#but maybe I can get a mug saying it and just drink hot chocolate from it anyways lol

[onceuponaladye]

Why don’t they invent teacups with the same prints as mugs

Like if I drank tea (which I don’t) I would have it say “immortali-tea” in fancy lettering

[thelightsandtheroses]

Sweater Weather | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When you pick up a hobby again as the seasons turn in Jackson, Joel wonders why you won’t make him a sweater. Word Count: 2k Warnings: established relationship, pure fluff, copious references to knitting and crafting, references to the ‘sweater curse’ , post season Jackson domesticity, no description of the reader beyond her hobby. Notes: This is just a cosy autumnal piece of fluff to ease back into the fandom a bit. I’ve been struggling with writing and my place in the fandom bit recently but I wanted to take part in @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese ‘s jolabrew with cheese autumn challenge and I’ve recently been crafting a bit and trying knitting and crochet so couldn’t resist this silly little idea,

You used to love autumn. You thought it would be your favourite season forever. You were intoxicated by the foliage in all its glorious shades of red and mustard yellow, even the browns seemed richer then. You remember jumping through leaves in your childhood, a mug of hot chocolate waiting when you got home.

That was Before though.

Before the colour red reminded you of blood rather than leave. It was before the dark meant risk, meant the chance of an infected hiding away and a rational fear of death.

After the outbreak, all of the moments you clung to, the memories you used to savour, it all felt so pointless in this new world where death was always so close, always a shadow around you.

It’s different here though.

Jackson is like something out of a postcard. It’s simultaneously stuck in another time and fully adapted to the outbreak and the need for security.

You sit on the rocking chair on the porch, hands occupied by knitting needles as you try and turn what was once a too small jumper into something useable for you, or Joel, or Ellie. You’re thinking a scarf maybe for Ellie, as the weather turns more, perhaps even a matching hat if you can salvage enough, or remember how to make one.

“Whatcha makin’?” Joel asks, one arm casually leaning against the wooden jamb of the porch. Sometimes he seems to appear from nowhere and you take in his appearance, eyes slightly tired from patrol but still bright and there’s a small smile on his face as he takes in what you’re up to.

“Not sure yet. It was a sweater before I frogged it, could be good for a scarf or hat, maybe even socks if I can … I don’t know if I can make those.” Before Jackson, it had been a while since you picked up a pair of knitting needles or a crochet hook, or even a decent skein of wool but now you can finally indulge in the hobby again. Back in Boston, you can hardly imagine how many ration cards this would have gone for.

“You’ll figure it out, you always do.” Joel says with a smile.

You remember you used to make Tommy, Tess and Joel whatever you could from scraps of wool or ragged jumpers whenever possible. Your proudest accomplishment was a patchwork blanket over several months for winters in Boston. There was no heating in the apartments and it could get cold.

Now you’ve made a number of sweaters in varying levels of success, for the first the arms were so long in you had to start again, but you’ve also made a scarf and an acceptable number of hats - the latter of which you’ve proudly given to Ellie and Joel.

It feels domestic, normal even. Jackson is just different.

“How was patrol?” you ask.

“Tommy and I went up to the lookout, there were a few infected but-” Joel shrugs and runs a hand through his hair in a motion that still turns to your bones to jelly every single time. “It was fine.“

“Good.”

You take a moment to drink in Joel’s appearance. He looks better here. His clothes fit again, his eyes are brighter. There’s part of you that can’t believe either of you are here now, that he came back. That either of them did.

When you all left Boston, you noticed the way he made sure you and Ellie had supplies, had food when it was in short supply. The closer you’d got to Jackson, the more you’d noticed how he started using a tighter notch on his belt, so you tried to share more with him, make it subtle so he didn’t catch on to your intentions either.

He had taken Ellie on from Jackson alone, insisted he’d only be a couple of weeks, but he’d asked you to stay. There was an unspoken promise to wait for him to come back. Two weeks turned into a month and you’d begged Tommy to send a group to find him and Ellie, you’d begged the town meeting every week but they said no.

