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777heavengirl · 2 days ago

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Bless the Telephone ; ##03

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,858

warnings: technically a kiss that is not... desired or consented to? but its quick

a/n: my exams tmr!! i’m shitting bricks lord- also final chapter of bags tmr as well 🤧

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You quietly decided to keep your phone on your night table, the cord was a little over-extended from the opposite wall and you were slightly afraid that if you tripped on it the phone would fall to the floor— but it was easier this way; you decided, when James called the next day.

“Hello?” you groaned into the phone, cutting off the loud ringing as fast as you could

“Were you sleeping?”

“Potter?”

“Who else would be calling your phone?”

“Other people also call me- what time is it?”

“Like eleven thirty, didn’t know you were an early sleeper doll”

“Eleven thirty isn't early idiot-” you groaned as you tried rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Didn’t think I was going to hear from you anymore”

“Why is that? I obviously gotta call my best girl”

“You don’t even know me”

“Yes, I do�� why did you think I wouldn’t call though? I told you I wanted to be friends you silly girl”

“You said you wanted to be friends— But you hung up yesterday,” you held the phone to your ear, the side of your face still pressed against your pillow. “Rather suddenly too”

“Ah, I’m sorry- you know I’m a little funky with phones-” You could almost hear the hesitation in his voice

“D’you mean hopeless?”

“Oh hush-”

“I don’t believe you by the way- but I’ll let it slide” You sighed, stretching your body a bit

A beat of silence stilled over the two of you.

“Thanks…” you hummed in response “What are you up to?” James said, a smile evident on his words

“I was sleeping Potter, do you know what that means?”

“I have a clue yeah- why are you sleeping so early though?”

“Eleven thirty at night is not early, but I’m meeting someone for breakfast tomorrow- I wanted to be well rested”

“Ohhh you’re meeting someone, is it a boyfriend?” you rolled your eyes

“I don’t think he’d describe us that way” He really wouldn’t, not even close

“Do you wish he would?” the anxiety at the pit of your stomach quickening your heartbeat.

“Goodnight James” you mumbled, eyes wide open now, you could feel the blood pumping as you lifted to rest on your elbows.

He didn’t hesitate, seemingly understanding “Goodnight love”

You hung up.

You guessed you shouldn’t be surprised. You had sat at the small coffee place for an hour and a half yet— not a trace of him.

You threaded your arms into your coat, grabbing your purse quickly. You felt as if you were running away from embarrassment itself as you crossed the street hurriedly. You caught the sight of the bright red of a pay phone from the corner of your eye, not far from where you stood.

You felt stupid, you decided, as you pulled out the little phone book that you kept in your bag. You had written James’s number in it that morning, you didn’t know why. Stupid stupid stupid.

You sorted through the contents of your purse looking for change to put into the damn box, marking the number soon after.

The phone rang. Rang. Rang.

Someone picked up

“Oi-“ didn’t sound like James

“Is James Potter there?”

“Ohhh is this who I think it is?” the voice snickered

“Who’s this?”

“Sirius- James’s more handsome friend,” Sirius said matter-o-factly, you rolled your eyes

“Is James there? You know what-” You looked around, suddenly too aware that he could be just around the corner.

You didn’t wanna see him.

“nevermind- I’ll call back later”

“Hello?” a familiar voice broke through

“James?” you bit your lip, relief flooding through you. you didn’t know why you felt this way

“Yeah, doll- what’s up? I thought you were supposed to be out with your not boyfriend”

“Yeah… I guess he had better things to do this morning” he made a noise of indignation, you felt so stupid “probably with another not girlfriend if we’re honest”

“oh love I’m sorry-“

“no no, it’s fine really… I really… need to get it through my skull that he’s not particularly interested… it’s not the first time- sorry I called”

“Why would you be sorry?”

“I just didn’t know what else to do”

“that’s what friends are for you know… and we are”

“Thanks, Potter”

“You really won’t let that go huh”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ “Sorry Potter” James laughed, his snickers pulled at the corners of your lips

“Are you spending the rest of the day at home then?”

“Probably— but I’ll call you in a bit yeah? I’d rather leave now, I didn’t think it through before I called” You covered your face with your hand as a group of people passed by. “Im still in the middle of the street”

“How are you calling then?” He sounded genuinely confused

“a pay phone?”

“o-oh… right, call me back when you get home then… or I’ll spam call you again”

“alright alright-“ you both laughed, light and airy. breathless “Thank you, James”

You hung up the call, still gripping the handle of the phone with white knuckles as you exhaled.

You needed to get out of there.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you ran down to the tube’s station, you could feel the adrenaline of excitement in your veins as you passed the various stops towards your flat.

“Hey,” You said, catching your breath as you entered, your roommate mumbled a vague hello from her desk as she hunched over her architecture assignment.

“By the way the phone’s been ringing off it’s bloody base for a while now- I dont know what sort of call center you got going on in there,” she said, looking up from her sketchbook.

You laughed as you took your coat and scarf off.

The phone rang again

“I’m serious if you’re running some sort of telephone scam I want a cut-”

“I’ll let you know if it pans out” you said with a laugh, crossing the distance between the door and your room. You closed the door quickly behind you, launching yourself to grab the phone

“I thought I was going to call you Potter, my roommate thinks I’m running a telephone scam”

“Who’s Potter?” He said. It wasn’t James, obviously, his voice starkly different. A spark missing in it.

“Oh-”

“You sound like you were expecting someone else?”

“N-no it's no one- why are you calling?”

“Why aren’t you here? I just got here” he said, almost in indignation. you glanced at the clock

“It’s been two bloody hours, I went home—”

“Oh-”

“Yeah… oh”

“I’m sorry sweets, I had things to take care of… I’m sure you can understand that come on”

“And you just thought I’d wait?”

“I thought maybe you’d cut me some slack- you should come… I don’t know maybe I misread you”

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know… I just got back”

“How about I go over there then hm” he just wants to get in my pants… you could practically hear your own thoughts… your ears rang

“My roommate’s home-”

“And?”

You sighed, you felt so stupid.

“Come on- I'm sure she won’t mind”

“I can ask her…”

“Wicked, I’m on my way yeah?” He hung up before you could refute.

You groaned into your hands, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You wondered if you ever did.

You didn’t think you wanted him anymore… you thought of James briefly.

You popped your head out your door

“Would you mind it if someone came over…”

“As long as it’s not that poor excuse of a man then sure I don’t mind-” She said looking over her shoulder casually. “It’s the rat, isn't it? god you never learn”

“He stood me up today Char- I don't know what to do anymore…” you screamed into your hand, you tried swallowing the knot in your throat “He just called asking where I was- I waited for him for over an hour… he basically invited himself over”

“Is that who’s been blowing up your phone the past week?”

“No… that's…” you looked away, “no one,” you needed to call James back

“Why so cagey” she wiggled her eyebrows, “Is it another suitor? Do I know him? Have you guys gone out yet? Why is he calling you every day?”

“Jesus slow down Charlotte- god…” you sighed, leaning against the door frame “It’s just a friend”

She narrowed her eyes, staring at your face

“Good god- you like this friend”

“Charlotte no! I just met him,”

“And?”

“We haven’t even met… properly”

“But you’ve spent hours on the phone the past couple of days it's him right? you’re paying the difference in the phone bill by the way” she said, you rolled your eyes with a nod

“Maybe- but it doesn’t mean anything okay? It can’t, we are just… becoming friends”

As Charlotte smirked, ready to tease you further there was a knock at the door— she groaned

“I can’t believe you’re letting that disgusting pile of shit in here- Again”

You agreed with her. You did. You couldn’t believe the situation, not how you bent over so easily nor his audacity. You didn’t say anything, you couldn't bear to meet her eyes as you went to answer with a huff.

“Hey, sweets-” You barely opened the door before he pushed his way through. “Ah- Lottie how are you?”

“Detrimental now that you’re here, how about you go terrorize some bar instead of terrorizing my home and my roommate hm?” She bit

He just smirked

“We both know you’re the only one day drinking here- besides I don't hear y/n complaining.”

You knew Charlotte expected you to refute. You stared out the window, you could feel his hand wrap around yours and your roommate sigh.

You were slowly dragged to your room.

You could hear the TV turn on soon after your door closed. Charlotte turned the volume up to the max again. But you knew this time, there was no humor behind it.

Joshua was not a peculiar man. He was quite bland, a common brand of man you avoided your whole life, too cocky and full of himself, too sure that you along with everyone else wanted him, too much money and not enough responsibilities. He was despicable for all intents and purposes. Never committed, never made good on his word, and never answered the phone unless it served him. But somehow… you found yourself in his web, like a mouse trapped in a glue trap.

You thought of James again, briefly, fleeting, as Josh pressed his lips against yours. You wondered if James was waiting for your call if he even cared if you called back…

The phone rang. Loudly, annoyingly. A saving grace.

You rushed to answer it, James’s voice coming through the other end

“Did you forget to call back or what?” You sighed in relief, a smile instinctively spreading across your lips.

“Hey-” you sat on your bed, “something like that…” you turned to Josh, as he stared at you dumbly. This is going to be a while- you mouthed.

He left with a huff.

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

#harry potter #the marauders era #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james fleamont potter #james potter x you #james potter series #james f potter #prongs x reader

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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 1 day ago

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*peeks in*

Could I request some hcs for your husband Geo, my husband Sol and Deryl (separately, established relationship) who’s s/o goes to a wedding event with them, and then they both have the opportunity where they can dress up in wedding attire for a photoshoot at the event and pretend that it’s their future wedding?

Something like the Standing Next to the Kind and Gentle You event from pjsekai if that helps even a little!

Thank you if you take this!💛

A Frozen Moment

Hey Anon! Hope this is what you had in mind, thank you for requesting me to write this!

Sidenote: Deryl got over his crush on Jess, it’s in the past now. Also yes it’s a wee bit shorter. My brain had no clue how weddings work.

I suck at titling things holy shit.

Hope you enjoy! 😌

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels

Sol is someone who avoids most social gatherings like the plague, the only people he’d probably make exceptions for are you and Hyugo. So when Hyugo announces that he’s marrying a chick he loves, Sol and you definitely show up - with him offering aid if Hyugo needs anything.

The two of you are considered to be very close friends of his, so at the wedding you both generally get better seats and are able to actually know and find things out easily, due to your connections with Hyugo.

Anyway this wedding - as expected of a highly wealthy and famed family - was exclusive, very bougie, very esteemed. You barely knew anyone there, so you and Sol were essentially stuck together, talking to people who didn’t appear to be insanely rich or crazy.

