#and that god would completely heal me

[starscream-is-my-wife]

A bit of my AU where Megatron is second in command, Ratchet and the matrix are pretty connected, I think he should be Prime (he doesn’t want to be lol)

[ribbitflings]

oh i posted this shit on my socials to target at the people and it literally says that music triggers seizures. my mother that im nc with fucking sends me a music video. and the last time i had posted something about epilepsy, she responded to it with something so fucking stupid that i actually almost blocked her

i made this infographic covering several topics that are important for me and targeted at some people i know, but feel free to use it

[elliee3e]

‘pretty when you cry’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘old’ logan howlett x crybaby f! reader

‘don’t say you need me if, you live last, you're leaving —

i can't do it, but you do it best

‘cause i’m pretty when i cry’ — pretty when you cry - lana del rey

content warnings ;

light ddlg if you squint, piv, size difference, age gap/younger & smaller reader implied, corruption kink, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation

old man logan, who both loves and hates having his sweet girl crumble in his arms.

by now, he feels like the only thing he��s good for is ruining. killing. tainting. that’s what he did with you, tainted your damn innocence. and now he hates how big he is compared to you, hates how he always feels like he has to hold back in fear of hurting you, hates how he tries to be gentle with you because you always end up crying in his arms no matter what.

he could be between your spread thighs, scruff brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue works against your heated core, sucking onto your clit whilst you completely crumble — thighs squeezing and trembling around his head, sniffles, whimpers and broken moans leaving your parted lips, tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you pant, the sight making logan pull away as he looks up at you from his glasses, that by now had slipped to the bridge of his nose that you always so badly wanted to kiss.

“baby, baby— hey, look at me darlin’..” he would croon, your sweet taste still clinging onto his tongue as he shifted up to grab your face, watching your pretty glazed eyes full of tears for him: looking up at him. “l-lo..” you would sniffle, voice no more than a broken whimper and it tugged at his heart.

“did i do something wrong? was it too much?” his gruff voice, laced with worry — asked. and god, yes, it was too much: but in the best way possible. you just didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t help the tears that would take over you when something felt too good.

“n-nothing wrong, lo— just.. just a lot..” you would huff, stomach fluttering as logan would sigh at your words: bringing up a rough thumb to swipe your salty tears away: the other gently tugging your panties back up. “damn it, darlin’. givin’ me a damn heart attack everytime you sob like that, makes me feel like i hurt ya.”

“c’mon. let’s just lay together for a while. probably be better for ya, sweet thing.”

old man logan, who, after a while, would begin to understand that his girl just couldn’t help her pretty tears and sobs. it was a part of her that only he got to see after all, and that’s what made it special.

he began to love having that power over you. loved having the ability to be fucking into you, pretty legs wrapped around his hips perfectly, nails scratching along his shoulders and back where you could reach, your desperate moans mingled with choked sobs ricocheting off the apartment walls — your nails leaving cat like scratches that started to heal in a short while as they weren’t deep wounds — but they still made him groan. one of his hands, the one not on your waist to keep a steady grip on you, moving up to grab your small wrist to stop you; his hand wrapping around it no problem. “easy, baby. i’m tryna be gentle here, but you’re really pushin’ it.” he would grunt, bringing your wrist down up next to your head, easily using that for leverage to keep on his slow and deep pace into you.

“gosh, darlin’, don’t go cryin’ for me right now..” he would groan, watching as you sobbed even more, trying to slow his pace more than it already was to scoop you up into his arms, keeping your smaller body cradled in them as he soothed your sobs with gentle ‘shh’s’ — hips still fucking into yours at a steady pace, just enough to have you trembling under him and for your cries to choke up in your throat with pretty moans, a familiar heat starting to build up in your lower tummy as it made your walls flutter around his thick cock. “uh— mmph, gonna.. gonna cum, lo—“ you would whimper, small hands squirming under his bigger ones, his grip only getting tighter on your soft wrists.

“that right? my baby’s gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock like the sweet girl she is?” logan would grunt, using the best of his force to fuck into you just enough to find your little gummy spot, the one that sent shivers through your small body and made you let out a sob that broke off into a moan as you felt your orgasm quickly take over — hips trembling under his, sweet pussy squeezing around his cock as much as it could as your juices leaked onto him.

“fuck, doll.” he would huff, glancing down and pulling out just enough to see your pretty pussy — flushed and dripping for him, your sniffled cries filling the room once more as you tried to recover.

“gonna be a good girl and finish me off now too?”

[maybefae]

Messages From Your Forever Person

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Just a note!: I don’t like doing general love readings because I don’t feel like they are as personal as, well, personal love readings, but I had the urge to make one. Your forever person can be what you consider your significant other, long-term partner, or future spouse.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: King of Pentacles, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles, Black Numen, Six of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Ace of Swords, The Star, Ten of Cups (Bottom of the Deck:

Oracle: Uplift, Forgiveness, Consistency

You know how the planet Jupiter is the defender of our solar system? How Jupiter pulls asteroids away from Earth and even take the hits itself? That’s the energy of this person. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got the feeling of comfort from a strong and stable energy. I must say, this person also has a comforting smile and as soon as you look at them, your nerves will instantly be soothed. They feel like they are standing beside me, hands in pockets, as they watch me write this. They could have a favorite cream cable knit sweater that they like to wear as soon as there’s a chill in the air. 

They are very patient and have the mentality of “it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be done”. You could suffer from anxiety, but I feel this panicked and shaky energy coming from you. I don’t know if you used to be yelled at or punished for doing something wrong by a parent or partner, but it feels like you are terrified of doing anything around your forever person at first. And there are cards here that are telling me that you have been hurt in the past. It seems like this could be the first safe and healthy partner you’ve had. This could just be the first partner you’ve ever had and now you're 20/25+ years old and you don’t know what you’re doing, which brings out this anxiety towards this relationship. But your partner here holds a lot of patience and comfort for you! They really love you. Honestly, this is really fucking close to unconditional love (which is rare). They hold no judgement towards how you operate now because of your past, absolutely not. And they want you to know that. It’s like they have told you this but you continuously don’t believe them, which does hurt them a little ngl. The Jupiter reference could be what this was for. They will take the small hurts you do but persistently and consistently show up until you believe in their love for you. And it’s not that you don’t know, but there is a voice in your head that makes you doubt often even if there isn’t proof of those thoughts. 

God, pile 1, they love you. They are such a steady energy. They are also very stable in the physical and spiritual realms. They are a very hard worker and would do anything to help your dreams become a reality. Your dreams are their dreams and vice versa. They really just want a peaceful home life with you honestly; they like the simple things. I think a good personality reference would be the husband to the pregnant wife in Kiki’s Delivery Service. 

They really want me to drive home the message of forgiving yourself, pile 1. Sure, your actions or thoughts do hurt them sometimes, but they don’t really want that to be the focus. They want you to be aware that they do but in a way to help you heal. They aren’t your past partner, they aren’t going to react like your parent, they aren’t playing you just because you haven’t had a partner. It’s heartbreaking that you would dare to even compare them to others. Maybe this person hides a lot of their hurt not to upset you and this is a hurdle that they have to work through. It’s only really coming out towards the end so that’s why I want to say that. 

I think this message was to let you know how the beginning part of your relationship will be like. They just want to make you aware of it, maybe so you can comfort the insecurities you have so the beginning won’t be as difficult.

|Pile 2

Tarot: Ten of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Six of Swords, The Hierophant, Three of Pentacles, King of Cups, Three of Cups, The Sun, King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, The High Priestess, The Moon

Oracle: The Moon (again!), Wept Breath, The Chariot, Vulnerability, Divinity, Sacred

Before I pulled the cards, I heard six months to a year or eight weeks. I don’t like to do timing but that’s what I heard. So if that feels right to you, then take it. Or somewhere between a waning crescent and a waning gibbous moon.

Honestly, they are just happy to be here. I think they were ready to give up on love after so many failed attempts and heartbreak before you came along. And you honestly could’ve sworn off love too but you saw them and was like “I want that one.” This is the black cat, golden retriever pile. Raven and Beast Boy, Maleficent and Diaval, or Roger Rabbit and Jessica Rabbit. 

The vulnerability oracle strongly comes from your side. It does come from theirs but they admit that they were practically enchanted by you. “The idea of giving up on love was a stupid idea on their part, sorry your highness, that was my bad.” They just folded and they would happily fall under any love spell you send their way. They are obsessed with you, in the most healthy way possible. They are banging the table with their fist, credit card in hand. There’s an energy that you were in the same room with them and kept your eye on them because you were drawn to how “pathetic” they were. You couldn’t help yourself so you gave in. There’s also an energy of “of course, you’re the fated one to be with me.” You two end up talking and you could kinda bust their balls a little, tease and be a little sassy, but they keep up with you and “pass your little test.” 

I don’t think they were necessarily a player in the past but they had quite a few lovers and most of them played your person. They could have the vibe of one just from how cheeky and flirty they are but those thoughts are soon squashed with you seeing how pathetically devoted they are to you. They are just a lover at their core, they like to keep things light and fun, but they also know how to be serious and fix any issue that comes up in the relationship. They would truly do anything for you. This could come from an insecurity of not getting the love they needed from their past partners so they are overcompensating to keep you in love with them. :( 

Are these the older daughters/siblings that I usually get? There could be something here that they have a pretty put-together family and you’re the first partner that the family actually loves. You could honestly get the love and care that you missed out on with their family. 

God, I keep seeing your partner looking at you with the biggest heart eyes and they do this all the time, which could make you so flustered. This could be one of the things about them that honestly gets you to melt a little and lower some walls you have up. This feels like a love that you probably didn’t get to experience in your teen years but this will span on until you're old and wrinkly. They will carry the “honeymoon phase” through the rest of your lives. You know those videos that people make of their parents being in love and fooling around? That’s you two! 