Tommy thought Joel was dead, you realised. Him and Maria were trying to subtly prepare you, to help you build a life in Jackson of your own. You knew they were alive though, you just knew it.

After a while, you weren’t so sure. You just weren’t sure what it would mean if they didn’t. Your life was in stasis, waiting for an answer that might never come.

The day Joel came back with Ellie, you’d hugged them both before joking that they stank and tried to wipe away your tears when neither was looking.

That was months ago and now the three of you are settled into Jackson, almost. There are secrets between them about the time they went to Salt Lake City, but they’re here. They’re safe. There’s time for that later.

Hey,” Joel says, “you want to get lunch at the hall?”

“Sure.” You place your wool and knitting inside the hallway of your, Joel and Ellie’s home and walk down the porch to meet him.

The two of you stroll down the street towards the main town hall and dining area. It’s cool, crisp and the sound of leaves crunching under your boots is a balm. Joel’s hand is tantalising close to yours, skimming your fingers as the two of you move in tandem.

“Weather’s turning, we’ll need warmer clothes. I think the stuff I made for Tommy and Maria’s baby went down well.” You pause. “Think I could get a sweater for Ellie and new socks for you outta that.”

“Huh?”

“The wool - you asked what I was making.”

“Oh, right.”

“Seth asked if i can make him a sweater. This wool is for you and Ellie though, if you come across anything on patrol, could you- ”

‘Sure.“

Joel pauses, he’s wearing the expression you’ve noticed whenever he wants to say something but he’s not sure. A slight frown, one brow lowered, concentration on his face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure.”

“Joel, I know that face.”

“Seth asked if you can make him a sweater.”

“For trades, Joel, could be useful. I think he mentioned a certain bottle of wine that I’ve been eyeing up.”

“Okay.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve made me some lovely things, darlin’, and I truly appreciate the hat, but I -I know it sounds selfish, but I -”

“You want a sweater,” you say in realisation. You should have known, the last time you knitted a jumper you couldn’t help but notice how Joel had watched you doing it.

“I mean, not necessarily. It just feels like half the town has sweaters you’ve knitted ‘cept -”

“You.”

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s just, I can’t make you a sweater, Joel.”

“You can’t make me a sweater?” Joel asks.

You nod solemnly. “Honestly, I would, but I really can’t.”

“Well, why not?“

“Sweater curse.”

“Sweater curse?”

“Sweater curse.”

The two of you reach the dining hall and you kiss Joel lightly on the cheek before you open the door. “We’re okay, right?”

“Course we are,” he says firmly, squeezing your hand and putting an arm around you. “Sweater curse?” you hear him mumble to himself.

You should elaborate, explain things but in all honesty this is a moment you’ve dreaded. It’s as close to defining your relationship as you and Joel have come in some time. Mostly, the two of you are together and you’re exclusive and that’s enough. There’s no need to put any firmer labels on things than that because the two of you just work.

By the time the two of you have selected your lunch and are sitting at the table.

Tommy’s wearing a sweater you’ve made. Joel scowls for a second.

“What the fuck is a sweater curse?”

Tommy bursts out laughing.

“Rally?” He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not messing with that shit. Not in this world.”

“This world?”

“There are people essentially infected by a mushroom, Joel, I will play ball with any superstitions I need to.”

“That sounds sensible actually,” Tommy says thoughtfully. “So … the sweater curse, huh?”

“How do you know about the sweater curse?” Joel asks.

“Dated someone into crochet some time back.”

“You dated someone … Jesus, Tommy. So what is it?”

“Well you know if you give someone you’re dating a homemade sweater, the curse is you’ll break up.”

”Oh.”

Joel scrutinises you and you feel your face heating. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but I - I would rather not chance it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I know, I know. It’s just I know someone who did make their girlfriend a sweater and then she broke up with them. Do you remember Tamsin back in the QZ?“

“Tamsin was a smuggler and dating a woman in FEDRA, it was doomed before the sweater,” Tommy says.

“Nonetheless.”