In terms of dress code, you both wear matching outfits (mostly his idea), but he’s a man who wants people to know he’s yours and that you’re his. You both doll the other up and overall just goof around before actually arriving.

Sol may or may not be taking notes for your own wedding.

He definitely serves as support for Hyugo, because most people - even extremely chill ones - would freak out at the idea of themselves getting *married*.

Anyway after the ceremony, you both congratulate them yadayada and eventually he jokes that he can get you two to be photographed in your own wedding attire while him and his new spouse go off to do their own things.

You two agree and essentially are allowed to get dolled up even further, and it’s only friends who kinda remain at the point where you guys are doing this.

Sol typically hates being photographed, but eventually gets used to it when he notices how pretty you look. Mans is stunned. That view is ingrained into his brain.

You two definitely keep the photos, he wants to put them everywhere, while you’re someone who believes you should wait for your real wedding to commence.

He seriously considers proposing then and there, but decides against it. That is a moment reserved for a special time and place.

Not that you two aren’t seriously considering it now. Well, not like you weren’t before but anyway-

Geo is reluctant to rock up to any wedding, the only ones he’ll even slightly consider going to are ones for his close friends and, of course, family. Somehow Jericho Ichabod was a close enough friend that he - and you - both agreed to show up for the event.

And, well; he was - somehow (he still doesn’t get why) - requested to be the best man.

He was almightily horrified when he received this request, and accepted (albeit highly reluctantly). It’s not that he didn’t wish to support his friend, it’s more he has no clue what he’s doing and then realises he has to talk to random people he doesn’t know.

You’ll be wearing the standard guest dress code - so you wear a somewhat fancy dress that both makes you look magnificent, but without causing any issues with other people (thank God). Geo had to wear a classic suit and he’s forced to style his hair - which deeply aggravates him, he doesn’t want random people touching his hair or him.

Either way, you both show up to the grand event - after all, Crowe is a wealthy man - and you two spend the evening getting through it as best as possible. He’s internally struggling to muster up a facade of caring about these strangers (and the noise is killing him), but he’s been in enough of these janky rich-people gatherings that he does an immaculate job. You are trying to serve as both emotional support (for Geo, Crowe, his spouse if you know them) while also enjoying yourself.

However, after all the important things are out of the way, like the actual ceremony and the after-party begins (because of course there’s an after-party), that’s when some of your friends, like Brit and Deryl, find out from Crowe that people who wanna take fancier photos with their fiance(e)/partner are allowed to. So eventually, you convince Geo to join you for this opportunity.

You both are allowed to dress into traditional (or modern, whatever serves as your cup of tea) wedding attire and just get photographed.

So, after a while you both somehow select outfits (not because you’ve secretly been searching for wedding dresses noo you’d never), you two come out wearing spiffing clothing and get your photos taken.

Despite how quick the whole thing is, you two look spectacular - and oddly enough, Geo looks genuinely happy, he’s smiling.

You guys get to keep the photos (if paparazzi don’t take them first because this is Subaru Oogami), and you hang a couple of your favourites around your shared home. Geo smuggles the rest away somewhere to add to his endless stockpile of photos he has of things he adores (90% minimum include you by this point).

It definitely serves as a catalyst for…future plans…to start being carefully planned. Not that the other isn’t doing the same thing. (dramatic much?)

Deryl and yourself are excited af when Brittney and Jess decide to get legally married. The both of you are screaming when you find out, and you bet your asses you’re rocking up like the divas you are. You’re bringing the enthusiasm to this fucking wedding.

On the actual day, you both are hyping the girls up, reminding them that they look awesome and sexy and hot like the boss ladies they are. Dress code is pretty relaxed, just look formally presentable. He wears a suit - his one had to be custom made because this man is huge - and the two of you end up having a very philosophical discussion on how sad it is that men only wear suits to fancy occasions. They lack imagination, but alas, he complies.

You on the other hand wear something pastel, like a baby blue or - if you’re the moody and brooding type - a dark red or purple. (can you tell I’ve never been to a wedding before)

During the actual event Deryl is resisting to vore the food (and yapping to Geo), you’re talking to Crowe and the girls are freaking out. As for the post-ceremonial celebrations the sapphics decide to drink a bit and give you two - and all the other couples that they like - a chance to just go ham and have their own sexy wedding photos.

You and Deryl are skeptical at first, but after getting permission from both of them (multiple times) you guys go ham. All your photos are so silly, but the joy that oozes from them is palpable. You guys are excited, not just for the newly-weds, but part of you both yearn for the day when a wedding will be unifying you two by law.

You guys keep the photos and frame a couple, deciding to keep them for memories’ sake. Deryl looks at the, fondly, despite his internal worries about when he’ll propose. It’s daunting, but…hey, he’s got friends and you; so everything’ll be okay. Just gotta be patient a bit longer…

#reminder that geo is superior #the kid at the back #tkatb vn #tkatb #geo subaru oogami #tkatb x reader #geo oogami #tkatb geo #sol brugmansia #solivan brugmansia #tkatb sol #tkatb deryl #deryl helianthus #SFABC writes #geode oogami #an attempt was made #am i falling off yall #weddings scare me

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miwiheroes · 3 days ago

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Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 2 - Queercoding Jokes from the writers

I could have done three separate posts on these but you guys deserve a treat! So here are three subtle jokes that the writers make about Mike being gay to queercode him. Jokes are made about men being gay a lot in tv shows, especially ones in the 2010s, however, the ‘subtlety’ of these ones just show that they were made for queer people to pick up on. Or they are subtle clues that after S5, we are meant to look back on and laugh.

1. “El? Sorry, not interested.”

Could have easily said: Sorry, wrong number.

Could have easily said: Damn it.

Stuff like this makes me feel insane but seriously i think its really funny from my perspective (even if it wasn't intentional but like, the writers aren't THIS dumb to put in something like this without knowing how it sounds, right?)

2. "I have an idea. Boys only."

This one just a lil silly and when ppl first started to take this as a queer coded line I was literally like cmon it's probably not that deep. But then again, double meanings do exist and saying stuff like this that can be easily explained away is often used to subtly nod towards something rather than just outright joking about it. This would be to make it so the plot point is still a surprise, but would make sense on a rewatch.

Also, I only really saw this as queer coding when I remembered that Will saying 'A day free of girls' is obviously queer coding as well, and that too is a little double meaning nod towards his sexuality. So why can't it be for Mike- *gunshots*

3. "Straight... straight..." "Right on the money, as I said." "It just doesn't make sense."

Bear in mind this is literally after the van scene where Jonathan sees Mike staring at Will in the rearview mirror from a third-party perspective (meaning from Will's pov he has no clue Mike has any feelings towards him).

I view this line, and really really 'random' ass way of writing what they're trying to figure out, as a joke about the fact that the audience (who are also a third-party perspective to the van scene) have no idea what the hell Mike is thinking. We still have no idea if he knows the painting is really from Will, but we know that Will is talking about himself. And from the way Mike looks at Will, the audience and Jonathan are conflicted because this whole time Mike's been with El ('straight... straight'), and Mike claims to have feelings towards her ('right on the money as i said').

But now it 'doesn't make sense'.

This was a silly one ngl but tomorrow's might be more serious i promise

#byler #byler nation #byler endgame #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #stranger things 5 #byler evidence #byler proof #miwiheroes daily byler

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sucker-just · 3 days ago

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I am always impressed with how little a lot of students can take away from highschool English. There was definitely some real dross in there, you wouldn't catch me willingly rereading Border Crossing (think Equus but much longer and with all the fun and vitality and rambling about Gods and Place stripped out and add in more descriptions of a middle aged man's sad penis), but they're really trying to get you to at least remember something. Engage with anything at all please.

Best highschool English text for me was by far the class reading of Oedipus. That year's teacher was new but realised she could run the mandatory Shakespeare portion in the mandatory film element and have us read the old dusty copies the school storage shelves had as our play given ancient history was no longer running (teacher who ran it was caught with CSAM). I was one of maybe three kids in the room who knew what was going to happen and was therefore barred from talking about it or being one of the readers. Most of the readers were pretty checked out half heartedly saying words they didn't care to understand or think about much, because it was a great way for the teacher to force participation from the most lackluster students. The moment of the reveal there was a beat and then the kid who's reading Oedipus' parts goes "what?" The wave of calamitous revulsion that radiated out from him at that point, the way you could hear the outlying students starting to eew as the more central ones were going back to "you can't be serious did he really this can't what". The effort that was put in to relitigating the steps of this deduction, the clues to the events that led up to this now with added interest was an incredible change. The instinct of 16 year olds to be like no, adults wouldn't actually trust us to let alone make us act out a literal mother fucking play, a play where someone has fucked his mother and that's been the problem the whole time. The impact of the reveal's aftermath with everyone in the room now at real attention.

Get yourself a group of unsuspecting kids to read Oedipus and some of them will come out of the room grinning from the experience of seeing a real life chorus reacting to disturbing and shocking new information (an incredibly old and well known story). And most of the rest of the class will at least remember something of it I'll tell you that much.

I straight up do not trust you if you did not enjoy a single book you had to read for English class. I know they assigned some real stuffy stinkers and the curriculum varies across districts but not one? Not The Outsiders? Not The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not Fahrenheit 451? Not even Frankenstein? Damn. That’s crazy.

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baji-sideblog · 18 hours ago

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A drink with a god

Cw dubious consent, noncon (reader is drunk), no gender mentioned

༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻

The night was peaceful as always, Dio took in a deep breath. He typically traveled at night when visiting the mortal world less busy then. Easier to travel around too since no one would notice him. Walking into a local bar he sat in the corner by himself to drink in peace.

The CandleBoat was a very small bar that Dio often went to. He enjoyed it a lot it was rustic and charming run by an older man and his family. Unlike other bars he’s visited throughout his life the family who ran this one never bothered him. Most other folks would tried to smooze up to the god thinking he was a rich patron that they could get more money from. It annoyed him he comes to bars to be alone to drink not to be hassled by more people. So the CandleBoat was a diamond in the rough since they just let him be.

“A nice break from the little idiots. Good old beer my friend how I missed you.”

Ten drinks in and Dio was still very much sober and very aware of you walking in fast hurrying away from a man following you. Dio wasn’t one to get involved in mortal’s lives, but he’d make an acceptance tonight. Walking over he stood by your side staring down at the man. It was obvious you didn’t know who the creep was following you.

