much to Mammon’s joy. One kiss turned into two, two turned into three, and this went on until both of you were gasping for air. 

The Avatar of Greed took a step back and removed his shirt, giving you enough time to ogle his muscles, but soon, your lips were once again connected, this time into a sloppy kiss. Click. Your tongues tangoed, but to your dismay, he pulled away and turned your body to face the camera. Wrapping his left arm around your bare waist, he buries his face in your neck. Click. 

For a second, you had forgotten about the camera, but now that you were face to face with it, you started tensing up again. Mammon sensed your nervousness and quickly ran his right hand up the front of your right thigh and to the zipper of your formal shorts. He tugged on the zip, revealing your black lace underwear to the camera. Click. Before you could protest about the photographer watching, Mammon slid his right hand inside your undergarment and stroked your nether region. Click. You stared half-lidded at the camera, and even though you saw Luna, hunched behind the tripod, you couldn’t stop your desires from taking control of your mind. 

Your beloved demon withdrew his right hand and spun you to face him once more. He tugged on your shorts, letting them pool around your ankle, and swiftly disposed of your collared crop top, leaving you exposed in your black, lace undergarment(s). Click. Mammon kneeled on the floor, eagerly pulled you down with him, and asked you to lie down. Complying with his request, you pressed your back on the hardwood and shivered at the contrast of the cool floor against your heated skin. 

“(Y/n),” Mammon whispered on your lips, “Look at the camera 'n show it how much ya want me. Show it how I make ya feel.” 

With those words, he trailed kisses down your neck and chest until he reached your stomach. Click. Click. He parted your legs and buried his face in between. Mammon’s request to stare at the camera seemed difficult, but as soon as you felt his warm breath between your legs, you arched your back and met the gaze of the metal cyclops’ eye. Click. 

You were shocked at how naturally you revealed your bedroom expressions to a stranger and your worst enemy, but Mammon didn’t give you time to get over the shock. He grabbed your waist with both hands, sat you up, and with an aroused voice, he asked to you remove his pants. It took Mammon everything inside him to control his urge to take you right then and there in front of Luna. Click. 

Disposing of his pants, Mammon turned to the side, giving the camera his side view, and pulled you onto his lap. Click. He held onto your hips as you threw your head back to give him space to kiss your collarbones. Click. Your dear demon gratefully accepted your invitation and showered your skin with butterfly kisses. Click. As your gaze met once again, your breaths grew more and more ragged - you had reached your limit as had Mammon.

Luna cleared her throat loud enough for the two of you to hear, hoping to bring you and Mammon back to your senses. “Shall we call it a day? Mammon, do not even think about running my beautiful set. Now, run along to the bathroom and do what you two must.”

----

The Avatar of Greed took a step back to get a better look at his masterpiece, a collage of you on the wall closest to this bed. His eyes settled on the photo in the center of the collage, the biggest and brightest picture of them all - you smiling brilliantly for the camera with confidence. “Told ya ya would look great in photos. What were ya afraid of in the first place? Why fear when Mammon the Great is here~?” 

Chuckling to himself, he grazed the fingertips of his right hand across his favorite photo of you. “You’re the light of my life, and I ain’t goin’ to let my light grow dull...not in real, not in front of the camera...not ever.”

Mammon turned his attention to the heavy album in his left hand and started looking around his room. Now, where was he supposed to hide this? An album of forbidden photos meant for his eyes only. Then again, the two of you were dating, so why did he need to hide this? Why would anyone care if he had a spicy photoshoot with his lover? 

“Ya, I ain’t gonna hide this. I got no need to hide this...not from (y/n), not from Devildom, not from my brothers.” Mammon froze in place for a second before he repeated his words, “My brothers...what could go wrong with my brothers around...” 

“MAMMOOOOON. How could you be so irresponsible as to leave such an album in plain sight? Do you see the effect it has on your younger brothers?”

Mammon slowly moved his eyes behind Lucifer to find Satan paralyzed with no expression on his face, almost like his mind was short-circuiting. Next to the fifth brother was Asmo with a crimson face, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, “Is it just me, or did it get hot in here? I mean...very, very hot...” 

A short distance away, Levi lay on the floor, passed out in a pool of his own nosebleed. Next to the third brother, Belphie sat with his knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth. Between Levi and Belphie was a somewhat traumatized Beel who kept looking at his twin and passed out older brother, worried about their condition. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mammon vigorously shook his head and mumbled a chain of “no no no”. On the other hand, it would be better to keep the album locked up, for his sake as well as the sake of his younger brothers. 

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

[den-shosha]

Nightly worries

Izana x M!reader

Izana worries you plan on leaving or cheating after hearing you talk about someone else. In the middle of the night, you reassure him.

Tw. None, just pure comfort and cuddles.

I needed some cute fluff. It's the only excuse I have.