“But okay, if you’re really worried, I get it,” Tommy says, earning a scowl from Joel.

“It’s just an urban legend, baby,” Joel says.

“That might be true, but with you? Nope, I don’t want to risk it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he repeats calmly, looking into your eyes and squeezing a knee as he slightly moves you so you’re both facing each other. The distractions of Tommy and the dining hall melt away. It’s like a balm over your body, the fact that Joel is here with you, that he still wants to be with you. The connection between the two of you runs deep and it’s certainly not always run smoothly. This town has been a true second chance for the two of you to achieve something close to normal, and maybe, you realise, Joel can see that.

“You go on patrol, Joel, it’s not as simple as that.”

Tommy looks away and Joel swallows. You watch how he tries to work through his answer, lips slightly pursed as he ponders the rich approach. There’s a freckle on his neck, one that whenever you see it instantly transports you to nights with him and moments between the sheets. You’ve catalogued every freckle, every mark, every scar now.

“I won’t push you on this,” he says quietly. “The gloves and hats are real nice.”

You smile softly, kissing him on the cheek before turning your attention back to your food. The water jug is empty so you decide to go and get a refill.

As you walk away, you can hear Tommy and Joel’s voices still.

“Now I think about it, there’s a way around the curse anyway,” Tommy says quietly, clearly in the hopes you won’t hear them. The years together have led to your hearing becoming attuned to them, to Joel’s voice in particular. You could pick him out of any crowd.

“Oh yeah?” There’s a lightness in Joel’s voice now, that slight teasing edge you love.

“Marry her. That’s the workaround. Honest.”

Joel chuckles. “For a sweater? Can’t marry her for a sweater. That ain’t right.”

“You said you were going to marry her anyway, Joel. Isn’t a sweater just a bonus?”

“Tommy!”

“I’m just sayin’, you said you had a plan.”

“I do and shut up, will you? She’ll hear.”

You freeze momentarily. Joel’s talked about marriage with you to Tommy? You take a deep breath before returning to the table.

“Is it true?” Joel asks in a whisper to you. “I know you heard Tommy and me.”

“Reckon I could ask the same question.”

Joel swallows. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Same.” You pause and smile mischievously, “Say it was true, I take it you have a colour preference for a sweater then, Joel?”

Tag List

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[moonstruckme]

id love to request spencer reid with a shy!reader🙈🙈 i love him sm and your work even more!! if this doesn't appeal to you thats all cool i hope you have a great day!!!

Love you <3

Spencer Reid x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer peers over the top of his cubicle as you type up your report, the mug of coffee he’d brought you still full and no longer steaming. He’s got a hypothesis. 

On Tuesday, he’d brought you a coffee at your desk. It had gone over like most interactions with you; you’d gone a bit red in the face, thanked him profusely, and cradled the mug in your hands like it was the most precious thing in your possession. But when he’d left that night, Spencer had seen the mug sitting on your desk, still full to the brim with dark, cold coffee. He’d brought you another today to see if those results would repeat. He feels a bit guilty for not just talking to you about it, but he’s got a theory and he knows you’d deny it if he asked. So instead, he’s sneaking furtive glances over the top of his cubicle, waiting until enough time has passed to call it. 

“What’re you peeping at?” 

He swivels his chair and Morgan’s leaning his hand on Spencer’s desk all suave-like. Spencer makes a face indicating he should be quiet, but you look up with a quiet “Hm?” and there’s nothing Morgan loves more than exposing him for his schemes. 

“Pretty boy here keeps looking over at your desk,” Morgan says. Spencer turns again, and your cheeks are already getting pinkish. Another thing Morgan loves: bringing attention to you, even though it’s your own personal circle of hell. “I just want to know why.” 

“I’m testing a theory,” Spencer admits. 

Unabashed interest gleams in Morgan’s eye. He quirks an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

Spencer tries to convey some apology in his look, and by the wariness in your features you read it. “You don’t actually drink coffee, do you?” 

The response is clear even before you open your mouth. Your eyes drop to the full mug on your desk, shoulders hunching inward sheepishly and face taking on a fire engine-esque hue. 