“Sweetheart you kept me waiting. I was worried about you I was just about to go looking for you.”

He noticed how nervous and overwhelmed you looked, and a hint of relief in yours eyes that he was helping you out. Dio gently wrapped his arm around you pulling you close. Looking at the creep following you it was obvious he wasn’t sure what to do now that Dio came over.

“Let’s go sit down, okay?”

Leading you to his booth he had you sit on the inside and he sat down on the outside on guard. He lowers his voice talking just loud enough for only you to hear him.

“You okay?”

“I guess…just scared.”

“Of course. You can stay as long as you need by my side. Rest assured that man won’t bother you anymore.”

The god gave you a gentle smile subtly waving his hand in the direction of the creep casting a curse on the man. Oblivi would have fun with punishing his soul soon. His yellow and pink eyes look deep into yours, he had to admit you were a gorgeous mortal inside and out. He could feel his heart racing from being nearby you how odd, this was definitely new for him. The god thought to himself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mortal that’s peaked my interest like this one before.”

Dio turned away from you to watch as the creep left the bar, he started counting in his head. After 45 seconds he could hear the thud of the man’s body falling to the ground dead in the alleyway. With another subtle wave of his hand Dio made the body rot so fast it was like it was never there, all while he was still in his seat. No mortal would have any clue what happened which was for the best.

“He’s gone, you’re safe now. Here you can have a sip of my beer if you want, you look like you need something to take the edge off. Warning you it’s strong and hits fast since this one is brewed with giants in mind.”

His hand gently pushed the cup to you there was only a quarter left, before looking away to raise his right hand to order a water for you. He kept his left arm around you even though the man was gone Dio didn’t want to let go. Looking back Dio was a bit taken aback to see you had almost finished the beer that he had left.

“Haha looks like I was right about you needing it. Never seen someone chug a beer that fast before.”

He smiles at you gently, before noticing how red your face was getting. You were swaying a bit your eyes drooping. He sighs shaking his head and gets up gently taking your hand and leads you out of the booth. Paying his bill he takes you out the bar and walks you home. He kept his arm around you to support you. Dio was glad he could just know where you live with his abilities since he wasn’t sure how well you would talk in your state.

Once he got to your apartment he opened it up and laid you down on your bed. Before he could pull away you grabbed onto his arm.

“Please stay..”

“You’re drunk, you don’t want me too.”

“I do, I really do. I neeed you please.”

Hearing your needy voice made the man want to fold right there. He never heard someone ask for him so intimately, so tempting it was. His heart ached. Dio goes to take your hand off of his arm when you sat up and kiss him. The god froze he wasn’t use to this, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t, they’re a mortal. But this feels so right. Is this what Obelix always drones on about..love? If it is then what’s the harm in indulging I can just fix anything need be.”

He kissed you back joining you onto the bed quick to undress himself. Your hands messily take off your own clothes leaving yourself nude to him. Dio let his second pair of arms appear grabbing at your hips rubbing them. As his first pair holds your cheeks as you two made out. He groans through the kiss feeling your hands touch his cock it harden under your touch. You could feel it was rather thick and had pronounced veins. Pulling away he leaves kisses from your lips down to your neck before biting into your flesh leaving a mark. Once he knew it wouldn’t fade any time soon he pulled away Dio and licked the area.

“So delicious, spread your legs now.”

Once your legs were spread Dio grabs your thighs and pulls them up and over his shoulders. Your back was on the bed one pair of hands on your hips the others your thighs. His long thick tongue teased at your sensitive hole before forcing his way in. The man took his time to eat you out making sure to get you nice and prepared. Your moans echoed through your bedroom and only grew louder when his tongue hits that special spot. He chuckles the vibrations made you squeal. Using his tongue he curls it up in you to make your toes curl.

Pulling away for just a moment he spat at your hole to make sure it was wet before going back for seconds. Dio had never tasted something as divine as you before. He could feel your legs quivering as you got closer to your release. And just before you do he pulls out his tongue from you licking his lips.

“No, not yet baby. You’re going to cum when I tell you to. So be good and hold it for daddy.”

Pulling your legs off of him and setting them down, he grabs onto shoulders and hips flipping you onto your belly. He forced you onto your knees positioning himself behind you. Dio felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine seeing you like this for him. His cock twitches and aches from excitement. Slowly he entered inside of you doing shallow thrust. His hand finds its way to the middle of your back putting enough force on you to keep you down.

His thrust get faster the sounds of wet slaps and yours moan turned the god on more. He could feel your body cling onto his cock with each hard thrust. With the speed he was going at it made you feel like your insides were being rearranged. Dio could get use to this having you by his side constantly.

“Good baby, good baby. Fuck I’m never letting you go. You’re mine now. Forever.”

The god’s chest lays against your back his hand reaches under you touching your chest. Lost in the pleasure, possessiveness clouded Dio’s mind. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to lose such a prefect person, he just wanted to have you forever. Casting a spell he linked your soul to his as soulmates. Pulling up from your back Dio presses your chest against the wall to help get leverage to let him hey deeper in you.

“I can feel your body quivering, you’re going to cum baby? Well then cum. Cum while daddy fucks his cum deep into your slutty body.”

Pleasure took over your body as you climax hard your body shaking and tried. Dio growls as he cums in you, he wraps his arms around you lying down while keeping his cock inside.

“Look at you, good job. You did so good taking all of me. I never felt like this before. Damn I didn’t ever realize how pent up I was till now.”

You could feel his cock twitching as it continues pumping you full of his cum even after a couple of minutes have passed. He kisses your lips lovingly watching you as you drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight…my love. I’ll be here once you wake forever.”

༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻

#yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #baji rambles #dio the earth god #god party #yandere male #yancore #yandere writing

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introspectivememories · 2 days ago

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timbern au where tim and bear are married in secret and no one knows bc a) it's not anyone else's business and b) tim's the face of wayne ent. and he doesn't want weirdos harassing bear while he's out and about. so they get married in secret and all the public knows is that tim drake-wayne one day started showing up in public with a wedding band and no explanation. there's rumors and theories of course but nothing substantial.

and then one day, tim calls a public press confrence and he looks haggard and unkempt. there's dark circles under his eyes and he keeps fidgeting with his wedding band. his face is scruffy like he hasnt shaved in days and his suit is ever so slightly rumpled. the viewer count grows higher and higher by the minute. finally he speaks and he says that he's been receiving threats for the past few month. that he tried to solve the case privately with the cooperation with the police but something terrible has happened recently and now he needs the public's help. my husband is missing, he says. a photo of his husband is shown on the screen behind him. it's been one week since he's been taken.

his name is bernard dowd he says voice catching, he's the light of my life. every camera in the room catches the way his eyes gloss over. i have loved him since college. please i dont know what to do without him.

he's 27, with blond hair. tall about 6ft and he like funky patterns. he smiles and the world lights up. he always makes me laugh and he gives the best hugs. and-

tim's voice catches on a sob, the mics pick it up anyway.

and, he continues, i have loved him in some way since i was 16. so please if you have any information on him or if you've seen him, i beg you to call the number on the screen.

tim drops his head, desperately trying not to ugly sob on camera. his lips are chapped and swollen from how often he's biting them. his hands tremble and he can feel his family's concerned stares but he has to do this.

they have no leads, no clues, nothing. just a single, grainy, convenience store security camera footage of a man shoving bernard into an unmarked car and driving off. nobody knows anything. and tim can't do this anymore, he needs his husband back. and even if his bear is dead now, then he needs the body back. he needs to curl around his husband one last time. he needs to hold his hand on the way down. tim needs him to breathe.

one last statement, he thinks, then we can go back to wearing his hoodies and rotting on his side of the bed. then we can go back to staring at the door like he'll walk through it at any moment.

lifting his head, he looks at the first camera he can find and says, i haven't loved him enough yet. i haven't made him laugh as much i should've. i haven't apologized for coming home late the night before he got taken. i haven't loved him enough yet. please, if you see him or know anything, please call the number.

and bear, baby, if you're watching this from wherever that man took you, i love you. till the heat death of the universe, remember?

he laughs wetly, and even if you're tired, you gotta keep fighting until i find you okay? you didn't give up on me all those years ago, and i'm not giving up on you now.

i love you bernard. i'll see you soon.

#unedited bc im too lazy to wait until i get home to do it #also ran outta steam at the end there lol #and yes #this is based on the press conference baek sa eon gives in the kdrama 'when the phone rings'#but im not finishing that fuckass kdrama so whatever #anyway so fucking funny that i keep coming back to these two losers #timbern the gift that keeps on giving #anyway #to 2025 and writing more this year!#bernard dowd #tim drake #timbern #timber

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jujumin-translates · 3 days ago

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[A3!] Tsuzuru Minagi | [R] Casually Showing Skin Mode | L3tt3r Fr0m A Gy4ru

Tsuzuru: (And I’m finally done with classes for the day. Okay, guess I’ll head home—.)

Tsuzuru: (Hm? That’s quite the crowd. Wonder what’s going on…)

Taichi: Ah, Tsuzuru-kuuun!

Juza: Good work.

Tsuzuru: Oh, so you guys are here too. Is there some kinda event going on or something?

Taichi: I dunno, we just got here. It sure is busy. Wonder what’s up.

Juza: Huh, there’s a whole lotta stuff here. They’ve got random things, books, ‘n even household appliances lined up.

Tsuzuru: Ahh, I get it… It’s probably a reuse market.

Taichi: Reuse market?

Tsuzuru: It’s a kinda on-campus event where students who are about to graduate give away things they don’t need anymore to younger students.

Juza: Now that ya mention it, you got a book of short stories at the last one, didn’t ya, Tsuzuru-san?

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I was curious about this one that one of the upperclassmen told me about, but it happened to be out of print.

Taichi: Damn, lucky! Where’s that book now?

Tsuzuru: After I finished reading it, I started passing it around the company to anyone who wanted to read it.

Tsuzuru: That reminds me, I wonder who’s got it now…

Taichi: Who are the ones who wanted to read it?

Tsuzuru: Umm, Miyoshi-san, and Takato-san have already read it… And I think Furuichi-san and Tsukioka-san said they were interested too.

Juza: I’m interested in readin’ it too.

Tsuzuru: Gotcha. I’ll bring it over to you whenever I get it back then, Juza.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: I’m back.

Tsuzuru: (...Huh, did I leave a book out on my desk…?)

Tsuzuru: (Ah, that was the book we were just talking about. What perfect timing to get it back. I’ll go and bring it over to Juza right aw—.)