There’s just an overall feeling of excitement coming from them. They could talk about you a lot to their friends and family, but not in a bragging way. They are just so happy with you and thinks you’re the most beautiful person they have ever seen. I heard “A wish I didn’t know I was wishing for.”

|Pile 3

Tarot: Two of Cups, King of Swords, The Hermit, The Fool, ? Dreamworld (reconnection), Six of Wands, Two of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Five of Cups, The Chariot (rest, feeling at home)

Oracle: Serenity, Sincerity, Respite, Surrender

If this resonates, this could be a lover you had that had passed away.

For others, this pile is for the ones who believe in lifetimes before the one you’re currently living. Energy is recycled after all. This is the more mystical pile. 

Your person here has a large energy and could come off as cold and intimidating. They have come to me wearing all black, leather boots, and darker hair. They have very muscular arms and a broad chest, very tall. They could be goth. This could’ve been them in the past life or that is how they show up in this lifetime. They have their head down as they stand beside me and there is an energy of wanting you to know they are here. Their soul does watch over you and guide you but they may stay quiet and don’t give you many signs or messages that they are around. But I suppose they came through today to say hi! 

They are very protective over you and they think you’re a ray of sunshine that graces their life. They aren’t one to show many emotions nor really speak them out, but you accept this and know that you are deeply loved. They know you doubt that they even exist or if they are coming or if they love you and so they are very hesitantly showing up through this reading to say that “I’m on my way” and “just sit tight.” They could have a deeper voice. They could give you reassurance if you ask for it, by the way! They want me to specify that so they don’t come across as heartless. I think you’re the only one that they truly love with their whole being and they do make it known, but if you need a little verbal reassurance, all you gotta do is ask. They are a cat person.

There is something here that you may have lived in timelines where they never got to exist in, like it has been a long while since you two have been together. I heard, “I waited for the right time.” There could’ve been timelines where your lives probably wouldn’t have worked together or it was going to end in tragedy “like the one I met you in.” So they had to wait. And they watched over you through each timeline. Everytime you didn’t get to live a happy lifetime or if your partner of any lifetime didn’t treat you right, it would make your person terribly upset and they couldn’t do anything about it. They are very upset while they show this to me, angry and frustrated. But this lifetime is the one where you two will finally be together. 

You could feel like you are meant to be someone, like a little void spot where your soul is…and you could be waiting out until you meet this person. You actually could’ve done this for the past three lifetimes (which you probably lived more happily than others). And this could’ve been a lifetime where you planned to do the same thing, but your person is coming in. You will be suspicious but you will probably be very enamoured by them. They are different than others and stand out to you. I think they like to rub your back because I just got the feeling of someone doing that to me. They let you be your bubbly and lively self and actually love that about you. They have complete trust in you. They may be on the more quiet/shy side but you two work together perfectly. You two can rest easy in this lifetime. 

Dividers: @inklore

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Hello! Can I request the lads boys with a reader that’s typically super composed losing their composure? It could be something serious or super small, they just hit their breaking point.

Okay, this might be longer than I intended it to be but les go

Zayne

Zayne flinches slightly when you slam the door shut as you enter.

“Hello, dear”

“I can’t fucking believe it”

Zayne raises his eyebrow. He has never, and he can swear that he never, ever heard a swear word coming from your mouth, nor has he ever seen you this angry.

“Don’t these people look where they’re going at all? Look at my shoes, they were white when I left home this morning. At least three people have stepped on me. What the fuck?”

Maybe Zayne should thank god that you don’t notice how he sneaks a glance at the calendar and once he makes sure it is nowhere near your period he stands up and approaches you, however, you interrupt whatever he is going to say while you’re pacing back and forth.

“Then I was late to work, and to make matters worse I got stuck in the elevator. I was there for at least half an hour. And when I finally meet Jenna, because that’s why I was there actually since it’s my day off, I found out that I can’t go to any mission for at least three days, because a certain doctor doesn’t recommend it”

Zayne’s eyes widen at her last sentence. No, he’s not scared of you, generally. But he’s also never seen you like this. The thing is, you and Zayne are on the same wavelength. Both of you are calm and composed, even during arguments, which are rare, none of you raise your voice. Now he’s standing here watching you pace around in his office and shouting curses because you had a bad day, part of which is apparently his fault and… he fears for his life.

Only when he sees angry tears does he come out of the trance and grab your hand pulling you to him. He cups your face and you look up at him with a frown.

“Okay, take a deep breath with me” he inhales deeply and you copy him. He does it a couple of times before seeing you slightly relax “Good. Now, listen to me. I understand you had a bad day and I’m sorry that you can’t go on missions for a few days, but you had an injury a week ago”

You open your mouth to speak but he shushes you with his finger on your lips.

“Shh, let me. I know it’s healed, but you were on bed rest and even if you feel like it, you’re not completely fine. Let’s give it a few days, hm? Trust me, I’m not doing this just because.”

You stay silent and Zayne sighs.

“I’ll be off in an hour. How about you wait for me? Then we can go home and have hot chocolate while watching the show you’ve been begging me to watch together for weeks.”

“I wasn’t begging…” you mumble as you look down.

“What was that?”

“Okay”

“Okay,” Zayne kisses your forehead before you get comfortable in the armchair in the corner of his office.

Rafayel

‘Well, she needs a fucking exorcism’ is his first thought as he sees you stomping in his studio. Apparently, your cat is lost, and Rafayel might or might not have something to do with it. In his defense, it wasn’t on purpose. How could he have known that if he’d leave his door open that little devil would run away?

“I knew I shouldn’t have left him with you, I’m so stupid- actually no, you’re so stupid. How the hell did you lose him?”

“I told you, I left the door-”

“I know what you told me, it was rhetorical- god is your brain of a fish too?”

“Wow, that’s mean”

Rafayel pouts slightly and he would become dramatic in a moment if it wasn’t you being dramatic right now and you weren’t even doing it on purpose. Oh no, Rafayel has never seen you this furious, nearly having a mental breakdown and his brain short circuits.

“He must be so scared and hungry and… lost” You sniffle and Rafayel realises you’re crying.

“Hey, hey, look. We’ll find him okay? Thomas is out there searching for him. I’m so sorry I lost him but we’ll get him back, I promise”

“How? You don’t even-”

“Look who I found”

Thomas enters the studio with an orange cat in his arms. You run to him immediately and Rafayel sighs in relief. He thinks you would actually kill him if Thomas couldn’t find the cat.

“I owe you my life” he whispers to Thomas.

Rafayel approaches you, eyeing the cat in disdain.

“I’m never leaving you with him,” you say to your cat.

“Oh- oh no. Please don’t take him away from me”

You laugh at his sarcastic answer.

“I’m sorry I called you stupid”

If Rafayel couldn’t act dramatic before, now was the perfect time.

“Yeah, you should be. That was really mean, you know? Your words pierced through my heart like a dagger-”

You cut him off with a kiss

“Does this make up for it?”

“What was I talking about?”

You laugh.

Xavier

Xavier has never in his life regretted anything like he regrets letting you play on his gaming console. Who would know that as much as you are calm and collected, there is a rage in you that only the videogame can take out on the surface. Maybe not. Xavier knows you've been stressed lately and maybe you're taking everything on your teammates in some stupid videogame. Either way, it doesn't look good.

“Are you serious? You are a support for fuck’s sake, why are you taking my kills? I’m the adc here. I’m playing with degenerates”

You’ve been shouting at the screen for so long that Xavier becomes tired. He tries to tune you out, he really does, but there’s only so much he can take. He gets up from the bed and unplugs the gaming console. You look at him like he just stabbed you in the back.

“Wh-what- why? Oh my god, I’m gonna get banned for being afk”

“It’s my account, I’m gonna get banned and I don’t care. This game is driving you crazy… and me”

“But-”

“No,” he says it like, you’re a kid “Come to bed, I wanna take a nap”

“I’m not sleepy,” You say while yawning and Xavier chuckles slightly.

“Okay, come on”

You take his hand and drop to bed, taking him with you.

“I bought a new hero, by the way”

“YOU SPENT MY GOLD?”

“Shh, let’s sleep”

You shush him quickly as he grumbles something under his breath. Whatever, it's a much healthier coping mechanism anyway.

Sylus

Sylus didn’t expect to see you bawling your eyes out when he entered his bedroom. To say, he is surprised, would be an understatement. The most out of control he has seen you is when you… well, when you wanted to kill him, to be honest. Even then, he pulled the trigger on himself. So seeing you in his room, sobbing in his bed is something new and terrifying. In a second he is beside you, gathering you in his arms while you sob into his chest.

“Sweetie, tell me what’s the matter. You know I can make it disappear, whatever it is… or whoever it is.”

You don’t answer, couldn’t answer. But you try to get ahold of yourself.

“He-” and a sob escaped your lips again.

Sylus stayed silent to give you time to gather your words as he planned the most painful ways to murder whoever ‘he’ was, in his mind.

“He loved her and he didn’t tell her, because-” you sniffle as Sylus gets more and more confused “because he thought she would never look at him”

You grab the book beside you and suddenly everything makes sense. You’re crying because of a book. Sylus almost laughed, but he stopped himself from making a grave mistake.

“But she loved him too and now she’s married but they both still love each other. And she named her son after him”

Sylus understands half of it as he wipes your tears.

“What do I do with you, kitten, hm?”

“What?”

He laughs before kissing your cheek

“I’ll get the bath ready and tell me about the book while we relax, okay?”

“Okay”

“And maybe next time, don’t give me a heart attack”

You frown.

“It’s really sad. Doesn’t it affect you at all?”

“Fictional tragic love? Not my cup of tea. But coming home and seeing you having a mental breakdown over a book affects me… a lot, may I add”

You laugh sheepishly

“Sorry”

He kisses you, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Caleb

Caleb has known you since childhood and has seen every side of you… or so he thought. He can swear he has never seen you so angry and to make matters worse, you’re angry at him. Now he regrets every life choice he has ever made.