“I don’t,” you say quietly. And if there wasn’t already enough apology in your tone, you tack on a quick, “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” he says quickly while Morgan looks between you two and the coffee curiously. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Hold up.” Morgan’s eyebrows go up, and you shrink further. “I brought you coffee just the other day. You’re telling me you’re not drinking it?” 

“No,” you murmur. You look as though you fully expect to be shunned for your answer. 

“Then why not say something?” 

Spencer thinks that’s fairly obvious, but he’s not going to answer for you. 

“I just…” You’ve got your hands in your lap now, probably fiddling with something under your desk in that nervous way of yours. Spencer wishes you’d warm up to them. You’re new and green and always so certain you’re doing something wrong, but he wishes he could pull your hands from beneath the desk and soothe them—soothe you—until you were comfortable. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate it.” 

He can see Morgan ready to dissent, so Spencer cuts in. 

“Do you just not like coffee?” he asks, trying to stay as far from interrogative as he can for your benefit.

You do seem to relax a bit, pulling your stare from Morgan’s eagerly. “I just can’t do caffeine,” you admit. “It makes me too jumpy.” 

Spencer can’t really imagine you much more skittish than you already are on a daily basis, so he agrees that’s for the best. 

“I have seen you drink it, though.” Morgan’s voice is bemused. “In the break room. You had a cup just the other day.” 

“It was decaf,” you tell him softly. 

“We have decaf?”

“Have you looked on the top shelf of the cabinet?” Spencer asks. “There’s a surprising amount of variety. We have decaf, teas, hot chocolate mix—sometimes even apple cider mix.” 

You nod, starting to look less fidgety. Spencer likes to get you like this when he can. It’s an ongoing project of his. Maybe it’s just that it’s easier to relax when the people around you are relaxed too, but there’s something about setting you at ease in particular that makes his chest feel warm and full. That might be something else to look into. When he has time. 

“Yeah, yeah, the wonders of the top cabinet.” Morgan waves this off, as if he’s ever heard of it before (he hasn’t, Spencer can tell). “All I’m hearing is that you let us bring you coffee for weeks just because you were worried we’d bite your head off if you said something.” 

You grimace, but there’s a bit less tension in you now as you look up at Morgan, thoroughly chastened. “Sorry,” you all but whisper. 

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “I forgive you. Decaf only from now on, got it.” 

“Thanks,” you squeak as he turns around, sauntering back to his own desk. Your eyes find Spencer, meeting his for a fraction of a second before dropping to his chin. “Sorry I didn’t drink your coffee.” 

“It’s really fine,” he almost laughs, and the humor in his voice gives you the confidence to lift your eyes to his again. He’s glad for it. “I don’t care, I was just curious why you didn’t like it. And for the record,” he leans closer to the short wall dividing your desks, speaking low, “if there’s anything else like that, you can tell me. I won’t bite your head off the way he does.” He cuts a glance towards Morgan’s desk. You push your lips together, tamping down a smile. Spencer grins too, partly to encourage you and partly because he wants to. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, a new teasing edge to it that he likes the sound of. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

“Great.” He reaches over, taking the mug from your desk. “I’m going to go pour this down the drain. Do you want me to grab you a decaf?” You can’t seem to decide between thanks so much and really, you don’t have to, so Spencer brings you one anyway.

[luveline]

Helllloooo :) if at all possible, could I request a fic for when stripper!reader realizes that Spencer actually like-likes her? Maybe he finally makes a real move or plans a “fancy” date to show her how much she means to him? She definitely wouldn’t believe him at first/think she deserves it, but if it could be a happy ending, I’d appreciate it so much. 🥺🥺

🐈‍⬛ thank youuuu

ty for requesting <3 fem

He smells like coffee. 

"Hi!" you say, bending under the weight of his hug. 

"What are you," —he drags his face against your cheek— "doing here, I thought you were," —his hand cups your neck as he pulls away— "going to Moira's for the weekend?" 

"You sound so happy," you say, nonplussed. 