*Paper falls out of the book*

Tsuzuru: …Hm? Did something just fall out of it?

Tsuzuru: A note?

Thx 4 l3nding m3 thiz, Tzr-kun. I w4z rlly impr3zz3d w h0w clvr th3 f0r3shad0wing w4z. Th3 nam3z of th3 flwrz n th3 flwr l4ngu4g3 m3nti0n3d n th3 prlg s3nt such 4 shvr d0wn my spin3 tht I rlzd tht th3 clprt mightv3 4ctlly b33n TwT nstd 0f xD. If I w3r3 t0 pl4y tht r0l3, M sur3 thtz wht I wld d0…

Tsuzuru: The hell…? Is this a cipher or a prank or something?

Tsuzuru: —Ah.

Tsuzuru: Is this… that gyaru-speak thing?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Tsuzuru: Jeez, he better still be here…

Omi: Welcome back.

Izumi: Hey, Tsuzuru-kun, would you rather have curry udon or soy milk curry hotpot for dinner tonight?

Tsuzuru: Aren’t both of them still curry? Well, it was pretty cold today, so hotpot would be…

Tsuzuru: Wait, that’s not what I’m here for! Is Miyoshi-san here?

Omi: Kazunari’s in the kitchen.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Lookin’ for me~?

Tsuzuru: The hell is this? I literally can’t read any of it…

Kazunari: Oh, gyaru-speak! What’s this about?

Tsuzuru: What do you mean ‘what’s this about’...? You didn’t write this?

Tsuzuru: It was stuck in the book I just got back, and you’re the only one who would write something like this, Miyoshi-san…

Kazunari: Ermm~, well, it wasn’t me.

Tsuzuru: What? But if it’s not you, then the people who I lent the book to after you were Takato-san, Furuichi-san, Tsukioka-san—.

Tsuzuru: No, it had to have been you, Miyoshi-san.

Izumi: Maybe if you read the note you’ll be able to figure out who wrote it?

Tsuzuru: Right. Umm—.

Tsuzuru: …

Tsuzuru: Yeah, not happening. I’ve got no clue what it says no matter how hard I try to read it…

Izumi: Let me see. …Umm, I can’t read it either.

Omi: Those don’t even look like sentences to me.

Tsuzuru: Damnit. What are we gonna do…?

Kazunari: I’ve gotcha, fam. I’ve got this gyaru-speak translator website.

Kazunari: Just gotta take a pic, scan the text, and… copy-paste and translate ♪

Tsuzuru: That’s incredible… So, what does it say?

Kazunari: “Thank you for lending me this, Tsuzuru-kun. I was really impressed with how clever the foreshadowing was. The names of the flowers and the flower language mentioned in the prologue—.”

Kazunari: “Sent such a shiver down my spine that I realized that the culprit might’ve actually been crying instead of laughing.”

Kazunari: “If I were to play that role, I’m sure that’s probably what I would do…”

Kazunari: Wait, could this be…

Tsumugi: I’m back~.

Tsuzuru: Perfect timing. Um, Tsukioka-san. About this note…

Tsumugi: Ah! Thank you for the book, it was really interesting.

Tsuzuru: No, not that…! Did you write this, Tsukioka-san?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Ah, did I forget to write my name on it?

Tsuzuru: Forget about that! Why is it in gyaru-speak!?

Tsumugi: Kazu-kun told me that gyaru stuff and gyaru-speak are really popular nowadays, so I tried using it.

Kazunari: Ohh~, yeah, so, I might’ve told TsumuTsumu about that translation website the other day…

Tsuzuru: So it WAS because of you!

Tsumugi: Ahaha, maybe I should’ve written it normally. Sorry, my bad.

Izumi: I never would’ve thought it was you, Tsumugi. That was quite a surprise.

Omi: Yeah. Good thing we figured it all out.

Kazunari: But like, wasn’t it kinda fun? It was like a little cipher game.

Tsumugi: Yeah, and it was really easy to do. Why don’t we recommend it to the others?

Kazunari: Banger idea, bestie! I bet RonRon and Taicchan would eat this up, don’tcha think?

Tsumugi: I bet Azuma-san and Homare-san would enjoy it too.

Tsuzuru: Wait! Quit trying to come up with weird trends!

#a3!#a3! translation #tsuzuru minagi #kazunari miyoshi #omi fushimi #tsumugi tsukioka #// kicking off my return by obliterating all my braincells while working on this

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whysoblue2 · 20 hours ago

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I DON'T KNOW WHO TRAVIS IS BUT IMMA BEAT HIS ASS, LEAVE MY MAN ALONE

First, I love this GIF and I think it's perfect. Second: Who is Travis? I decided to finally give him a face even if it's a quick drawing, cause he doesn't deserve a cool complete one. He is garbage. Name: Travis Age: 30ish Origin: Anura Past: Unknown

Travis is a Nice Guy™ ... But unfortunately, Kallamar had no fucking clue about that until it was too late. In the fic, Kallamar had the absolutely horrible idea to have half an hour (literally, not even a lunch break worth) with this guy being obvious and upfront it was a one-time thing. He did NOT get the message. He stalks Kall, and writes to him every other day signing himself as "your favourite Teddybear", so much that his letters remain unopened cause fuck that, Kall got more important things to do. But the situation is festering cause Kall (not used to people not doing what he says as a mortal) just dismissed the whole thing and shrugged it off. Now Travis allegedly got as bold as stealing Kall's favourite things when he was unaware. Where will it end? Ofc you probably wonder: how did one like Kall have a lunch break with THIS guy? Well first of all.. Pectorals. I mean. Then, Kallamar played Baldur's Gate 3 and instead of finding the Halsin experience he hoped for, he ended up with Stalky Bear here. The only one women wouldn't choose in the woods.

Thank you for asking and for protecting Squid Boi!💙

#cult of the lamb #cotl #the last bishop the first to fall #blue answers #cotl fanfic #cotl oc #cotl follower #someone hand me a bear trap please

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dollwhite · 1 day ago

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K.O K.O K.O

𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞

This is just a small story,I don’t know if I’m going to make it big. But if I don’t pls feel free to use my idea just give me credit!!

TW mentions if highness(aka weed)

No mentions of y/n

This isn’t really in my writing style, I wanted to try something different. If people like this I will write with this style more!!

Ps I need friends.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇

High,you were high as a light house right now. You found some old weed underneath your bed.Can weed get old? How old were you again? As more questions flooded your mind. You didn’t hear your name being called.

𝐊.𝐎

Where did the music go?.. just a few minutes ago, some random song was blasting .But now it’s like you could hear a pen drop.

𝐊.𝐎

Wait, this isn’t your bed? This isn’t your bedroom, you had black cat pictures on the door leading towards your bathroom. This isn’t your apartment…?

𝐊.𝐎

Who was that.. who was that calling you name?.. her voice sounds familiar. who is she. Do you know her. Isn’t her name R-Ram.?… why is she yelling your name..

“Ram..? What-were am I?..”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

It’s like something’s in your mouth blocking the flow.like the words aren’t meant to be there.

what’s wrong with you.

“K.o we have to go right now! The police are here come on.”..

As you sat up taking a full look around who ever room you were in. It looks nice, nothing out of the ordinary.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

“Are you sure this is the right address?” A figure with a blue bird embezzled on their chest spoke softly under their breath, but just loud enough for the other people on coms to hear. Also Taking notice of the youngest robin standing on top of a nearby building, waiting for the signal that Batman was supposed to be giving.

Police man were also on the scene, so all the suspects can be taking in to custody right away.

“Robin,Night-wing come in.” A deep voice came over the coms. The dark night himself was here to investigate this “party” in reality it was a human trafficking operation. The party was to lure young women primarily.

“I’m in, there’s approximately only three people left in this houses it looks like the others have left.” Robin’s voice filled the coms, informing his mentors about the situation.

As Robin makes a b line for the living room, Batman in the backyard looking for any kinda clues of were the traffickers went. And Nightwing in the bedrooms.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘

“Guys I found something…or someone” Nightwings words ring over coms. “Im on my way!” Batman yelled, Gotham dark night himself rushing into the house through the backdoor. Passing the youngest boy wonder, on the way.

“What-!” Batman stopped midway through his sentence. He know that this ‘party’ was just a cover up for human trafficking. But what he didn’t expect was to find a young woman high out of her mind. Maybe this was their new victim, and well they were in a hurry to get out of this house. They forgot to take her.

“Grab her, and take her back to the cave.” He said, “Don’t let the cops see you.”

“Alright pretty lady, up we go!” Night wing explained grabbing her in a bridal style.

“ promise not to drop me?..” you asked fear laced in your voice. “ Only a dummy would drop a pretty lady like you.” Nightwing said opening up a nearby window,shifting your weight on his more dominant arm.

he grabbed a all black grappling hook, “Hold on real tight for me?”

“Wait-what?!” You gasped, your hold on him tightening.

𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄

“Red I need you to do a saliva test”

“Nightwing, I’m not going to test you for stds go to a clinic” Red Robin said not taking his eyes off of the bat computer.”When have I ever asked you to- never mind that, the tests not for me it’s for her.”

“Who?” Red Robin asked turning around to look at Nightwing. Only to see a woman just staring back at him, in Nightwings arms. “uh, who’s she?” He asked, he prayed Niightwing didn’t just take a rondo lady off the street. ”this is pretty lady, pretty lady meet Red Robin.” “hi, uh I’m k.O” you said in a casual tone, as you climbed down from Nightwings arms. “Hey k.O, why is she her??” Red Robin said,”Br-Batman said your weren’t allowed to bring your flings in the cave”

”…she’s a woman we found at the party, we think they drugged her with something.”

That’s the end of K.O K.O K.O!!!! low-key think I cooked with this 😫 I tried my best to write for Tim, I think he gives off a moody teen vibes 😭 if y’all hit any suggestions for writing for Tim don’t be say drop them in my doll house!! It’s 4:18 am I got school in the morning wish me luck 😔 i

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momo-de-avis · 2 days ago

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...

Was enjoying my holiday, doing some shopping, and I get two missed calls from my brother at 3pm. I immediately get this sinking feeling in my stomach because we don't talk, he does not have a reason to call me, so I know something terrible has happened. I call back and when he answers, his voice is muffled and he's clearly tearing up. And that's when he says our father was found dead in a pretty fucked up way. And then he says "it's already on the news but he's not been identified". I'm gonna come out and say something I never do, but my father was once an extremely important public figure which is perhaps the main reason why we barely had a relationship and what in the end fucked up my family more than it was fucked already. And now they've identified him and it's everywhere on the news and I can't deal with this shit. I have never been in this position, I spent years of my childhood having my surname recognised by randos who made a huge deal, I have debated changing my surname because of it, but past the 2010s it stopped. I just cannot conceive being thrown in the middle of this shit AGAIN.