“Okay pipsqueak, calm down-”

Another apple comes flying to his face and he barely avoids it.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you asshole. Am I your prisoner now? You locked me in your house while you were god knows where and even had the nerve to not answer my calls. I swear-”

You try to throw another apple at him but he grabs it before you can.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry but I wasn’t near my phone, what was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not lock me into the house?” You exclaim.

“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re mad”

There is a moment of silence before you lunge at him.

“Fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that- Ow!” He rambles as you hit his chest repeatedly. He steps back and trips over something. Next thing he knows, he’s on the floor and you’re on top of him, straddling his waist. You are breathing heavily as you blow loose strands of your hair from your face.

“There’s something wrong with you”

You say calmly and he stays silent.

“Why would you-”

“You tried to leave”

He says suddenly.

“What?”

“How would you know you were locked in if you didn’t try to leave?”

You look at him dumbfounded and almost started pounding on his chest again.

“I didn’t know what to expect when you’d wake up and I had to go to work. I didn’t want to come home and find you gone so I did what I could think of… And I really wasn’t near my phone when you were calling me, I swear.”

“you are so stupid”

You mumble as you get up. He follows you and dusts himself off.

“I wanted to get some air, take a walk but no my boyfriend is a paranoid freak”

“I’m your boyfriend?”

He grins suddenly. You watch him for a minute before letting out a scoff

“An idiot is what you are”

[dorothylarouge]

US Presidents as Dril Tweets

George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it

John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.

Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts

James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"

John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit

Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!

Martin Van Buren: Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Candles $3,600

Utility $150

someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying

William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good

John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this

James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom

Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying

Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...

Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin

James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...

Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"

Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,

James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now

Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark

Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site

Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc

William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!

Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*

Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer

Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me

Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals

Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud

Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me

Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume

Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed

John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"

Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups

Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right

Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again

Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT

Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,

George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,

Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line

Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.

ME: I agree

Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but�� we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[sirxlla]

Okay I have a request if you could do it, btw I love your bat bros writings

What about how would batboys be if the reader was a tailor?

You're Their Seamstress/Tailor (Batboys)

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

Dick: You had bent over, and since Dick was feeling cheeky (pun intended), he swatted your ass.

"I will choke the life out of you with my tailor tape, Grayson." You smacked his arm with a laugh and a smile.

"Hey, you do it to me all the time and it's not my fault you tailor your pants so well to your body."

You roll your eyes before measuring his hips, having to slightly press your face to his stomach.

"Hey there, do I gotta pay extra or does that come included in my fitting?" He remarks, being a smartass as per usual.

You finished up measuring him and started working on his suit, at some point while watching tv he passed out on your couch. You grabbed a blanket and covered him up before returning to your work tailoring his suit. He had a gala to go to and navy really brought out his blue eyes especially when paired with a baby blue tie. The color combination was so simple but it always made him look so handsome.

"God- Fuckin- Shit! Fuck me!" He had slept for a few hours but woke suddenly when he heard you cuss.

"You okay?" He asked with concern as he pushed the blanket off him and got to his feet before quickly making his way over to you.

"Yeah, I- I'm okay, I just sliced my finger open with the scissors." You got up and rushed over to the sink and let the cold water run over it. Dick was quick to grab the first aid kit to bandage your finger.

"It's alright fingers tend to bleed a lot." He said as he noticed the worry and pain on your face. Dick opened the triple antibiotic that has pain relief, thankfully. He dried your finger, put the antibiotic on it and then the little Spongebob bandaids youd picked out which made you smile. You had always thought it was worth the extra couple cents to get themed bandaids cause they gave a smidge of dopamine as well as protection for your finger. Having Star Wars, Hello Kitty or Spongebob bandaids did a lot to help you and others feel a little bit better after an accident.

Dick kissed your finger over the bandaid as he looked into your eyes. "My- My mom always said if you kiss it, it'll heal quicker. I know it's bullshit but little things like that help a lot when accidents happen." Remembering how his mom would kiss his boo boos when he was a kid, he didnt talk about her much so when he brought her up it was heart-warming to know he trusted you with that.

"Thats why I get the themed bandaids! Its the little trivial things that mean a lot." You smiled as you were so glad he had the a smiliar outlook as you.

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

Jason: It was very unsurprising when it came to how rough Jason was on everything from his guns to his jacket, to his boots so it was almost weekly that you were fixing something of his.

"Jay, how do you even tear this area?" You said as you held up the jacket that had definitely seen better days, a massive hole in the upper bicep.

"Easy, I've been working out." Jason says being a complete smartass, which you suppose is a good thing, considering if he wasn't, you would know there was something wrong with him.

"Hardy Har Har." Giving him an annoyed smirk flipping him off before grabbing your needle and thread. Unfortunately, a lot of the things that Jason needed patched up had to be hand-sewn, and so you painstakingly spent hours fixing any little holes he had.

"Angel, you know that's not nice." He laughs as he quickly quips back at you, sitting in the desk chair next to you, spinning around.

"I know, that's why I said it." You grabbed his chair and stopped him from spinning. "With the damage being the way it is, I'm most likely going to have to hold on to this for a couple of days, but I did work on something for you."

You put the jacket down so you could get back to it later and got up from your seat. Expecting him to get up and follow, but of course, him being him, he decided that it was a good idea to roll the desk chair across the floor behind you. You rolled your eyes and opened the cabinet to a fairly badass and upgraded suit.

"I worked with Lucius to improve a few things; the fibers are thicker but still breathable and light. Kneepads, chest plate, bracers and the helmet is the same design as before, but we added a better filtration system and a heads-up display on the helmet so you can track blood and run an analysis of whatever you need. The cargo pants are more tear resistant, the jackets new material but the old design." You ran him through all the little bits and pieces of the upgrades, and he almost looked in shock.

"You just did this? Like I didn't even need to ask you, you just did... I have been wondering about a new suit." The smirk that always seemed to lace his tone seemed to slip, now laced with appreciation. "How do you know I needed all this stuff?"

"Well, I talked with Bruce and Barbara on exactly what you needed technology wise and then I spoke to Lucius about the way you fight and things that are tearing and such. Considering he's done so much work with Bruce I figured he would know best and we got it figured out. If you end up not liking something let me know and we'll tweak it as needed."

"Holy shit, this is just..." He stands up from the desk chair and pushes it away from him a little bit. The wheels roll against the tile of the floor as he gazes at his new suit. "No, Angel. I have a feeling this is gonna be amazing." He grabs youand gives you a big hug, In this moment he felt so cared for and so appreciated as he squeezed you a little. "You're a goddamn genius, Angel."

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

Bruce: You worked with Lucius on Bruce's suit, working with him on design and functionality. You and Bruce were arguing, the two materials he wanted to pair would make his suit heavy in the rain and he wasn't listening.

"You know what, do it your way, Bruce. Cause you're always right." You stared into his ocean blue eyes with annoyance and anger. Usually those eyes mean the world and could bring you to your knees but right now all you felt was annoyance and irritation.

"I will." He said it with a bit of a smartass tone, he was glad you backed down because he wasnt used to being questioned by anyone.

Guess what happened? The dumbass's suit was too heavy, and he ended up falling off a three-story building.

Thankfully, he's okay but now youre taking care of him. You didn't need to tell him I told you so, he knew he was wrong. While he was passed out in his bed you fixed up his suit and replaced the material that made it so heavy.

Bruce was never one for customizing his things too much but you knew how much he cared about his parents and sewed a small black rose into the undershirt of his suit. It was something he may never see or notice but it felt right considering how often he'd place roses where his parents were killed in Crime Alley, it was like they'd be with him at all times.

Bruce found it months later and immediately thought of you. He'd been thinking of you a lot and he realized how much you truly care about him by doing such little things like refill the water bottles in the batmobile and clean his suit without him asking. He sent you black roses as a thank you so you knew he saw it.

"You do so much for everyone and my family wouldnt be nearly as safe without you. I cant thank you enough. Let me take you out to dinner when you have time. - BW"

Your heart lept into your chest, you and Bruce bumped heads but it was in the same way an old married couple did, you both wanted what was best for the other. Bruce didnt want that other material cause he knew it'd be a pain for you to sew, even if he wouldn't tell you that. You wanted him safe, he knew that but you'd been busting your ass for the whole Batfamily so he asked for the other material even if in the end it did make him look stupid and dislocated one of his shoulders.

So due to that, he could at least get you to take you on a date, he needed a break too and it would be nice to get out and get away from all his kids to spend time with someone he was growing quite fond of.

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

Tim: When it came to upgrading Tim's gadgets it was a pain in the ass because he always needed the newest tech and a way to upgrade it. Fortunately, when it came to the gadgets he handled that himself or he had Lucius help with it.

When it came to the suit itself it didn't need to be upgraded unless it had some serious degradation and it was getting to that point, it had holes and rips everywhere.

"No, Tim. We cant talk about it later." You spoke to him through comms as he was on patrol.

"I'm a little busy." You could hear the wind on his cape as he glided over and through the city.

"You're always busy, Tim. The suit needs upgrades and if we dont get to them now it'll be too late. If you dont wanna miss a night of patrol then we need to do it now."

"Alright, Jesus. Why do you always gotta be right?" He said with a easy-going joking tone as he landed on a roof somewhere and there was the sound of the rain patting down onto his cape.

"So I was thinking maybe some titanium coated armor, it'd be stronger but definitely wouldnt add much weight...then maybe we could keep the boots but the pants wear too quickly-"

"Yeah, all that sounds good. I trust you but I gotta go, just do whatever you want." He said as it sounded like he started fighting a group of thugs. "I gotta go, getting my ass handed to me over here. You know? Normal stuff." He said with a laugh.