"Yeah I'm happy. Do you wanna stay over? We can go to the movies, or we can get takeout, we can do both." Spencer beams at you. "Sorry, I'm– I'm rushing. I'm just happy. Is everything okay? What happened to house sitting?" 

"Oh, nothing, she missed her flight," you say. "Can I come in?" 

Spencer ushers you inside. His apartment is cleaner than usual. He's actually had time to clean, it seems, the faint scent of disinfectant alive in the kitchen and fresh laundry folded on the table behind the couch. He follows your eyes. "I did the stuff you left, last time. But I ended up with like, three pairs of your socks? How did that happen?" 

"You didn't have to." 

"Why wouldn't I?" He goes to walk off but stops, twisting around to give you another hug from the side. "Tea?" 

Your face feels hot. "Yes, please." 

Spencer takes to the kitchen to make tea, one of your shared routines. He grabs the kettle from the cabinet, two mugs, and two teabags. You don't know why you stay in the living room as he fills the kettle. He's putting it on the stove when he says, "Oh, hey, I got you, uh– you liked my soap, right? The chamomile? So I got you some. It's in my room, and I got you some of your chocolates from Leaven." 

"You did?" 

You fail to hide your excitement. Spencer waves you away without looking. "They're with the soap."  

You laugh to yourself, leaning down to pull your sneakers off of your heels. You leave them by the couch and slip over the hardwood into his room, where your promised soap and chocolate sit on one of his desks. He calls them your chocolates, but you only ever tried them because he saw you looking at them one time and bought them as a surprise. You've been hooked on them ever since. 

You're thinking about what joke you can make to hear him laugh. Something on the nose about him ruining your future career aspirations or a flirty nothing, maybe. You just want me to fall out of shape so I can't work. 

The suitcase on the bed distracts you. Open, half packed. 

"Are you going somewhere?" you ask him, chocolates and soap held loosely to your stomach. 

Spencer takes the kettle off of the heat, bringing it to the two mugs to top them one at a time. "What?" 

"Your suitcase?" 

His shoulders tighten just so. "Well, there's this convention happening but I hate driving in the dark, so I figured I'd stay up there." 

"When, tonight?" 

"Yeah." He picks up the mugs and shoots you a smile. "But obviously I'm not going now." 

Obviously? Spencer rounds the side of the couch to sit down, murmuring for you to come and sit with him. You follow his order without question, setting yourself on the couch cushion beside him, and find there's little resistance in you to leave space between your thighs. He leans into you as soon as he's able and hands you your mug. 

There's something in his eyes. A warmth. A real affection. "I'd definitely rather be with you here than without you there. Even if there's a guest speaker who's actually managed to split shared arteries between conjoined twins while they're still in the womb." 

"You're interested in that stuff?" 

"Just for fun." He doesn't drink his tea. He probably didn't want any, a coffee mug already on the table, but he always makes two cups. You think it might be so you don't feel like you're an imposition. He's that special brand of thoughtful. 

"Can I ask you something?" you ask, your heartbeat a tangible thump under your skin. It's a silly question guided by a stupid thought, but you have to ask. You've always wanted to see other people's hands, so to speak, uncomfortable with the unknown. 

"Anything." 

You've exposed the most private parts of you and still it's hard to be vulnerable. It's easier knowing you're with Spencer, but not easy. "Do you like me?" 

Spencer doesn't do either of you the disservice of pretending he doesn't know what you mean. His voice is measured but shyness creeps in, an almost questioning lilt to his words as he says, "Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that." 

"I thought you… appreciated the aesthetic of me." 

"I do." He looks at your forehead rather than your eyes. "You know you're pretty, and your dancing, it's– it's pretty too. I think you're beautiful, but that's really not the only thing about you. You've been remarkably easy to fall for." 

His cheeks are suddenly red. A blotchy staining under his cheekbones and up over the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't lie, but the blush cements that he's telling the truth. Spencer really, truly likes you, enough to buy you the gifts that sit in your lap and to cancel trips. He'd rather stay home with you and drink tea on the couch than be anywhere else. 