Also, what the fuck are you supposed to feel. This person was never there for me except financially , that's the one area he never ever failed. I grew up in a family split in the middle. He never even announced to me that he had a new daughter, introduced me to his partner (who I don't even know if he was married to or not) ONCE, never bothered inviting me to hang out and get to know her at all, just casually showed me a video of a little girl and told me her name, never even told me that was her daughter (i deduced It from context clues) and in the end of his life he was trying, he was trying to get close to me but was so fucking late. Last time we talked he asked me where I was going on vacation and I said Ponte de Lima and he said come over and stay with us, and I was so hesitant because that closeness never existed. A third of my life was spent devoid of this man's presence while reaping the fruits of his public career. Now he's dead in a freak accident and the person who communicated the news to my brother was the woman who gave him my supposedly half sister and never bothered to get to know me cause she doesn't even have my contact.

I feel like my mourning is for the man he could have been but never was, which is not much different from what my adult self has done for a while, and it makes me feel like a monster.

What the fuck am I supposed to feel? To do?

Portuguese people: however vague I was, you're all going to see it on the news and you're going to know immediately when you see it. This is a small country. Combine freak accident with public figure and it will be easily deducted. Yes, if I had a wikipedia page I'd have a blue link on my father's name. I just ask that you keep this to what it is and don't bring it up. I've been avoiding this shit my whole life and I just cannot conceive dealing with this crap right now

#personal and extremely sad and fucked up as a warning

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unfriendlies · 2 days ago

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his lips parted, thinking angel was going to finish in his mouth like he had so graciously done for garam but the man hadn't. garam flinched slightly as he felt warm liquid shoot onto his face and lips, which eventually dripped into his mouth. a hand lifted to wipe away what had spilled onto his cheeks, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. he was left smiling once angel had fallen back to lay down, eagerly taking a hold of his fingers when the man reached out to him. "we should've done this sooner." the words that left his lips so carelessly probably should have remained in his head.

garam smiled after being pulled to lay against the other's chest, his hand balling up to rest just below angel's ribcage curled up underneath his own chin. it'd been so long since he was actually given the opportunity to cuddle with somebody. "it's okay," his voice was small as he tried to hide his excitement from something others might have seen as so insignificant. he was quick to start shaking his head when the other mentioned garam needing a bath, though with the position they were both laying in, he wasn't able to shake it very much. "i think i want to stay right here." he countered as he shifted to press his nose against angel's chest, inhaling deeply. his lips were pressed next, trailing soft kisses up the other's neck until his nose nudged against angel's earlobe. only a second later, garam was taking that same earlobe between his lips and tugging on it gently. "i'm really happy," he whispered before nuzzling his face into angel's neck. he didn't stop there, though. garam continued kissing the man's neck, those kisses quickly turned into sucking as he was determined to leave a mark on the other's skin. it was an act done out of pettiness, not something he thought through, as he wanted there to be something clear and visible left of their time spent together. a mark that he was sure darius would see, assuming the man would see angel again before the marks faded. he knew his intentions were in the wrong place, he knew angel would probably be upset if garam were to clue him in on why he was doing this. but he needed the third party to know that angel was off limits, there was zero chance garam would let anything happen between the two of them beyond the kiss they shared outside angel's apartment. "i haven't gotten to do this in a long time," he continued to whisper, alternating between kissing and sucking the skin of angel's neck. when he was satisfied with the work he'd done, garam pulled away to look down at the few little burgundy marks now on angel's neck and smiled. he brought his hand up to run his finger over the larger mark, one he'd intentionally made in the shape of a love heart. "this is the only place you're allowed to leave marks on me," he said, tapping the mark he'd left. "you can do anything you want to me as long as you follow this rule. and if you break the rule, you don't get to touch me until the mark you made is gone." garam probably wouldn't follow through with the last part of his request, it'd feel more like a punishment for himself rather than for angel. he pushed himself up a little bit, still resting the majority of his upper torso on angel but he wanted to actually get a good look at the man underneath him. "i know i talked about wanting someone to be gentle with me but you don't have to if you like it rough. i like that, too, but there are also going to be times where i want things to be nice a-and intimate and, you know, not just fucking. and i know you're not ready to actually do stuff like that but what we did, if it happens again—" he paused, feeling his cheeks heating up. garam hated that he felt embarrassed talking about stuff like this, especially since he was so open about it when he wasn't sober. "i liked that you let your, um—" he paused again, a bashful smile creeping over, "your urges take control. your hips, you—" his eyes closed as he let his face fall back down to the crook of angel's neck. "you can fuck my mouth whenever you want." garam whispered, unable to actually look at the other.

Feeling Garam reach his limited internally and seeing it externally was a sight. Angel could feel the man tighten around his fingers and squirm in his hands. As he felt Garam reaching his climax Angel did everything he could to make sure the other man would never forget it. He began pumping his fingers at a rapid pace, aiming to hit his spot. His hand was soon replaced by the raven-haired man’s mouth. His cheeks hallowed as he sucked and bobbed his head. Being sure to deep throat him. He could feel the lazy pumps that the smaller man offered him. It turned him on even more that his best friend was so over come by pleasure that he couldn’t perform anymore. And the moans he was letting out were like music to his ears. Angel had imagined what they would sound like countless times. But never did he imagine how dam sexy they would be. The pants and whimpers didn’t help either. All he could imagine was their next time together. What they might be ready for down the road. And what noises he would make then. Angel could feel Garam’s cock twitching in his mouth and as he said he was gonna he pushed his head down and held it there. Swallowing every shot that was sent down his throat. His fingers continued to help the man ride of his climax and they gradually slowed. Just feeling his best friend grabbing at his thigh, moan the way he was, was enough to get Angel right where he needed to be. He slowly pulled off Garam and just looked down at him and he came all over his face. He released a string of shots back to back as his body tensed and trembled. “F-fuck” he moaned as he flopped down on the bed panting. Angel rolled over to lay on his back and look up at the ceiling. He laid their quietly for a moment and laughed as he could hear the shower water still going. Which reminded him how they got in this situation in the first place. “Garam, don’t tease me like that. You are too cute for that. I can’t help myself” Angel smirked and reached out a hand for Garam. He just wanted to feel him, know he was still there. He shifted before completely sitting up and moving to lay the same direction as Garam. He moved close to the smaller man and pulled him against his chest. He pressed a kiss to his hair as he rubbed the man’s back, “I’m a cuddler after sex. I hope that’s alright.” Angel admitted. He was always this way which was unfortunately a turn off for many. He realized early on he couldn’t be with someone who could just get up and walk away or turn over after sex. Angel hated that feeling it made him feel unwanted and unashamed in some ways. As in they got what they wanted and had no use for him. Angel also enjoyed taking care of his partner, in general, but especially after intercourse. “I’ll order pancakes in. We can go out for dinner. How does that sound? I think you need a bath, and we can watch a movie” Angel offered some ideas as his hand moved to Garam’s hair. He quietly played it with running his fingers through the strands.

#me having to break the reply up bc character limits dumb af #threads #thread: min garam #garam & angel #ang3lmoan

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pricegouge · 3 days ago

Note

I saw you were asking for horror prompts 😈 so here’s my scary perverted one:

Vampire!Nik who’s turned when his milaya is still a baby. Comes back 20+ years later to haunt and turn her so they can spend eternity together despite the fact that she doesn’t even remember him❤️🥀

-🗡️

okay, yeah. i had fun with this one, thank you!

cw: incest. age gap, but only kinda cause vampires. horror elements. vague vampire lore, including thralls. dubcon kissing/heavy petting. blood. unedited as usual, sorry. abrupt ending cause i ran out of steam. ~5k

he can't be bothered to watch over you for many years. life (death, rather) is just all so very exciting. he spread his wings. proverbial, maybe, though he's heard tell of something more ancient. more literal.

he doesn't forget you. how could he? you haunt his waking hours for what seems an eon, days and nights blurring until he has to rest for long years, wakes to a different time entirely and worries about how much he's missed.

much, as it turns out.

you're a proper woman when next he sees you, headstrong and borderline unrecognizable. he follows you for days, weeks. learns all your patterns, the quiet parts of yourself you seem to keep hidden behind locked doors he can only pass because he installed them, the bones of the house shaped by his own hands - an estate that's fallen to ruin, once-lavish halls picked apart by collectors, barren and drab with the dwindled staff. he tells himself it's a morbid type of curiosity but he knows better the second he lingers too long, sees you for the woman you've become when you undress before him, gazing upon yourself in a mirror that won't betray his presence, even if he wants it to. wants to see confusion cloud your face as recognition wars with your fear. you must have seen photos of him, your governess keeping you educated on the man who'd given you a name and a fortune and left in the night. he doesn't look quite look like himself anymore, but he more closely resembles you than he does his re-creator. and surely that in itself should sway you?

for you must be as lonely as him.

night fall is the worst for you, those lingering hours after the staff have retired where sleep eludes you, entices you to pick up hobbies which have not given you joy for many years. you'd been moved to the master suite some time back, the overlarge bed as tempting as a siren. you'd grown slovenly, your governess always said so. lax in your studies and far too melancholy to find a suitor.

but what could it matter, really? the estate had been searching tirelessly for a match since your first season, the only bachelors who'd made offers old and penniless. you still had a pretty enough dowry, but no one wanted to be saddled with the get of some wayward lord. not when there'd been no proper abdication. not when the specter of your father loomed over every inch of the estate, his fist still clutching at every gem. sometimes you imagined the sheets even still smelled like him, a faint trace that would linger some mornings and burn up with the sun when you finally let the maid in to draw the curtains.

but it was just a silly fantasy, some trace of comfort born from loneliness. in truth, the only possible clue you could have of your father's scent rests in the humidor tucked in the corner by the secretary - fine cigars turned stale, full-bodied notes now arid. hollow as the house itself.