Izana couldn't sleep. It didn't matter if he could feel your warm skin against his back or hear your soft snoring. What used to be a comfort was now making him anxious.

You talked about someone else to your business partner. Izana heard how excited you were to meet them soon. And it wasn't for business.

Izana didn't need more to feel left out, threatened. Were you planning on cheating? Leaving? Wasn't he enough for you? Those questions felt like knives in his mind and heart. You've been together for almost eight years now. Was it how it would end?

Turning slowly, so as to not wake you up, Izana traced your sleeping face with a finger. It was enough to wake you up.

- "Babe... What y'ding?" You asked with a sleepy voice, unable to articulate properly. "Hmm... Can't sleep?"

- "Are you planning to cheat on me?" He asked, not giving you a chance to wake up.

- "Where are you getting that, m'King? No, I am not planning such a thing." You sighed as you sat, passing a hand on your sleeping face. "Damn, it 3 in the morning? Babe, did you at least sleep?" You asked as you looked at the alarm clock.

- "Then, who's Mike, and why are you so excited to see them? Why didn't you say anything?" Izana asks, sitting as well, his voice shaking a little.

- "Mike... Mike... Give me a second my sweet King." You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide a yawn. You made Izana jump when you suddenly clap your hands together. "Babe, where's my phone? Ok, I remember now. It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but I guess I'll show you now." You grab your phone once Izana found it. The light blinds you for a second and Izana admires you. "Here babe, it's the whole thing."

The blond took back the phone, staring at the screen. The name on the top is Mike, but the conversation leaves him speechless. That person isn't a lover to be but another designer. Like you.

As you lay back next to him, nuzzling your face against his hip, Izana admired the work. Those were unique pieces you had asked, for him. There were even some high heels boots, like the ones he uses to have when he was younger. There were so many! Even jewels. Even one gorgeous ring.

A wedding ring.

A shiver ran down his spine as you kissed his hip.

- "Do you like it? Sorry, I know you don't like secrets. I should have told you."

- "It's perfect. Please, don't be sorry. I am the one who overreacted." He can feel a tear roll on his cheek and your arms gently circling his waist. "I should know by now that you won't betray or leave me."

- "Babe, you got abandonment issues. And you got backstabbed a lot." Again, your lips found his skin, leaving a trail of kisses. Izana's hand naturally found your head and played with your hair. "I am not mad or vexed, I understand. It takes time to heal babe and we're in it together. I'm the one in the wrong here. I knew and still did it, causing you to worry and hurt for nothing. It won't happen again, I promise." You kiss him one more time before gently grabbing him by the arm. "C'mere, I'll cuddle you until you fall asleep."

- "You're the one who'll sleep first!" He smiles before laying down on your chest, your arms quickly closing around him.

- "Eh! I can at least try." You kissed his forehead while one of your hands drew soft circles on his back. "I'm happy you love it. Hmm... If my memories are good, do I have to meet Mike in three days? We could go together. You'll see him and if you don't like Mike, you'll do whatever you want to him. Let's him just finish what I asked for 'k?"

- "Ok." Izana closed his eyes, listening to your heart. "So, are we talking about that special ring I saw?"

- "No. You'll have it in time. Soon, but not now." You hug him closer. "There is a special date coming, you'll get it then." You sigh, falling asleep already.

In a few weeks, you'll celebrate your 8 years together. Smiling, Izana fell asleep too, no more worries on his heart.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag List:;

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor@all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme​​    @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27  @haushinka27    @caylaxwrites   @extraneousred​   @agentmstark​   @crazywitchkitty​   @its-an-idea-not-a-blog    @partypoison00    @fictional-hooman

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 11

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 1,384

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Sex

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe 2022. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The clock on the nightstand was reading eleven in the morning in red numbers, but leaning against the headboard you stared up at Namjoon, confused. It was eleven during the middle of the week, and he was still under the blankets sleeping.

Not that you minded, in fact the sight of seeing him at home had become such a rarity that his boss would have to pull him out of your grip.

Taking advantage of the peace, you reached up to gently run your fingers against his cheek, along his temple before lightly tracing the shape of his bottom lip. You couldn’t even recall the last time the two of you spent a lazy morning together.

Outside the window that had been left open the music of songbirds filtered through the screen, drawing your attention away from him. Through the curtains, petals of yellow daises were seen gently swaying in the morning breeze. Namjoon had planted them last year alongside the house, having spent hours digging up the ground and meticulously planting each batch. His efforts had paid off greatly when the mini suns bloomed earlier in the month, offering a sense of something magical surrounding the house.

A nip at your finger drew your attention away from the window and back to Namjoon. His eyes were still closed but his lips were curling up into a wolfish grin.

“You bit me.”

Namjoon hummed, his arm sliding over your side until his palm was flat against your back. Only then did he open his eyes. “Aren’t you the one always asking me to bite you?”