You worked like a mule trying to get his suit together, referencing his measurements and the sketch you had done several versions of trying to figure which looked the best and was the most functional. Tim bounces around like a ping pong ball so you just put the new suit in place of the old one so he could try it when he got around to it.

"Hey, have you seen this suit?! This is amazing!" He asked you as if he didn't already know you made it yourself.

"I'm glad you like it." You smiled as you worked on other garments.

"I could kiss you, this is so amazing! I- I- I mean...Um, yeah. Thank you." He says as he quickly leaves the room in his suit before his face matches the red on the new chest piece.

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

Damian: Being Bruce's son meant Damian would regularly have to attend galas. Damian wasnt so rough on his armored suits so mainly he needed to commision you for suits and the like.

He wasn't very talkative or sociable but secretly it was your favorite thing to do to dress up Damian like your own little Ken doll. Of course he'd never tell you but something about you lighting up everytime he needed something tailored just made his black heart just a very shades lighter.

"Mmm hmmm hmmm." You hummed to your music, your headphones on as to not disturb Damian while you fitted him with the new suit you had just finished but minutes before he walked in.

"You know you don't have to do that?"

"What?" You asked a bit concerned that you'd upset him in some sorta way.

"You can play your music out loud. I don't mind." He wanted to let you in and he could see how much you relaxed after he said that.

"I um- I don't know if you'll like it." You said concerned as you fiddled with your tailored tape.

"Well, we don't know if I will if you dont show me." Damian was in uncharted territory on talking to people and getting to know them but this felt good?

"I'm just listening to the Arcane soundtrack for this last season. It was so good." You almost started rambling but stopped, you liked Damian and didnt want him to think you were weird by going off about your interests.

"Yeah, it was pretty good, I really didn't expect that ending..."

"No, No, No! Wait! I haven't finished it. I just- I haven't had the chance. I'm on like episode four or five." You stopped him before he went on and accidentally spoiled it.

"Oh, so you haven't even got to the big parts then..."

"No, I've been working on your suit." You said as you smoothed the suit over his shoulders. The suit is a beautiful deep burgundy, the collars black with a black tie and white undershirt, simple but unique. He looks stunning, your hands held his wrist as you put on his cufflinks for him.

"We'll, I um..." Holy shit he was nervous, he'd not done this in ages...and he was never nervous but he wanted to make a good impression. He took a deep breath. "Hey, why don't you and I watch the last episodes together? Like make it a night tomorrow or something? I mean- Actually... do you have time tonight?"

"Tonight? I thought you were busy with the gala." You asked him, you didnt wanna say yes then make him feel obligated when he was actually meant to be somewhere else.

"I was but Jason and Dick can deal with it. I'd rather spend my night here with you if that's okay." You turned your face away from him as it was probably obvious that your heart was beating in eyes like an old cartoon.

"I'd love that." Your eyes glancing up at his a lot less nervous and a lot more hopeful.

That night was full of a lot of emotion from the show and you ended up a sobbing mess against his chest, thank goodness he'd changed out of the suit otherwise it would be soaked with your tears. He held you all through it and by the end of the night he was sure he was crushing on you.

-> Masterlists <-

[angellcherry]

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mold you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.

[blood-smiles]

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐄𝐊!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 MDNI - yandere content . yandere is such a human otaku it’s actually pathetic . general creepy content . DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

── .✦ You bit back sobs as you ran through the green forest, calves burning as if fire was licking at your heels. But you couldn’t stop, it would cost you your life.

Bullets zipped past you, impacting against the thick tree bark and leaving deep bullet holes, an angry man shouting behind you.

You dropped the rabbit in your hands long ago, the angry huntsman chasing behind you as if it was the last thing he would do. Only god would know what he would do to you if he caught you.

Your lungs struggled keeping up with the rest of your body as you sprinted away like a wild deer, a bullet implanted deep in your thigh. The adrenaline wouldn’t allow you to feel pain however, as you were focused on survival.

Your brain tingled with warmth, blood clogging up your head. Your body was beginning to lose strength and the pain would begin to tenfold in moments.

Thorns, your barreled into a bush with thorns, you heard the man stop shouting, but the stinging pain in your skin blocked him out completely as you somehow made it through the bush and landed on a patch of pavement.

Pavement? Why would there be pavement in the middle of the forest. You heard the soft gasps of being around you.

You let out a choked sob as your vision began to go black, the last thing you could remember was the patch of blood beneath you and the large warm hands of someone.

“—man…Hu—…an..Human.” Deep.. Why was his voice so deep? So warm and soothing like the hands on your arms.. What? Why are there hands touching you?

You inhaled sharply, snapping your eyes open. Had the hunter caught you? Where were you? 

Your vision blurred as you looked around, body too weak to function correctly, your mind screaming at your body to move—To do something, but your limbs stayed glued to the oddly soft and cushioned.

You took in a large inside of a house with wooden walls, curling into the shape of a tree. The insides lined with books on dated anthropology and various human graphs and.. were those human drawings on the walls?

You saw a male above you, too tall to be a human. And.. Were those pointed ears? Body markings?

What kind of fever induced dream was this?

Was this guy some kind of a human enthusiast? This teetered on borderline creepy and obsessive..

You must have made a funny face because the.. human but not so human shaped male let out an amused exhale through his nose.

“It seems that you are awake.” He paused “Now, little human, do not strain too much, your energy reserve is low.” The deep voice spoke again, bringing a hand close to your face and touching one of your cheeks carefully, with his finger making little swirls on your skin.

“You see, I have used a healing spell of elven origin on you. I found you in a state most dire, I must confess— I was by no means certain that my magicks would be efficacious upon your being. Human organisms are scarce in these lands, and your constitution, complex and delicate as it is, had me fearing I might harm thee furt—“

You couldn’t keep up with his rambling, you could tell he was quite intelligent but.. He really was a chatter box.

Your eyes drifted elsewhere, was this an elf..? You had understood that he was definitely not human, based on his physique and strange knowledge.

“How splendid, I have a human in my possession. A remarkable one too. Those beautiful eyes.. I wonder if most humans have those.. I’m going to note—.”

He looked around your age but his way of speaking and his mannerisms seemed more than a little old fashioned.

His clothing was something else too, it was modest on the top half, well, apart from the boob window, but most his torso was covered, but as you drifted lower, there was only a semi transparent loin cloth covering his genitals. His thighs were strong and his skin was dark and smooth, thigh highs reaching the middle of his thighs. You were pretty sure he was barefoot.

You tried blinking, probably looking like a confused turtle. His hair was very long and a pretty shade of pastel green, part of it covering his left eye, in a thick braid that ran all the way down his back and stopped at his tail bone.

His ears were elongated and droopy, pointing downwards, twitching once in a while, alike to the occasional ear twitches of a fawn.

You couldn’t help but reach a hand upwards towards his head, shaky but steady. Your palm wrapped around his ear, gently tugging at the cartilage.

He paused, eyes widening a little at the sudden intrusion of personal space. You felt his ear twitching under your fingers.

“Little human. What.. is thou doing?” He flushed, abnormally large hands hovering over your hand.

“Humans have natural curiosity, will need to write that down..”

You were sure he could snap your wrist as if it was nothing but a toothpick. You were pleasantly surprised to see that he handled you with extreme care and gentleness.

His slightly calloused hands ghosted over your skin as if the slightest breeze would scuff you. As if you were an antique doll and just the smallest touch of a feather would crack your fragile exterior.

“Ah. I comprehend now. You must be inquiring for sustenance, you must be famished.. Humans must have meals in a timely manner, noted.” He acknowledged, gently picking you up out of the bed and holding you on his hip.

He slung his braid over his shoulder as he carefully took you to what seemed like a kitchen. His chest was very full and comfortable, so you just put your face on it. 

Your hands absentmindedly played with his soft hair, you wondered to yourself when you even got the confidence to touch a stranger so familiarly when he had kidnapped you.

But.. It wasn’t all that bad, he healed you. Only light scars lingered on your skin, and you were sure they would disappear in no time. 

Plus he was very easy on the eyes— AND he was about to feed you! Were you in heaven?

He hummed softly, placing you on the very tall counter (?) made of some wood, the material felt smooth under your skin like a bamboo board. 

He steadied you against a wall, keeping a watchful eye on you just in case you would tilt over and fall off the counter.

You were still so drowsy, blinking slowly and trying to keep the sleep out of your eyes. Were you hallucinating? Because you watched in a daze as ingredients floated around the tall human shaped male in a circle.

He raised a hand once in a while, the needed ingredient drifting to his hand. What you assumed to be a cook book levitated in front of him on a page you couldn’t quite see the contents of.

He glanced at you out of his uncovered eye once in a while checking you were okay. 

You couldn’t keep your head up anymore, your head bobbed in fatigue. Your hands folding over your stomach as your eyes began to shut.

“Dearest specimen, wake up. Food is ready.” A soft voice and the gentle feeling of a hand smoothing your hair roused you.

You blinked the sleep away, you had regained the control over your limbs.

“Fortunately I scavenged a human cook book in the library, now I have vaster knowledge on your human custom—“

You let out a small scream, to which he jumped at. Staring at you as if you had grown a second head then turning his head to the sides as if looking for some invisible threat.

“W-Who— What are you?” You slightly raised your voice, hands shooting up to grab his wrist to hold it over your head, halting the soft patting of your head.

“Susano, Human researcher.” He smiled a little bit, finding that you needed both your hands to lift his one wrist obscenely cute. he could see your forearms shaking under the weight of his arm.

“I’m an elf, and you a human. Pray tell, what is your name, human?” He tilted his head down at you, letting you get a closer look at his face and the white markings on his face, the small white dots and star like details.

“..(Y/N).” You caved in, hands sweating as you release his wrist. It wouldn’t be that bad telling him your name since he healed you and.. did he save you?