you're sat with one, dry, peeling paper tickling your philtrum as you try to discern what flavors still linger. licorice, certainly; heavy and cloying. something earthier under it, a fine balance. leather, maybe. it's a distraction, a mindless way to pass the hours before you could feasibly fall into bed without your prying governess saying anything, shut your thoughts off for a time. you'd already written in your diary, another dull entry. brief with the monotony of your life. honestly, cataloging the notes you can pick out of these ancient, abandoned cigars would make for a more interesting read. this one still smells the strongest, though the paper has turned brittle with handling. sometimes you watch the gentlemen of the ton, carefully memorizing the precise way they snip the ends off, roll the cigar over the open flame of their lighters. you often imagine doing the same, like to picture yourself smoking the aged rolls expertly.

really, you know you'll end up in a coughing spell loud enough to wake the whole house, but the truth is you've never tried. it's a curiosity that's grown on you, the slow creep of moss over rotting trunks. you swap the cigar for something less flavorful, something that won't be missed, and rifle through the secretary until you find the little cigar kit you'd kept safely tucked away. maybe, like the rest of society, part of you expects it's owner to return someday, reclaim what's his.

the cigar falls apart a little, once clipped. flaky shreds of tobacco and other strong herb shake out at first, but you moisten the edges of it delicately, lick your fingers as daintily as possible and fuss about the paper until becomes slightly more malleable. lighting it is less of a chore than expected, the oils long dried. shake catching like tinder. you yelp and wave it out, stamp the little ashes that rain onto the carpet with a slippered toe. feel silly after. sillier still when you take your first drag and think for a moment you've managed to imbalance all your humors - immediate expectorant clogging your nose, inflaming the column of your neck. rough wool, still matted and nettled from the field fills your lungs and you cough, ragged and silent.

small blessing, no prying governess to heed your call.

light-headed, you wobble to the window, breathe deep of the frigid breeze you let in. winter steals in around you, rattles the pane on it's way past and sends the curtains fluttering. it makes your chest ache in a new way, but is a balm to your overheated skin, soothes your throat as you gasp for each breath. clutched in your fingers, the cigar glows brightly in the strong wind, crackling away happily. as your sinuses clear, you note the lingering heaviness of licorice, a black tar that seems to seep down your throat, gags you. you give it up for a bad job and smother it on the pane before tossing it onto the roof below. with any luck, a curious crow will snatch it away before spring melt off can dump it into the pasture, catch the attention of the gardeners. you've no clue how well-acquainted your governess is with the brands your father used to smoke and you've no plan to find out, resolving to leave the window open all night if you have to in order to clear the stench of your foolish endeavor.

the candles have guttered but it's no matter, the moon bright enough that you can disrobe and navigate to bed even without them. it's not a difficult endeavor anyway, the bed such a ridiculously oversized piece it dominated most of the room and called into question the size of the man who'd commissioned it. you drown in it most nights, restless, twisting yourself up in sheets that stretched on forever, wound around you until you'd wake gasping, clawing at your own belly as if to loosen the stays of a corset that wasn't there. the physician who'd come to see to you was unsympathetic to your claims that the bed was simply too large - had suggested sleeping in your corset instead, claiming it would soothe your nerves and prevent you trying to bind yourself in your sleep.

it did not work, but your maid, alice, was loyal to the governess. tied your stays in the back, much too tight for you to undo once she'd left you alone. even now the boning digs at you, chest still heaving from your foolish endeavor. you settle on your back, try to keep your shoulders set back to encourage deep breathing and watch the shadows play about the room, curtains billowing with each icy gust. there's still too much smoke in the room, lingering up near your ceiling where it swirls about, never quite low enough to escape when the curtains ebb in a back draft. you hope you won't be stuck with the window open all night. already, fine dustings of snow slip past, tip toe up your bed to catch your covers and set your legs shivering.

the blankets twist about you again when you turn to your side, but for once you don't mind, your own body weight keeping them tucked firmly in place so the wind can't steal your heat away again. your breath evens as you finally begin to relax, body forming to the mattress just as much as it forms to you. sleep finds you slowly, lulls you into it with deep sighs, your breath matching that of the house itself. you time idly, watching the curtains in the cloudy mirror of your vanity - the only concession to your residence in the whole room. a gift from some minor lady who'd once hoped to sway your favor toward her son - only to have him elope a month later with a merchant's daughter -, the piece stands out singularly in the dark, masculine room. gilded framework and ivory inlay, it catches the moonlight beautifully, pearlescent in the chill. you let yourself be entranced by the vision it makes, orpheus overtaking you, settling over you like a calming, physical weight which shifts, presses a knee between your own -

it feels like the chill has taken your blood when your eyes tear open, body frozen in place as you watch your reflection stir, pushed slightly further onto your belly while the blankets move seemingly of their own accord. you tell yourself it's the wind tugging at them again, but the way the flatten against the mattress makes no sense - and it's the not the wind that whispers your name in your ear.

still trapped in the bedding, you thrash uselessly before you're able to escape its clutches, only realizing you're screaming when the breath is knocked out of you as you thud to the floor. help comes to lift you to your feet before you are able to do it yourself, alice's hands surprisingly firm when they dig under your arms and lift. you can't even manage to thank her, breaths stuttering out high and thin as you stare at your bed in wide-eyed shock: two distinct impressions of bodies, one curled around the other, yet completely empty. smoke curls above it, oddly thinner than that what still lingers around your ceiling. it breaks up on the next gust of wind, shatters around you with a cloyingly sweet scent.

---

your governess is cross to say the least.

the next day is spent in the kitchens, working away your transgressions into a particularly hard dough batch. she is unsympathetic to the terror that had overtaken you just before they'd rushed in to help. says she's certain they'd only heard your fresh coughing, although you try to point out that the cigar was already gone by then.

"don't be clever," she warns, an adage you've heard many times over the years. What man wants a clever wife?

she has the humidor emptied, says it should have been done long ago. you say nothing because probably, she's right.

alice isn't your friend, but sometimes she can be friendly. unlike your governess, she at least seems to have noticed your distress from the night before, simply nods in agreement when you ask her to warm your bed after she's done helping you dress that evening. perhaps she still sees it, the fear. she hums at you like she thinks you need at, at least, and maybe you do because it works quickly, your body exhausted after so much hard work and such little sleep.

---

despite your exhaustion, you do not sleep soundly. the midnight hour finds you fretful, though you're careful to remain still so as not to wake alice. you breathe in sync with her in an attempt to soothe yourself until you realize it's not her that moves but the house itself, curtains billowing in a breeze that shouldn't exist, windows locked tight for the night. strangely, the realization does not frighten you - not even when you turn to find alice staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes glossed over and vacant. skin leeched pale in the moonlight. you roll over to her, curious, and her eyes track over you uncomprehendingly, focus on a point at the far side of the room.

there's no decision to sit up, you simply do - chest rising first as if an anchor knot is rooted in your sternum, woven between the hollows of your ribs. the world tilts for a moment, and then rights itself, as if alighting with you on this new level. you observe the room much as it had been the night before, cold light filtering through whorls of smoke, though there's more of it now - thin trails of oily residue curling all around the room. it seems to ebb about the edges. even with the window locked tight, the room still seems to contract and compress, pressure increasing rhythmically before expanding again, fresh smoke rushing to fill it. you track the trail back to its source, a pin point ember which builds and gutters with swell, bobbing along on a tide. it takes a minute for your eyes to adjust but you make out the hand that holds it first, long fingers painted warm in the low light. it's the only bit of skin you can make out, the body attached to it settled so far back into the shadow it appears only as one itself - darker, deeper. barely distinguishable.

by its immense stature, you reason it is a man sat at your secretary. like alice's composure, there is a part of you that knows this realization should frighten you, but you're much too tired and curious to care, crawling to the foot of the bed so you can get a better look, continuing on over the edge and onto the floor when you still can't make out his features. your palms scratch against the worn wood, bearing too much weight in your awkward crawl, and room stills when you feel blood on the heel of your hand, the heat of it almost shocking in the cold air.

you only make it another stretch closer before the man recovers, the ember of his cigar flaring and popping as he takes a long drag, leans forward in his seat until you can make out a broad, stubbled jaw, two perfect white streaks glowing in the moonlight revealed when he finally drops his hand. his lips are wine-dark when they part, reveal a neat row of pearly teeth. he's impolite, blows his smoke directly at you. cloyingly sweet licorice and heady tobacco. you do not cough this time, though it's a near-miss. it seems to please him, lips tugging into a cruel smile as the smoke grows denser, begins to pour from his mouth in a thick, black cloud. it stains his chin, his teeth a black tar-like oil that smells too pungent. rotted.

you startle when alice screams, overcorrecting when you turn to her because she's there beside you, not behind, both of you still lying in bed.

"alice?" you start, trying to wake her, but your hand slips across her chest, slick with something dark and hot, and you freeze, unable to do anything as she continues to sieze and shriek beside you.

the governess comes, and then a doctor. in the confusion, you're shuttled off to the chair across the room. you're already settled into it by the time you realize it's where the man had sat, and you briefly take inventory of it, as if perhaps you could feel the traces of his body heat lingering. but the only thing of note is the trace whisps of dark sweets, easily explained away by your own mishap the night before.

they clean alice's wound and find a neat ring of teeth marks, your own good name saved by virtue of the doctor recognizing that they'd had time to heal - must have happened some other night, that alice must have been picking at them in her sleep. your governess's obvious distaste stills your tongue, unwilling to face her wrath if she believes you sympathetic to some street hussy. so you say nothing, even as alice shrieks about a man, about being accosted. even as they call her hysteric and pack her off. instead you sit silently, picking off the blood the that had dried to your hand when you'd gone to wake her. never mentioning the scrape you find beneath it and the congealed line of your own blood; the cut from when you'd flopped out of bed to crawl to his feet. because you can still smell it, the stomach-turning sweetness, and the heavy scent it had given way to, and you know what it was now, staining his handsome chin just as much as alice's breast.

and it's not fear, or even pity that settles low in your belly, simmers hotter than that ember which had sparked to life, woken you to his call.

you follow them when they walk her out, a small team of men needed to keep her restrained. she fights to be heard, but a part of you worries she fights to stay as well, the claws she sinks into the door frame intended to keep herself put for him. you feel ugly and selfish when you traipse back to your room, but you do anyway, stopping only long enough to smell the beautiful bouquet of dark winter roses you pass on the sideboard. they're lovely and sweet, though you can't help noticing no one has bothered to cut the thorns off. careless. you wonder who got them.

---

it's not the only life taking root in the house.

despite the grueling winter, you notice sunshine in the halls, dust motes dancing in the pale light. sconces you've not seen lit in years keep the shadows of night at bay. spices find their way into your meals, a small luxury you've been missing greatly. you can see your governess watching the staff suspiciously, but don't dare ask if she has her theories.