His voice was thick and when he raised an eyebrow, it took all your willpower to not melt in his arms right then and there.

As much as you wanted nothing more than stay in this moment and forget about everything else, you couldn’t help but ask, “why are you home?”

  If it was somehow possible, even the birds stopped singing. Like they too knew the significance of his answer.

Taking a deep breath, Namjoon leaned over and pressed a kiss on the mark. “I called out.”

“Why?”

He kissed it again, and then a second time. The lack of words on his part wasn’t out of character for Namjoon but, after all this time, after last night especially, it wasn’t as easy to guess what was running through his mind anymore. There had been a time where you thought you knew him well enough to do so.

“I’ve missed you too,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing and nibbling his way up and along your jaw until he suddenly stopped. Leaning backwards, his brown eyes were soft and clear as his ears lowered themselves. This sudden affection wasn’t brought on by his heat.

Despite the simplicity of his words, tears stung as they slipped out. The first one wasn’t even halfway down your cheek before he went back down, his breath warm against your skin as he sweetly kissed it away. Then the second, the fourth, by the sixth when he kissed your lips, you were certain that he was making up for lost time.

There was a chime echoing down the hall signaling the half hour, the buzzing of bumble bees and singing birds had started up again, creating perhaps the purest of songs as Namjoon slipped his palms underneath the shirt you wore. His body heat warmed you in seconds and only with regret did you stop the kiss to remove it.

A deep growl of appreciation filled the room and the bed creaked as he laid you on your back. Yet even as he settled between your legs, hands roaming along your sides and back, until your body quivered with need, he never strayed from kissing your lips.

He had missed you too.

“Joonie,” you whispered, heart beating rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

Hooking his fingers under the band of your panties, Namjoon slipped those off before removing his own pajama pants, tossing them over the side of the bed. With his attention focusing back on you, he slid his hands up along your thighs before hooking them around his hips. Just like every hybrid, he had his own heat that he went through, but there hadn’t been any intimacy since his last one. And as he left wet kisses own your belly, tingles of anticipation spread throughout your body with each shaky breath you took.

You knew Namjoon though. He was an attentive mate, priding himself on making sure you saw a galaxy of stars before he even considered his own needs and desires. That wasn’t what you wanted right now.

“Joonie,” you whimpered, sliding your fingers through his hair when he teasingly ran his tongue along the curve of your breast. He lifted his head though, allowing you to see the same desire and longing swirling around in his eyes that you knew reflected in your own.

As if he knew what you were about to say though, he shifted his hips, his hardened length rubbing against you to gather up the wetness. Your mouth dried out and you moaned. It had been too long since the last time. There was going to be plenty of time for him to take his sweet time wrecking you, but right now, you just wanted to be as close as possible in the most intimate of ways.

Namjoon groaned as he pushed in, the walls of your pussy clenching around his dick with every glorious inch, only stopping when he was balls deep inside you. Both of you groaned, foreheads pressed against the others and eyes scrunching shut in pleasure before blinking back open, wanting to see the man you loved with not just your entire heart, but your entire being.

“So perfect,” Namjoon softly murmured, leaving sweet kisses along every inch of skin that he could reach.

The temperature in the bedroom grew hotter with every thrust, and as kissed along his shoulder leaving nibbles on his collar bone, his arms tightened around you until suddenly you were no longer on your back. Hurriedly you clung to his shoulders, gasping as you were fully seated on his lap, chests pressed together in the new position.

“My beautiful mate,” Namjoon said, stealing your lips in a kiss before you were able to say anything.

Your moans were stolen as you kissed him back, easily finding a rhythm that worked for both of you. He was able to go deeper this way, leaving you feeling full and satisfying your need to be close to him.

Sliding your fingers through his hair and being mindful of his ears, you couldn’t help but tug on the locks when he hit the right spot. A soft cry escaped your lips and Namjoon’s chest rumbled with his growl, his thrusts going faster as he held you tight.

When it felt like you were going to combust, you leaned your head back to look at Namjoon. Sweat dotted along his skin, his lips swollen, yet as his name spilled from your mouth and he once again swooped in to seal the act with a final kiss, it was as sweet as it was bitter upon the taste of tears mixing together when he finally groaned with his own release.

Had the house been closer to the town you might have been worried about it being opened, but save for some wildlife the two of you were well alone. The dripping of his seed along the inside of your thigh was going on to his own legs and the rumpled blankets soon, but in that moment you didn’t care. Instead, you clung to your mate as his shoulders shook. One minute he was pressing his face against your neck to kiss the mark, and the next he was kissing your lips, never lingering in one place for too long, as if he needed to kiss every single square inch of you.

  He was decorating you in kisses and tears.

Love and anguish, because last night had not left either of you even in the middle of making love. It only rekindled the reality that as much as the love you had for each other burned, it still had the power to leave wounds.

And Namjoon had almost lost you.