“..Did you pick me up from that.. Bazaar?” He nodded, stirring the warm plate of soup in his hand with a wooden spoon.

“I believe that someone was chasing you, isn’t that right?.. A human male with a strange metal rod with a leather handle?” Wow, you had thought you lost the hunter but it’s seems not.

“He landed in the same spot you had, you needn’t worry your pretty little head, (Y/N).” He paused as he caught a glimpse of your worried expression.

Gently blowing a little of the soup with his mouth to cool it down, he gently guided the spoon towards your lips.

“Say ‘aah~’..” The soup smelled so good, you reluctantly opened your mouth, really.. What had gotten into you! Letting a..an elf feed you? A stranger no less!!

Flavors exploded in your mouth, your eyebrows raising in surprise, tasting the food in your mouth a second before swallowing.

“So good..” you mumbled, wiping the corner of your mouth before Susano could get to it first.

He smiled appreciatively before continuing his explanation as he spoon fed you. “That.. Hunter, threatened us with his.. strange weapon. I believe humans call them ‘guns’. He tried to pry you out of my arms but I fear I may have swatted him in the head too hard.”

You paused eating, staring at the elf with something unnameable.

“Ah! No no. Don’t look at me like that.. I only did it for your well being. Humans like him.. truly repulse me.” He grimaced at nothing, bringing up the spoon towards his lips to polish the bowl off.

You watched as his tongue stuck out and slowly licked your drool off. Was it intended to be so erotic? You flushed at little under his watchful gaze.

“Tell me, how old are you?” He asked, flicking his wrist and sending the bowl away.

“..I’m 22.” You shyly answered, scratching an itch on your shoulder. You had read in an old library book that elf’s could be pretty old, the fact not showing very much on their appearances.

“You must be a growing human then!! Ah, how thrilling! Your bones are to age aren’t they?” What a strange question, you nodded with a strange look on your face.

“You look different from the infant humans in books though.. Do you need breast feeding still? Did you lose your mother? You poor thing.. All lost and on your own..” he cooed, coming closer to you and opening his arms to embrace you in a soul crushing hug.

He grabbed your arms while you were restrained by his biceps, a notebook floating into view with a levitating pen.

what seemed to be a measuring device began flying everywhere and measuring all details about you.

“Hm. How interesting, humans heal at an extremely slow rate. How have you managed to survive this long? Your immune system is naught but absolutely easy to trespass and get you ill.” He noted, your ears registering the soft scribbling of a pen on pages.

“Humans are very intelligent beings but.. still so fragile, I could snap your bones with a squeeze of my hand. Are all of you this small? You barely reach my mid section, truly amusing.” He muttered under his breath

“H-Hold on! I do not need breast feeding! I’m not a child! I’m an adult! A full grown adult with an almost fully developed frontal lobe!” You tried to resist his hug, putting your arms in front of you as if your feeble attempt would stop you from being smothered between his chests.

“Hm? Is that so..? Well, surely you still want to be taken care of don’t you? Even if you are an adult, surely you won’t mind more smothering.. Humans are truly such interesting creatures.” He lifted you into the air as if you were lighter than an underweight kitten.

“I have made my mind.” He lifted you to meet his eyes, which was pretty high up, if you guessed he was somewhere around seven feet.

His expression was serious and ice cold. As if he was a drill sergeant about to reprimand you. His hold was gentle but his eyes said something else.

“I am going to keep you here with me, in the village. From now on you are under my care as a defenseless human, adult or not. I took you in and now you are my responsibility.” He announced proudly, before hugging you as close as possible to him, rubbing his cheek against your own face.

“—And you are going to aid me in my human studies, you are one remarkable specimen and too precious to let prance out in the wild. Goddesses, how did you even survive out there? Do you know how dangerous elven forests are?”

You tried grabbing at the long green braid of hair to make him peel himself from you, the body warmth was all consuming and becoming unbearable.

You tried to pull at his hair but he didn’t budge, only smiling and ‘aww’ing at your attempt to make space.

“We shall have a most wonderful time together. ♥”

[tojisteddy]

Photograph | the soft, mushy, fluffy shit with meanie!simon

Simon Riley who despises having his photos taken.

There’s a reason why there’s no pictures of him on file, something Price’s assistant is still too fucking adamant about getting their hands on. There were no pictures of him or his family around the house either, the few lasting pictures in a box locked away in another box in the basement.

But then there was you who had about 5 cameras laying around the house, always ready to take a picture of something.

You’d purse your lips, high pitched babbles leaving your lips to get Simons attention as if he was a baby, trying to get them to focus on the camera. With no hesitation, he’s playfully mushing your camera out of his face, or blocking the view of himself right when you got a good shot of him. And you’d chuckle through a groan, falling all over him like you always did, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“My mom still takes pictures of everything, so you have to be good ‘nd let me take my portion Si.”

“….mmm… Fuck no.”

But when the house is quiet, the dogs in their cages, and you’re deep in slumber for the night, he’s right there in the kitchen by the stove light. Hunched over the counter because of his tall frame, looking through the scrap book you so meticulously put together. Pages filled with pictures of you, off guards of Simon you craftily took, the dogs, little stickers, paper cut outs from magazines or things you wasted his printer ink on, silly miniature drawings, notes about when the pictures were taken, and those god damn the blurry photos you took of the older man. Face covered by his mask or his hand, in an attempt to hide himself—

Was it shyness? Shame? A mix of both, not wanting to reveal the scars on his face that’ll be stuck there for the rest of his life— those permanent proof of events that would be etched in his brain. He hated recalling past bullshit, it makes his stomach turn, his palms sweaty, irritated. He wasn’t used to it, not like he ever could, how much you really, truly cared about the brute.

How you saw the beauty in him, the tattered man that was Simon Riley— he couldn’t understand it.

But then he continued flipping through the book, there’s that photo you took while he was completely knocked out, bare chested, bed head of blonde hair showing of his body covered in tattoos and markings— the more than healed gun shot wound from an incident a couple years back on his left shoulder, the knife wounds, the burns— but you’re there.

Face buried in his chest, eyes smizing at the camera while your other fingers graced right at the mark on his cheek you always touched— content. Content with being with him.

Then another, you’ve got that stupidity cute smile on your face as Simons got your in a playful headlock, it makes your cheeks chub out like a chipmunk, curls covering your face and just barley— you could see Simons lips curved up— laughing at how dumb his baby looked.

Another, one that he took this time, and it’s shit compared to the the ones you take. But Simon adored it, you’re right on the hood of his truck, arm propping you up as you give him that classic smirk with one of his shirts you’d swore was yours, nipples peaking through the material. Fucking gorgeous, incredible being you were.

God damn it, you were his precious baby. Ghost’s heart swells because he’d be damned if he couldn’t continue seeing you taking those annoying photos and putting them together like it was some final award winning project. Simon would probably never admit it aloud, but you and those memories were his treasure, he’d do anything to keep it in his grasp.

a/n: ending is shit but whatever, no one’s reading this. But this being my first fluff(ish) post about simon, woah.

[wenclair-more-like-whenclair]

If you’ve ever thought about writing smut or a sex scene but for some reason haven’t bc of fear or shame, this is your sign from God telling you that you should go for it. You should just go for it.

Genuinely, seriously, and completely unironically, writing sex scenes and exploring my favorite characters’ sexualities in writing has been one of the most healing and rewarding hobbies I have embraced in my adulthood. As someone who grew up queer in a hyper-conservative Christian space, I felt robbed of getting to explore sexuality in a healthy way, but writing smut can be such an amazing way to understand your own kinks and desires. Personally, it has helped me figure out what I am looking for sexually in a relationship and how I would like to be treated.

The internet has never had greater communities than the thousands of ppl on this app and ao3 who bond over a shared love of fictional character porn. Seriously, I have yet to think of anything more BEAUTIFUL and MAGICAL than the spiritual connection we feel across continents and all over the world just bc we believe that two men want to fuck. And trust me, there is something freeing and liberating about getting to write it yourself. Is there any kink you’d like to explore but are too shy to explore it with a partner at first? There is literally not a safer space than your own mind and the beautiful words you will create just trying to describe a cock going into a hole.

This is me fully affirming and supporting anyone across the world who wants to write about some fucking. DO THAT SHIT, man. It’s SO FUN. In my mid-twenties, my ideal relaxing day off is literally making myself a cup of hot coffee, turning on the lo-fi, and writing a good smut scene between one of my favorite ships. Literally the highest form of self-care imo. Nothing feels better. WRITE THAT SHIT.

[pa1nrema1ns]

Opiate² || Sung Jin-woo (18+ One-shot)

Featuring: Yandere!Priest Sung Jin-woo x Fem!reader

If you want to get your soul to heaven Trust in me now, don't you judge or question You are broken now, but faith can heal you Just do everything I tell you to do

Summary:

“What you feel in your heart, the yearning you have for this man, it’s only to be expected. You are flesh and blood, malleable and weak to temptation. As am I… If you would indulge me, may I ask who it is that you covet so deeply?" “He—he is a man of faith,” you stutter, “someone I should have no business thinking about.” Father Jin-woo’s reply is sharp enough to cut bone: “But you still want him all the same, don’t you? This forbidden fruit of yours?”

♱ Word count: 5.8k

♱ A/N: It's finally here! My first, full-fledged smut fic, and I am beyond excited to share it with you all! Once again, I want to thank the incredible @ekkurea. She completely knocked it out of the park with her drop-dead gorgeous rendition of Father Jin-woo. She is an amazing artist and an absolute joy to work with. I highly recommend visiting her gallery and commissioning her.

I also want to thank my lovely friend and beta-reader @heyimkana for brainstorming ideas and offering encouragement during the writing process of this piece. Her help and insight has been invaluable, and I am extremely grateful for her support.