---

there are cigars in the humidor. or maybe they aren't cigars, much thinner than the ones you're used to seeing. you've no idea how they got there, but neither do you know who to ask. who you can trust to believe you, even just long enough to look, see the proof for themselves.

but then, you're not sure you want anyone else to know.

they smell like his. dark and heavy, sickeningly sweet. it makes your stomach turn but you fish out the lighter anyway, throwing the windows open decisively. fresh air pours in around you, chases cobwebs from the corners. the sconses gutter before flaring back to life, leaving the room brighter than it's been in months, cleaner than it' felt in ages.

you hardly notice, too busy fighting the cough that builds in your throat as you take your first drag. you don't manage it, smoke sputtering sputtering from your mouth in fits and starts as you heave your way through a coughing fit, stomach turning with an unexpected wave of nausea. face turned to the cool relief of the window, you've got your cheek leaned up against the side of the pane when the smoke begins to waft away. it takes you a moment to make sense of the image revealed, inverted and near as it is. fear grips you before you even manage it, some fine-tuned instinct recognizing the viper at your feet and turning to run before you're even sure what you've seen.

but this is no viper, and the reaction warranted when faced with the immense silhouette of a man hanging inverted in your window, mere inches from your face, is to go still as a deer in the hunters' sights, evidently, and play the docile little pray.

he turns properly toward you, the shaggy hair dangling around his face catching in the wind. your cigar flares with it, wan light revealing pale skin and dark eyes which seem to glint in amusement when you stumble away, the whole of the picture revealed to you just as long fingers wrap over the top of the casement and pry it open, hinges groaning as they overextend to let his broad shoulders pass. he pours through the sill like butter from the pan, pools on your ceiling with a strong grip on your curtain rod. except, when he drops from it, he sinks from the rafters like a feather, none of the might his huge frame suggested anywhere to be found.

still reeling, your hip catches the edge of your wardrobe and you slip past it, put your back to the wall as quiet cries spill from your lips, pleas incomprehensible.

he greets you by name in a thick russian accent, and somehow, impossibly, you know, but you ask anyway, voice trembling. "who are you?"

a step closer, movements so fluid you can barely discern them. when did the candles go out? "your cleverer than that."

strange compulsion, you can't stop yourself before reciting, "men don't want clever wives."

"is that what you think i want? a wife?" amusement curls around the words, turns his accent lilting.

"i don't know what you want," you whisper, and he grunts - edging closer to irritation.

"and is that what you think i am, then? a man?"

"no…" the truth shocks you, has you casting about for an anchor. you only find confirmation when you catch sight of your vanity, the man in your room leaving no reflection. your cleverer than that. "you were here that night, weren't you? on the bed with me?"

"well, what's a man to do when he returns home to find a pretty young lady in his bed?"

"you're my father." it's not a question. you're not even certain you mean it as a chastisement. it is simple fact, roiling in your stomach like the nausea that lingers.

a fact he ignores, slipping closer and trailing cold digits over the inside of your wrist before taking the slim cigar from between your fingers. you weren't even aware you'd still had it. it glows back to life when he takes a deep drag, smoke spilling from his mouth when he speaks again, "do you like this one better than that other? they're very popular in paris."

you latch onto the wrong part of the question. "is that where you've been?"

"there," he shrugs. "everywhere."

more nausea, sinuses prickling with the added smoke. "anywhere but here?"

he doesn't seem to like this question, either, a stillness overtaking him. "i was… called away."

but if he can be angry, so can you. "for twenty four years?" you snap, voice ragged and sharp as it had been after your first inhale.

his stillness snaps, exasperation turning him away from you. he paces to the window and finally you can see more of his features - the high peaks of his hairline, the heavy brow and the broad nose. he's an older man, you know, and yet - he doesn't really look it, fine lines of his forehead no worse than a man ten, twenty years his younger. his voice is gruff when he speaks again. quiet. "a man can't help being needed -."

"you were needed hear!" you shriek, a reservoir of emotion you didn't know you'd kept dammed breaking free.

when he turns on his heel the candles flare again, and you gasp, shocked to find him suddenly before you, the wool of his overcoat scratchy even through your shift. he waits for you to settle, for your chest to stop heaving against his and your pulse to stop hammering so loud in your ears that you can't hear what he says when his lips move, tongue darting out to wet them. "am i no longer needed, then?" he finally asks, and you wilt against him.

"of course you are," you sob, trying not to notice his own breaths never come.

---

there's no precedent telling you what to call him. his name is improper, but 'father' leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. you plead of him 'my lord!' when his kisses linger too long and he groans, pleased.

you're not sure if you like him when he's pleased.

he frightens you, takes too much. he's a man of appetite as you should have known by the marks he'd left on alice, but you'd foolishly thought yourself untouchable, too gently borne to suffer such indignities. of course, the station of your birth matters little to your own father - if it indeed ever would have mattered to anyone at all.

but it's hard to refuse him when he's your father, and so huge, besides. his broad frame corrals you easily back toward the bed. he doesn't let you sink onto it until his kisses have trailed to the hinge of your jaw, cold nose nuzzling behind your ear. when he does breathe, his chest eclipses your own, tries to turn you concave, carve a space within you. his exhale stinks like his cigar, pressed into the corner of your lip.

it's improper. leaves you teetering between disgust and a guilty sort of pleasure, which only serves to repulse you further. your stomach turns, guilt eating its way up your throat. acrid with smoke.

the hand splayed over the column of your throat tightens minutely, long fingers threatening to pluck the tendons which flex when you gag. he misunderstands. "not supposed to inhale, you know?"

your head spins, the only relief from your mounting sickness found in the the cold relief of his hands against your cheek. "i didn't… i don't..?"

"shh. that's alright. papa will teach you. take this, it will help you feel better."

and your mouth when he does. wide, mimicking. eager for some tincture to help soothe your nerves. a strong dose to put you under, perhaps. he grins when you show him your teeth and a finger finds his own, long claw catching minutely on his lip when he drags the pad of his first two fingers over his canine. you're shocked when it comes away bloody - more so when he coos, eases them into your own mouth to stroke against your tongue. for a moment you're too shocked to respond, but then the heavy taste of blood coats your mouth and you thrash about under him, swatting and biting.

it only seems to encourage him, voice too thick with hunger and approval to be as soothing as he intends it when he tries to gentle you beneath him.

he gives up trying when his blood overflows your mouth, spilling over your cheeks as you continue trying to shake him off. he mutters something about a waste and then his other hand is pinching your nose, cutting off your air supply fully. you gurgle, trying to clear your mouth and he snarls, shoves his fingers deeper.

you're forced to swallow your mouthful when your vision begins to tunnel. he sighs in relief when you do, breath nearly as heavy as yours when you gasp and wheeze. he has the decency to drag his fingers down your chin as you struggle, staining all down your throat as he traces the path of the load you've swallowed.

"not so hard, was it?" he mutters, still painting your skin. you glare at him when you can finally manage it and he just chuckles, forces his fingers behind your bottom teeth again. even still the taste revolts you, tongue crowding to the back of you mouth to try and escape the cold copper, the thick licorice. if he notices, he is undeterred. makes you take even more when he pries your jaw open and spits in your mouth.

the vulgarity makes you heave, but his weight fights even that. keeps you in place when he shoves his fingers back until the webbing nestles against the corner of your mouth and his fingernails scrape against your throat. he feels when it constricts around him reflexively and his free hand smooths the hair back from your sweaty forehead, cold breath against your temple as he tells you to relax, voice fragmenting - somehow both soft, ethereal, and a very real rumble in your ear.

it's that quiet one that gets you, webs its way through your nerves until you're limp with it, energy sapped along with your will to disobey. his fingers pull back minutely, give you enough space to swallow the blood that's gathered at the back of your throat. when they push back in, he bids you suckle them in that same distorted voice and you do. easily, gratefully, and this time, the blood pools in your belly like an antidote. it soothes your nausea, leaves you hungry for more. he doesn't hesitate to provide it, fingers pumping in and out of your mouth as you begin to suckle at them, entreating him to stay nestled in the heat of your mouth each time he starts to pull away.

you're unsure how long he feeds you. long enough you that you feel sated and sleepy when he withdraws entirely. a strand of saliva follows him, snaps back to fall down your chest when he licks his own fingers after, thick tongue wiping clean what mess remains. his skin comes back whole and healed, a prospect that should surely frighten you, but there is no fear when you grow bold, pull him closer by a strong grip on the long strands of hair at his nape. his tongue is slick when it slides against yours, chasing the taste of himself. he follows it down your chin, panting against the column of your neck as his hands work up your chest, the pressure of them on your waist having been having gone unnoticed through your corset. his nails scrape your skin when he catches the hem of your dressing gown and finally, some base instinct flares back to life, tries to stay his hands with your own, fingers scrabbling against his. he just hushes you again, voice echoing softly between your ears. this time, when your fingers wrap around his wrists, it is simply an anchor for you, body feeling as though you may simply drift away under his care.

when his mouth finds your breast, you arch into him, bucking hard enough that he groans, lays his body flat over you to keep you in place as he feasts. even his weight is decadent, a relief from the way you feel untethered. he pinches your nipple between too-sharp teeth, soaks the fabric of your shift in saliva just to soothe you after. his mouth offers no heat, no balm for the frigid breaths he ghosts over the wet material. you beg for it anyway, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close. an instinct that will do you no good here, the man at your breast inhuman and cold.

it's a fact you can't escape from, not with his cold blood in your belly and his will in your head. not with his lupine teeth spreading wide over your heart, or the ecstatic relief when he finally bites down. your breath steams in the air as you pant beneath him, chest heaving into his mouth even as you try pulling him impossibly closer, and here, finally, is the heat - the bloom of blood that soaks your shift and warms your skin, even as you grow colder with the loss of it. he's insatiable, a man of appetite as you knew, and yet you give yourself freely, even as your breath grows stilted and shallow and your fingers twitch in his hair. he only surfaces when your vision grows cloudy, looms above you in a grisly mask of death turned two-tone with the moonlight and your fading vision. jaw stained dark, it appears an endless maw from which he speaks, demands to know if you'll join him in eternity.

and what girl could ever live without her papa?

dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/adornedwithlight

#incest cw #papochka #🗡️ anon

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passionwillow · 3 days ago

Note

Reader secretly takes up their SOs hobby and SO finds them (making a gift possibly?) and absolutely loves it wanting to show appreciation 😉 (had Gibbs in mind but can be anyone you find fit)

THIS IS ADORABLE UGH ♥️

Warnings: fluff and smut, age gap!

You’d always been fascinated by Gibbs boat. The way he did everything by hand, the skill it took as he was carving and molding the pieces. You couldn’t count how many hours you’d sat there with him, watching him work and chatting about cases he was working on.

It wasn’t until a few years into your relationship with him you considered trying it out yourself. His birthday was coming up, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect it would be to make a little model of a boat.

Only problem was, you had no clue where to start.

That’s when you went to DiNozzo. You’d visited enough over the years that they practically considered you part of the team. And any who kept Gibbs in a good mood was a friend to them.

Tony helped you find books, tools, anything you needed for your little surprise. He even offered up his apartment to make it, but with the hours Gibbs worked compared to your job, you’d have time.

So you went to town on it. While Gibbs was still at work and you had a few hours at home alone, you whittled away at the piece of wood. Your hands were quickly becoming sore, little splinters embedded in your fingers, and you smelled just like Gibbs now, like wood shavings.

So far, he hasn’t suspected anything. You hid your tools and the slowly developing hunk of wood, fleshing out the image of it day by day. It helped that you wore his hoodies so much, so he wouldn’t be surprised if you smelled of shavings.

The day before his birthday, you were adding the finishing touches. You figured you had plenty of time, Gibbs shouldn’t be home for another hour and it was just some fine detailing you wanted to add.

Except Gibbs had gotten off early, and wanted to surprise you with take out. Tony had tried texting you, calling you, but your phone was on silent somewhere upstairs. You didn’t hear Gibbs calling out for you, didn’t hear him enter the basement, didn’t notice him come up behind you and watch in surprise as you worked on this little boat.

You were wearing his USMC hoodie and gray sweats, your hair piled into a bun on your head, and you were totally caught up in your project. It wasn’t until Gibbs laid a hand on your back you jumped, turning in the chair and freezing when you saw your boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly. He was surprised and amused, his lips slowly moving into a smile as he took in your shocked expression.

“I uhm.. I didn’t- think you’d be home.”

He hummed and stepped closer, a hand on the back of your chair and the other on his workbench, studying the little figure. “That didn’t answer the question,” he teased. You blushed and looked down at the table, biting your lip.

“Tony helped me learn how to-.. Y’know. Wood carving. I wanted to make it for you for your birthday. Surprise you.”

“You learned how to do all this for me? For my birthday?” his voice was soft and amused, his eyes taking in your reaction as you slowly nodded, cheeks hot and lip caught between your teeth.

He broke into a grin and cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your soft skin briefly before he took the boat, his large hands dwarfing it as he slowly turned it around, admiring the detail you’d spent hours carving out.

“Sweetheart, this.. it’s beautiful. You really did this for me?” he asked. He sounded almost surprised. Your eager nod and growing smile had him chuckling, but he was so caught up in that little figure. You’d done this for him. Picked up his hobby, his interest, learned it for him. It was the kindest thing.

He gently set it down and took your hand, guiding you to stand and wrapping his arms around your middle. You happily hugged around his neck, body pressed to his as he gently kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, voice almost inaudible. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” you said with a soft laugh, playing with the strands of his silver hair. “It took me awhile.”

He grinned and leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. He always tasted of coffee, it was one of your favorite things about. His hands slid up over your back, drawing you in closer as your mouth opened up to his, happy to let his tongue explore your mouth.

The kiss turned heated within minutes, his hands moving to your hips and easily lifting you, setting you on the bench and taking his place between your legs. Your knees locked on to his hips as you broke the kiss, lifting your arms for him as he removed his hoodie, a giant growl rumbling in his throat as he saw you were completely bare underneath.

“You’re a tease,” he mumbled. You simply grinned and grabbed him by his coat, tugging him back in and pressing your lips back to his. You could feel his smile as he kissed back, the rustling of fabric hinting that he was undressing as well.

He took you right there on the workbench, the smell of sawdust filling your nose as clothing tumbled to the floor, your moans and grunts mixing with Gibbs as he thrust hard and slow. His mouth attached to your neck and marked you religiously, fingers sure to leave bruises on your hips.

#ncis x reader #ncis #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #gibbs

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searchforahero · 3 days ago

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uh hi i was planning on posting a timjay fic for christmas but uh. that obviously didn't happen, and i have no idea if i'm ever going to finish it now, but it'd be a shame to let it rot in my notes, so. here is my partially finished timjay christmas fic :]

Christmas time always makes Jason astutely aware of just how alone he is. He’s seen the creepy spy camera footage of the Wayne holiday party. Not the one hosted by Brucie Wayne, but the real one, where Dick and Bruce try their damndest to make nice for Damian’s sake, and everyone pulls the Christmas crackers and gets overly excited for the shitty prizes contained within.

They’re always an intimate affair, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Damian, and sometimes Tim. Jason feels his own absence deeply when he sees them, but he doubts they do. He won’t ask Bruce if he gets an invite, and he won’t admit it’s because he’s scared to hear the answer. The entire point is moot anyways, considering that even after all of these years he’s been playing nice with the Bats, and he still refuses to set foot in the manor.

He’s sitting on a high rooftop at the edge of Burnley and Newtown on Christmas Eve, watching shoppers and retail employees stumble home while the night shift and partiers take up their place. The city is bustling at this time of night, with street lights flickering and car horns honking. He can almost pretend he’s part of something, even from all the way up above it all.

Just as he’s trying to gear up to start patrol in earnest, a shadow goes flying by two buildings across from him. He watches the figure with mild interest, until it comes into the light and he can make it out to be Red Robin.

Jason wonders what he’s doing out here, sure, crime doesn’t stop for anyone’s birthday, even if that birthday belongs to Jesus himself, but It’s usually on a lesser scale around this time. Typically they can get away with having Jason keep an eye on the city with the help of a police scanner and have everyone else available for backup.

Jason watches as Tim gets closer and closer on each swing, until he lands next to him with a flourish that is found in everyone who has ever held the Robin mantle. Jason shifts slightly so he’s angled towards Tim and asks “What are you doing here Birdy?”

Tim plops down next to him with a big huff, from here Jason can see Tim’s face better. The domino only covers his eyes, and with them hidden he looks younger than he is. It’d drive Tim crazy if he said something about it, if he pointed out how even after all these years protecting the streets, the people probably still think he’s a high schooler, but to do that he’d have to admit he was staring, so he keeps quiet.

“The party was too…” Tim makes a nonsensical gesture with his hand, waving it back and forth and twisting a bit at the wrist “y'know?”

“There are so many” Jason replicates Tim’s motion “that you could be talking about that I honestly have no clue man.” This elicits a chuckle from Tim and seeing him smile, even so minutely, makes Jason realize that he’s quite sure Tim hasn’t done so at all since he landed.

Soon TIm’s shoulders fall once more and he looks down at his boots, one is bouncing along with his knee. He opens his mouth without saying anything a couple of times, little starts and stops of a sentence, until he settles on a simple “It’s been five years since my dad died.” He pauses for a good little while again, fiddling with the seams on his gloves until they’re perfectly aligned. “Christmas and Bruce and just… All of it makes me think about him on a good day, it got to be too much and I… Left.”

Jason takes that in slowly, he can’t say he hasn’t been feeling the same. He knows that Tim holds guilt over his fathers death. Jason can’t quite understand how that feels, except for in the way that everyone who has ever been left alive feels guilty that someone they loved did not. Regardless, he knows it must weigh something horrible on the other man.

What a pair they make. Waiting for Christmas together and yet not. Both alone by a self imposed prison of grief, while the people they love sit happily in front of the glow of the fireplace.

At least the person Tim is mourning is actually dead.

Jason realizes he’s been sitting there a bit too long without saying something so he shuffles a little so he can knock shoulders with Tim.

“I miss my Mom, Catharine that is. Especially around Christmas time. She loved Christmas.”

Tim twists so he can look at him, and the expressive way his lenses widen to stare at him has to be a security risk. “My Dad loved Christmas too. At least in the last few years. He, and I, and Dana would drive out to see the lights every year. Dana hated turkey, said it was always dry and tasteless, but Dad was determined to get her to like it, so we’d all crowd into the kitchen and try to make an actually good turkey. I don’t think Dad liked turkey that much either to be honest.”

Jason’s pretty sure Tim hardly breathed for that whole story. Jason and Tim are friendly to be sure, but Tim rarely if ever speaks up for much more than witty one liners, challenges to air hockey, Mario Kart, or rooftop racing, and mission briefs when it’s him and Jason.

Jason knows Tim has it in him to be chatty. He’s seen him talk Superboy’s ear off about skateboarding and he’s crashed at Dick’s apartment enough times to be used to finding Tim sitting at the kitchen island prattling on about his Wizards & Warlocks games, but that doesn’t usually extend to him.

Even just that short little story, especially about something so personal, feels foreign to Jason. He’d long since given up on anything more than a working friendship with Tim, especially after the less than warm reception Tim gave him when Bruce took him on as Wingman. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, Tim is clearly lonely and hurting, but he can’t help it.

“Mom and I would rent skates for the evening for the frozen trails in Robinson Park. Have you ever been? They’re so pretty at night.”

When Jason chances a glance over at Tim he finds him smiling at him. He can’t see his eyes but his lips are quirked up minutely at the corners. Jason’s glad he made the right choice there, he didn’t know Tim well enough to say if ‘bond over dead parents’ was an acceptable conversation direction.

“I’ve never been no. I hardly knew how to skate until Bruce taught me.” Tim drums his fingers on the ledge before he adds “Do you want to go? It probably won’t be too busy with how cold it is tonight. You do have skates in your uniform don’t you?”

Jason startles a little, he kind of figured Tim would be on his way soon. He’d either work through his Bruce issues and head back to the manor, or he’d call Superboy and hang out with Young Justice. But he seems pretty settled on hanging with Jason for some reason.

“Uh, sure yeah. I do. We can do that.” Jason’s always thought it would be more practical to have high tech no-slip boot soles instead of extendable skates in their uniforms. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to axe the design after years of twirling around Mr. Freeze on skates as a child. Stupid Bruce.

the plan from here was that they were going to go skating and then tim would invite jason to spend christmas with him and dana and they'd cook a turkey together <3 but. alas.

#jason todd #tim drake #timjay #jaytim #kel's bat problem #kel writes fanfiction #dc #batman

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