♱ Content warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, piv, body worship (giving and receiving), canon compliant AU (hunters and gates exist; Jin-woo is a retired hunter), afab!reader, dirty talk, religious themes and imagery, blasphemy, sacrilege, manipulation, possessiveness, voyeurism, gratuitous praise, pet names, softdom!Jin-woo.

♱ Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @anitalenia

♱ Header artwork by: @ekkurea exclusively for this fic. Please do not repost, edit, or use for your own fics, headcanons, or drabbles.

Your heart hammers inside your chest as you gaze at the confessional booth. A cursory glance at your surroundings reveals no other churchgoers inside the cathedral. Apart from a lone priest hidden behind the lattice, you were the only sign of life in this house of God.

An eerie silence floods the communal hall, worsening your anxiety. You release a shaky breath and wring your fists in consternation, too nervous to move from your spot in the pews.

Given your circumstances, you’re unsure if you should consider the lack of an audience a blessing or a curse. The foreboding atmosphere inside the church makes the latter seem more fitting, and for the first time since joining the parish, you find yourself feeling unwelcome and isolated here.

As if you were an outcast.

You clench your teeth at the thought.

In all your years of being a loyal parishioner, you hadn’t once sought penance. And up until this point, you didn’t have a reason to. You were a highly pious individual, regularly attending Mass, participating in the holy sacraments, and devoting all your free time to liturgical services. Of course, you weren’t always so virtuous. You had your vices, as all people do, but you remained steadfast on the path of righteousness. You had done everything in your power to live a life free from sin.

But the devil never sleeps, and evil lurks in the hearts of men.

Despite your best efforts, you were seduced into partaking of the forbidden fruit, and from the tree of knowledge, you ate. Now a blight has been cast on you, an affliction so devastating in its destructiveness that it left you teetering on the cusp of madness. Sin crept its way into your life, and it was slowly rotting you from the inside out.

Wickedness and temptation manifest in many ways depending on the person. For some, it’s hedonistic pleasures like promiscuity, excessive drinking, or gambling. For others, it’s immoral acts such as violence, theft, or murder.

For you, sin came in the form of a man.

Father Jin-woo stood out among the rest of the clergy. Young, roguishly handsome, and captivating in all measures, he attracted a considerable amount of attention from the parish. What’s more, the enigmatic priest proved to be a highly capable shepherd to his flock. In fact, he was held in such high regard within the church that many of Jin-woo’s followers attended his sermons just to catch a glimpse of him. The man was simply mesmerizing, both in aura and appearance.

Rumors abound about him being a former hunter, and if word of mouth is to be believed, he had been a damn incredible one. Why Jin-woo chose to abandon glory and riches beyond all reckoning for a humble life of the cloth, you did not know. To your fellow parishioners, it was a noble and benevolent decision.

But his aloof demeanor gave you pause. The man seemed to keep everyone at arm’s length, and then there were his eyes, so unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You noticed right away that Jin-woo always had a coldness to his eyes, even while proclaiming the word of God. It was a truly menacing stare, one that burned white hot with the promise of brimstone and hellfire.

Yet it wasn’t fear or adoration that struck your heart when you first witnessed this side of him.

It was pure and unbridled lust. An animalistic desire to be so thoroughly ruined, so thoroughly fucked by Jin-woo that not even the deepest dregs of Hell would have you.

You remember the rush of heat curling low and heavy in your stomach as you watched him give Mass the other day. You swiped your tongue across your lips as you imagined mouthing at the smooth expanse of his neck. You’d leave little love marks on the sensitive skin just above his clerical collar, making it impossible for him to hide.

When the priest raised his arms in supplication, his muscles pulled taut against the sleeves of his cassock, causing your breath to catch in your throat. That single action triggered a domino effect on you. Your panties began to dampen, your heart rate skyrocketed, and your clit pulsed for attention. You pressed your thighs together, attempting to quell the ache between them, but the small amount of friction it produced just wasn’t enough; you needed more. You needed Jin-woo’s fingers to be knuckle-deep inside your tight, wet cunt.

You bit back a moan and tried to ignore your arousal, hoping it would just go away on its own. But it was no use; every aspect of the priest bewitched you in that moment. His calm composure, the hard ridges of his body, and his quiet self-assurance all spoke of virility.

Ultimately, it was his piercing gaze that sealed your fall from grace. During the Penitential Act, you locked eyes with Jin-woo. There was such a smoldering, sexual intensity in the way he looked at you that it bordered on being indecent. You trembled under his stare, and for a fraction of a second, you saw the hint of a smirk upon his lips before he turned his focus elsewhere.

After that, your fantasies ran wild and unimpeded, your mind full to bursting with pornographic prose. You thought of Jin-woo pinning your knees to your chest as he pounded into your pussy until it molded to the shape of him. He’d bend you to his will, forcing every ounce of pleasure out of your pliant body while your ankles dangled helplessly from his broad shoulders like earrings.

Next, you fantasized about him eating you out like a starved beast as you writhed and moaned like a whore on the altar. The other clergymen would watch on in envy as they stroked their plump and leaking cocks, wishing they could also get a taste of your dripping pussy.

You idly wondered if Jin-woo would make you cum with slow, purposeful licks or if he would ruthlessly tongue fuck you, sucking and flicking at your sensitive little clit until you were a wailing mess.

Eventually these lust-fueled thoughts became too much to bear; slick coated your thighs, and the fire in your loins was blazing into an all-out inferno. You ended up sneaking out of Mass midway through the scripture readings to slake your thirst.

You took refuge in an unoccupied sacristy and slid your soaked panties to the side. Your cunt was positively throbbing with want; it was frightening just how aroused you were. But fear wasn’t about to stop you from making yourself cum.

You circled your clit and slowly pumped two fingers in and out of your sopping core, curling the digits against a spot that caused you to let out a small whimper as you sought more stimulation. The priest’s face was on your mind and his name on your lips when you came with a hushed moan.

The entire time, you were oblivious to the silent specter watching you from the shadows.

When you returned, there was something decidedly wrong with Jin-woo. His forehead was dotted with sweat, he had a white-knuckled hold on the podium, and he’d bitten his lip so hard blood ran down his chin. A few of the parishioners voiced their concerns, worried he might’ve taken ill, but he waved them off, wiping his mouth and continuing his oration as if nothing had happened.

You felt the priest’s eyes boring into you as you took your seat, and you ended up avoiding his gaze for the rest of the sermon.

At that time, an irrational part of you feared that Jin-woo knew what you did in the sacristy. But he couldn't have heard you through the thick walls of the cathedral… could he? No, there was no way. He was probably just pissed at you for disrupting his service; you’d have to apologize the next time you saw him.

That night, you prayed to the Almighty for forgiveness, but no amount of Hail Marys would be enough to rid you of the guilt and shame you felt. You needed absolution, an act of mercy that only an ordained priest could grant you.

You don’t know whether to cry or laugh at the irony of it all. Fate had a really fucked-up sense of humor, didn’t it?

And this brought you to where you are now, a penitent seeking salvation.

After several minutes of self-reflection, you strengthen your resolve and finally stand up from the pews; it was now or never. You approach the booth and make the sign of the cross prior to entering.

You cross yourself once more as you kneel behind the screen. All is silent, save for the steady breathing of the unseen priest. You swallow nervously before greeting him, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession.”

A deep and familiar voice responds wholeheartedly to your call.

“Peace be upon you and take heart. You show much bravery by coming here today. To seek penance is to acknowledge our own faults and misgivings. It is a vulnerable act, but the Lord is merciful and just. You’ve nothing to fear in his presence. Now, please tell me, what have you come to confess?”

Just your luck; it was Jin-woo. Fate definitely had it out for you.

You release a breath you’re not even aware you’ve been holding and begin to speak your truth.

“Father, for the last few months I’ve been overcome by sexual desire for… an acquaintance of mine. At first, I thought it was an innocent crush, but as time passes, I find myself becoming more and more obsessed with him… to the point where it scares me.”

You can feel your face growing hot as you speak; it makes you feel even smaller and more exposed in front of the priest. You keep your head firmly bowed, refusing to face him.

“I see, so these lustful thoughts and feelings are what trouble you?” he inquires, tone impartial.

“Yes, Father,” you answer sullenly.

“God sends us many in the way of trials and tribulations, both to test our faith and to build character. It is unfortunate that affliction often precedes deliverance, but only in suffering can we truly blossom and grow stronger.”

After a short pause, he continues, his voice dulcet now. “What you feel in your heart, the yearning you have for this man, it’s only to be expected. You are flesh and blood, malleable and weak to temptation. As am I… If you would indulge me, may I ask who it is that you covet so deeply?"

“He—he is a man of faith,” you stutter, “someone I should have no business thinking about.”

Jin-woo’s reply is sharp enough to cut bone: “But you still want him all the same, don’t you? This forbidden fruit of yours?”

You raise your head and direct your gaze at the screen, diffident. He continues, “Two days ago, I saw you departing from Mass quite suddenly. I grew concerned, of course; you’re always so engaged when it comes to receiving the message of God, so I found your actions to be highly out of character… Now, after listening to your plight, I can’t help but wonder if that unusual behavior has anything to do with what we’re discussing right now.”

‘Wait, what!?’ You think, internally panicking. ‘Did he know? Did Jin-woo actually know—’

“I recall one of the deacons pulling me to the side after service that day. He was blushing furiously; when I asked him what was wrong, he mentioned hearing a noise that sounded like a woman’s moans and whimpers coming from our sacristy. Strange, isn’t it?”

“…” Words fail you. From behind the lattice, the priest’s eyes shift from cobalt blue to a sinister shade of amethyst as he studies your face.

There’s an audible smirk in his voice when he next asks, “Does any of this ring a bell for you? And do be honest with me when you answer this time. You’ll find that I have a low tolerance for liars, sweet girl.”

Your heart plummets into the pit of your stomach. So, he knew. He fucking knew this whole time, and he played you like a fiddle. The writing was on the wall, and there was no use in playing coy with a man who saw straight through your bullshit.

“Yes… it does,” you answer in barely above a faltering whisper, “I was in that room when I should’ve been at Mass, and I—I was touching… myself.”

There’s only silence on the other side of the lattice. The lack of a response makes you feel an even deeper sense of embarrassment.

You frantically apologize to Jin-woo, hoping to make amends. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Father! The sins I’ve committed behind these sacred walls are unforgivable, but I just couldn’t take it anymore! The person—the man I’ve been lusting over—is you!”

The priest inhales sharply, his first notable reaction since this debacle began.

“I lost control of myself as I watched you during your sermon; I couldn’t stop thinking about having your hands all over me!” you babble, “I left that day because I was so turned on by you; it was driving me insane! I hid in the sacristy and masturbated just so the hunger would go away…and I imagined some truly terrible things about you as I touched myself.”

When Jin-woo graces you with a response, his voice is husky, with an air of desperation in it. “Tell me what it is you thought of; reveal to me your darkest and most depraved impulses. And do not hold back. I won’t be able to cleanse your soul of sin unless I know the true depths of your debauchery.”

Your eyes widen, not so much from his request but from the wanton neediness in his voice. It awakens something inside you, something primal that rids you of all shame and inhibition.

“I’ve daydreamt of you fucking me in front of the clergy with my legs spread wide open on the altar.” you say, emboldened now, “I fantasized about sucking your cock and forcing so much pleasure on you that you forsake God, and I become the new deity you worship. I want to corrupt you in the same way the devil has corrupted me. There’s a sickness inside me, Father, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You hear the faint rustling of clothes and a belt clinking. A moment later, a throaty groan escapes the priest, and the sound shoots straight to your core. You slip a hand beneath the sundress you’re wearing and run a finger along your slit, already wet with slick.

You didn’t care if he saw you this time. There was nothing left for you to hide.

“Meet me outside of the booth. Now.” Jin-woo abruptly demands, his terse tone brooking no argument. You heed his words without question, standing on coltish legs and walking with a slight tremor as you exit the confessional.

Jin-woo is in full view before you now, a licentious shell of his former self. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead haphazardly, sweat ran in rivulets down his face, and his fly was undone, exposing his hard and drooling cock.

You shamelessly drink him in. His cock was thick, thicker than you could’ve ever imagined, with prominent veins and a slight curve towards the tip that looked like it would hit you just right. His cockhead was also flushed a vibrant shade of red, and pearls of precum glistened at the glans. You wet your lips in anticipation, eager to get a taste of him. Jin-woo notices your ogling and gives himself a languid pump, once then twice, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Come to me,” he purrs, “Come so that I may bestow your penance.”

You take a step, but then he stops you with a second command.

“No, angel; I need you on your hands and knees. I want you to crawl to me like the lost little lamb that you are. Crawl for me, crawl for my cock.”

You sink to your knees and lower your hands to the ground, making sure to give the priest an ample view of your cleavage as you slink towards him on all fours. His expression is rhapsodic as he watches you, like a man who’s finally found purpose in his life.

“Look at you, look at how fucking gorgeous you are on your hands and knees. Such an obedient girl for me,” he coos at you with honeyed praise, cracks starting to show in his stoic façade.

Once you’re at his feet, Jin-woo quickly resumes his authoritative tone. “Give me your chin,” he orders. You obey, tilting your head back, and he grabs you firmly by the jaw, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes emit a luminous glow, reminding you of his status as an S-rank hunter. You’d all but forgotten this through the haze of your lust-addled mind, but you weren’t afraid of the priest’s change in attitude. In fact, you find his display of power invigorating.

He slowly caresses your cheek with his thumb and gravely states, “The devil has sunk his fangs into you, sweet girl, and he tempts you just as he tempts me, through our baser instincts. Your soul is tainted, but it’s not beyond salvation by my hands. Only by succumbing to your carnal desire for me can you achieve absolution. Knowing this, are you fully prepared to accept the penance you’ve earned?”

You try to nod your head, but he tightens his hold on you—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know who’s in charge.

“Use your words, angel.”

“Yes, Father.”

A rakish smile spreads across his face, and he presses a chaste kiss to your head. “Good girl. Now, take my cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. Earlier you said that you would make me forsake God for pleasure. That was the devil speaking through you, no doubt. Let’s test this twisted conviction of his, shall we?”

He releases you and rises to his full height, glancing down expectantly. You immediately get to work, eager to satisfy him. You tug at the waistband of Jin-woo’s trousers, and he tilts his narrow hips to assist you. Once the pants are halfway down his thighs, you’re able to fully take him in. Not only was his dick intimidating in girth, but it was also long and even prettier up close.

There’s a potent headiness in the air that surrounds him, a distinctly masculine scent that you can’t help but crave more of. Unable to resist, you lean forward, bracing yourself against one of Jin-woo’s legs, and press your nose against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

When he sees you smelling him, the priest lets out a soft chuckle that breaks into a moan when you begin to play with his balls. You gently fondle them, appreciating the weight and feel in your hand. With your other hand, you stroke his shaft, alternating between twisting and up-and-down motions. Jin-woo lets out a pleased grunt at your ministrations and rasps, “Hah…ahh… yeah, just like that, just like—oh!—oh, fuck!” The priest hisses as his cock is suddenly engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth.

You swallow around him, swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft before pulling back to kitten-lick at his leaking cockhead. He tastes like salt and skin, and you dip your tongue into his slit to savor more of him. Once you’ve had your fill of his pre, you hollow your cheeks and sink your mouth further down his length. Jin-woo tosses his head back, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.

“Good girl—fuuuck!”

At this stage, your neglected pussy was wet and positively aching with need. Without stopping your ministrations, you sneak your other hand between the juncture of your thighs and slide a finger into your core. There’s absolutely no resistance, allowing you to effortlessly slip two more fingers in, up to the knuckle. This finally gives you the sense of fullness you’ve been longing for. Once satisfied with the stretch, you begin to massage your inner walls and grind your clit against the heel of your palm.

Your actions cause you to whine and moan around Jin-woo’s cock. He hums lowly, equal parts amused and aroused by your neediness.

“Mmm…are you touching that greedy cunt again? Heh, how cute... no—no, don't stop touching yourself, angel. I want you to get off too. I want you to make yourself cum with my cock in your throat and your fingers thrusting into that perfect pussy.” Praise intermingled with filth spews from his lips as he becomes lost in the feeling of your mouth. The priest promptly tightens his hold on your head and starts to buck his hips, face-fucking you at a brutal tempo.

The sudden intrusion causes your eyes to well, and you gag as you feel him hitting the back of your throat. You focus on breathing through your nose and attempt to relax your throat, a monumental task given how girthy and long the priest's dick was. Jin-woo takes note of your discomfort and stills his hips. You glance up at him through tears, and there's a softness in his features you'd never seen before. Unprompted, he loosens his hold on your head and cards his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands from your face. Next, he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your dampened cheeks. You melt into his touch and nuzzle against his hand.

After remaining like this for a few precious moments, Jin-woo begins to thrust again, this time at a much slower and less punishing pace. You allow him to guide your head down his shaft while you pump your fingers into your wet heat. A coil was sprung tight in your abdomen, and each swipe at your clit and scrape against your inner walls sends a thrum of pleasure throughout your body. The shockwaves to your impending orgasm were already set in stone; all you needed was that final push to send you toppling over the edge—

Without warning, you feel the presence of a large palm cupping your mons. It glides along your panties, tracing your pussy lips through the thin material. Before you can process what's happening, your underwear is tugged to the side and your fingers are pried from your cunt by an invisible force. Something much bigger replaces the digits. It fills you to the brim in one go, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your thighs shake when the appendage starts to undulate against your plush walls. Every twist and turn causes you to inhale sharply. The phantom's touch wanders aimlessly, with no set destination. Or so it seems, until you feel an intense burst of pressure on your sweetest spot.

You squeal at the sensation and lurch backward, a string of saliva lewdly trailing from your lips as you part from Jin-woo’s cock. You thrash wildly, trying with all your might to escape. It was just too much, too soon. But the priest effortlessly maintains his hold on you, and you can only watch in horror when several more tendrils of mana manifest from his hands.

The magic slithers across his forearms, down the floor, and between your thighs before disappearing into your exposed cunt. Using Ruler’s Hand, Jin-woo plays with the wetness that dances along your puffy folds. He then lifts the hood of your clit to lightly graze at the bud beneath it before pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves. That was all it took to send you spiraling over the edge. Waves of white-hot pleasure rip through you so violently, your vision fades in and out. All the while, the telekinetic appendage steadily fucks you through it, reaching depths you'd never imagined.

Your body clenches, then slackens, in the aftershock of your orgasm. There’s buzzing in your ears, a white noise that temporarily deafens you. But through the static, you’re able to hear the faint sound of someone screaming. It doesn’t register as your own voice at first; it was raw, hoarse, and unrecognizable. Like the pale imitation of a changeling.

Time slows and distorts, and you feel yourself drifting, sinking further and further away from a state of consciousness.

But Jin-woo manages to reel you in, away from the darkness.

“—come back to me, angel. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Choked moans and broken syllables are all you can muster in your blissed-out state, “Hnng—ahhh! Fa—Father! I… ha…ahn!”

“Shhh, it's alright." Jin-woo murmurs softly while stroking your cheek with his knuckles. He wraps his other hand around his pulsating cock and repeatedly runs his fist from the base to the tip, using a mixture of his own pre-cum and your drool as a lubricant. Above Jin-woo lay a large stained-glass mural of Saint Mary Magdalene. He's cast in iridescent rays of light as the setting sun illuminates the window, making him appear transcendent. The sight of him takes your breath away.

So enraptured were you with Jin-woo's beauty that you don't even realize he's lowered his hand from your face to your tits. He kneads at the supple flesh, admiring your softness. You mewl and arch into his touch, surrendering yourself to him. The priest then dips his hand into the décolletage of your dress and yanks it down, exposing your luscious breasts and the hardened peak of your nipples. Your core throbs at the strangled moan he lets out. “Oh fuck, you’re so soft, so warm,” he whispers shakily as he gropes at the plump mounds, “And the way the sun lights your skin, the enticing curves of your body, the quickening of your pulse as I take you in my hand… how? Just how can you be real? I’ve never wanted something—someone—so badly in my life.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the movements of Ruler’s Hand came to a complete halt. In an instant, all the telekinetic energy that surrounds your partially clad form dissipates. You’re not even spared the chance to gather your bearings before Jin-woo unceremoniously hauls you to your feet and presses his muscular frame to yours. He brings his face close, with only the narrowest of margins separating your lips from his. You can feel his breath in yours, the beating of vitality in his heart, and the rigid planes of clothed muscle against your bare breasts. You yearn for him to close the gap, to finally submit to the searing passion that consumed both of you.

Several agonizing seconds pass before Jin-woo pleads—begs, as the last of his restraint crumbles. “Please, please, let me have you—!” Unable to control himself, the priest captures your lips in a hungered kiss. You moan into his mouth and gasp when he slips his tongue inside to gently brush against your own. A low growl emits from the priest’s throat, and all semblance of rationality is lost.

Jin-woo delves his tongue further, deepening the kiss. You readily yield, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him. Jin-woo grasps you by the throat possessively and allows his other hand to drift freely over your figure. He caresses the swell of your breasts with his calloused fingers, treading slowly over your pert nipples and leaving goosebumps in his wake. Next, he smooths his palm down your sternum and along your abdomen until he reaches the curve of your hip. The priest sinks his fingers into the pliable flesh, and with his lips never once leaving yours, he starts to walk you backward.

Jin-woo leads, and you follow; your submission to him nearly second nature by now. After a few stumbling steps, your back hits something hard, and the strange sensation causes you to break the kiss. Undeterred, the priest slides his hand from the front of your neck to your nape, and with the other hand he has on your hip, he uses his strength to hoist you onto a table—no—an altar. Jin-woo then lowers your upper body onto the platform, slots himself between your legs, and pulls the hem of your sundress up until the fabric bunches at your waist.

The breathless “oh fuck,” he mumbles at the sight of your bare cunt, has you clenching around thin air. The priest pants, and a sheen of sweat coats him as he pins you to the altar with his larger frame. He gazes at you with eyes glazed over before grabbing at his cock and running the tip of it along your slit. You bleat pathetically, and Jin-woo presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth to coddle you. He then slides his lips over yours, kissing you in earnest. When he parts, the priest murmurs imploringly, “I wanted to take my time with you, angel, really, I did. But if I go for another second without fucking you, I fear I might go insane. Tell me, are you sure you want this? This is your last chance to back out. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop once I’m inside you.”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes! Oh god, yes—”

He cuts you off midsentence, sheathing himself entirely in your heat. Your eyes well up as he splits you apart on his cock. No matter how wet you were, nothing could’ve prepared you for the sheer breadth of Jin-woo’s dick. He stretched you far past your limits, filling you so completely that you swore you could feel him at the back of your throat.

Your thighs tremble and your head lulls to the side, baring your neck to him. The priest licks a fat stripe from your collar bone to the apple of your check, lapping up your salty tears. Your walls flutter and tighten at his actions, and he groans approvingly, pushing his cock in even deeper. Your thighs tremble and your face scrunches at the sting. Jin-woo hadn’t even moved yet, and you were already falling to pieces underneath him. You clutch onto his shoulders for purchase, digging your nails into the well-defined muscles. Jin-woo grunts and lowers his face into the crook of your neck to nose against it. You shudder when you feel his breath tickling your ear.

“You feel fucking divine, angel. So warm, wet, and inviting… I think I’ll keep you for myself once I’m done. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Oh—shit! Did you just clench? Sweet girl, if you keep doing that, then I really won’t hold back.” The priest emphasizes his warning with a nip to your throat, drawing a cry of surprise from you.

Using this momentary pain as a distraction, Jin-woo pulls out of you until only the tip remains and then rams his hips forward, spearing you on his dick. You babble and wail incoherently as he batters your bruised walls. True to his word, the priest was holding nothing back from you. He pistons his hips in and out at an unrelenting tempo and grinds his pelvis on your clit with every thrust he makes. Gradually, the soreness in your cunt gives way to pleasure. You wrap your legs around Jin-woo’s waist and dig your heels into the small of his back, anchoring him to you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and cries of ecstasy permeate the room. Jin-woo thrusts desperately into you, his nostrils flaring and the veins in his forearms bulging from exertion. If the pulsing of his cock inside you was anything to go by, then he was close. Dangerously so. You weren’t far behind either; the priest was hitting all your spots, and the constant stimulation on your clit was maddening.

Jin-woo catches you totally unawares when he presses his forehead to yours. He peers into your eyes, looking intently into the depths, and then he speaks a secret meant only for you. “Allow me to make a confession of my own. There was no deacon wandering by the sacristy that day. It was me; I was the one who saw you in the throes of passion. And when I heard you moan my name—my actual name and not the title that binds me to the church—it took everything in me not to mount you right then and there! You have no idea what you do to me, sweet girl.”

“It’s not your fault. Nothing is your fault. I’m the one to blame, Angel, not you.” Jin-woo quickly silences the unspoken apology burning at the tip of your tongue. He could sense it coming from the hurt look in your eyes.

“As a hunter, I’ve dirtied my hands, stolen countless lives, and conquered lands unknown to man or God, all in the pursuit of power. I am tainted, bathed in sin. A disgrace to our lord and undeserving of someone as pure and as beautiful as you. But I don’t care what hell awaits me. All that matters is that you’re mine now. Mine—mine—only mine!” He snarls at the end, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips. Your breasts bounce, your thighs quiver, and your mouth forms a small ‘o’ under the influence of his ministrations. To Jin-woo, you were the spitting image of a fallen angel. You were also his undoing, as his thrusts became sloppy and more erratic. His hips stutter then cease all movement as he spills his seed inside you, cumming with a deep and guttural groan. You follow suit shortly thereafter, tossing your head back and screaming the priest’s name as you climax.

Jin-woo slumps forward, dipping his face into the valley of your breasts. You reach down to idly stroke at the ebony tresses. The two of you bask in each other’s presence as the afterglow washes over. You were boneless and utterly spent, but the exhaustion was well earned. Sex had never left you feeling so sated or fulfilled before. It was incredible… and tiring.

Your lids start to grow heavy, the promise of sleep too tempting to ignore. As your eyes flutter shut, you feel a strong pair of arms coiling around your waist and lifting you into a sitting position. Your body then becomes weightless, and footsteps echo in the background. Jin-woo must’ve been carrying you. ‘Such a kind man,’ you think.

When your breath evens out and you at last fall asleep, the priest pecks your forehead and peers up at the mural of Jesus Christ at the entrance of the cathedral. Jin-woo addresses the Son of God with a plea on your behalf.

“Forgive her, for she knows not what she does.”

[jsraven7]

This is an odd post, but seeing all the new Hellenic Polytheists terrified of making the Gods angry breaks my heart.

You have to try extremely hard to make the Gods mad. They will not be mad at you for tiny things. You practically have to be intentionally trying to make them mad, or do something hubristic. I wanted to share a story of mine personally to aid others in this anxiety. I know this may be an odd way of helping others feel better, but I really do hope it helps.

I started working with and worshipping Lady Hekate over a year ago. I was in a horrendous headspace, and called out to Her for more selfish reasons. I built my relationship with Her on needing help to do baneful workings against the abuser I just escaped from. Which, really, is a thing a lot of people do. But, because I was in this horrendous headspace, I didn’t go about it the right way. I didn’t do a good job at building Kharis with Her, or giving Her any offerings for Her help. I was quite disrespectful to Her, really. I felt my relationship with Her turn towards something more strained. I felt more negative when thinking of Her, and a lot of the time I felt shut out from Her. Any offerings I gave Her felt disconnected, like a call that didn’t go through. She was not quite happy with me, and I couldn’t blame Her.

The thing is, though, is that She was never angry with me. I could feel our relationship break slightly, and I could feel a wall between us. My offerings didn’t always feel like they were accepted, and our relationship just felt discordant. But every time I sat down with Her with my divination tools and asked if She was mad at me, the answer was always a very strict, ‘no’. Despite how tumultuous our relationship felt, She was never angry. Disappointed maybe, yes, but not angry. I worked closely with Her on repairing the little cracks in our relationship as I begun to heal a bit more from what I asked Her to help me with, and as I got more stable in myself. I dedicated time to devotional acts for Her, speaking with Her, and giving Her offerings with the intention of reparations. Very quickly, our relationship healed. I wouldn’t say it’s perfect yet, but we have a very wonderful relationship now. I clean bones in Her honor, and I love to feel Her presence as I do so.

All in all, the point of this is, our relationships with our Gods are just that—relationships. The Gods will not be mad at you for every small thing, or even for bigger things, like the mistakes I made. Your relationship may feel odd with Them from time to time, but that’s completely alright. Like every relationship, you have to figure out your rhythm, and there’s no sense in a God being mad for you figuring out how this all works. I was very experienced with this all when I made those mistakes, and yet She was never mad. Why would They be upset when you’re just figuring it all out?

Rest easy, all of you. This is a religion, this is life, this is love. Religion is to be enjoyed, to let your happiest self go. The Gods rejoice in Themselves, and rejoice in you. Have fun, be respectful, and trust in yourselves and Them. Love to all of you—be kind to yourselves.