"Spence, if you think it was easy for you, you have no idea what it's been like for me," you say quietly. That draws his eyeline back to your face. You smile at him gently. "No idea." 

He puts his mug down on the table to hug you. "Careful of your tea," he says, his smile audible.

You hug his arm to your chest with one hand. When he kisses the side of your head, you're pleasantly shocked. 

"I didn't realise," you say. "Sorry, Spence, I never–" Never thought you'd like me like that. "I didn't know." 

"I was just waiting for you to catch up." 

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron making hot chocolate for his little girl 😭😭😭😭 she only wants his and can tell if someone else has made it, and flat out REFUSES to drink it. Reader calls Aaron on the phone during a case and all he can hear is his daughter crying in the background and reader is like “wtf do you put in this hot chocolate??? Coke???????” because reader just cannot get it right despite Aaron walking them through the process of his hot chocolate before 😭 maybe Aaron talks on the phone with daughter for a bit to calm her down and the promise of unlimited hot chocolate once he comes home AHHHHHHH

dad's way

please 😭 and the way i literally had a hot cocoa candle burning as i worked on this cw; fem!reader, food descriptions, brief picky eater talk, girl dad!aaron <333333

"hi sweetheart-"

the shriek on the other end immediately caused him to hold his phone an inch or two away. it was piercing and loud, even for his bad ear.

concern had already swarmed his chest before the cry had ceased, and the room suddenly felt a bit hotter. "honey? is everything alright?"

there was a brief rustling sound, a small clattering of what he assumed was dishes, the close of a cabinet following after. "how do you make your hot chocolate?"

"why-"

"how, do you make your hot chocolate." you interrupted him, your voice distancing a bit for a moment, "dada's on the phone, it's okay."

"oh." aaron chuckled softly as realization hit, his voice filled with a tinge of pity. "someone's upset."

"tell me about it." you sighed in defeat, exasperation clear. "apparently, whatever i make isn't good enough. i've given her three different cups already. three. well, given the third was a reattempt of number one. but with whipped cream and sprinkles. jack too tried to persuade her, but nope. it's daddy's hot chocolate and daddy's hot chocolate only."

"is it in the right mug?"

"the one with all the little ladybugs? yup."

"okay," aaron quickly excused himself - he was still sat amongst the rest of the team, who were silently digging through records - jj shot him a sympathetic glance as he got up. he trailed down the short hallway outside the conference room, in search of a more secluded area to give instructions. "well, i usually-"

aaron walked you through it - steaming the milk, at just the right temperature. adding the cocoa mix, a little extra than the standard serving size. mini marshmallows, and the secret ingredient you had missed - adding a touch of vanilla extract. it was simple, really, but your daughter was a stickler.

she wasn't a picky eater, but was very adamant on how things were made or presented. for example, if two foods next to each other on a plate happened to merge - it was the end of the world. and when it came to aaron's hot chocolate, she couldn't get enough of it. she asked for it nightly, promptly right after dinner. she always insisted on sitting on the counter as aaron made it, watching intently and asking questions on what he was doing. it was their thing together. and more than likely, his absence was aiding to the current meltdown.

"here," aaron hears you say, your daughter's cries lessening for a moment. "this is dada's."

there was a moment's pause, and aaron could easily visualize your daughter analyzing the drink, her eyebrows furrowing in that hotchner way that was just genetic at this point - jack had it too. but as you both already anticipated, another wail produced in response.

"nooooo it's not!"

aaron heard you tiredly sigh, and he was quick to offer more assistance. "want me to talk to her?"

"please."

another shuffle came from your end of the phone, handing it to your daughter. there was a slightly louder sniffle, indicating she was close and listening.

"hi sweetheart," aaron softened his voice, his heartstrings tugging as he silently wished he was home, with you all, rather than a few states away. "what's the matter?"

another sharp sniffle. "i want your hot chocolate."

"i know bug," he consoled softly. again, his heart breaking at her small, upset voice. "but since i'm at work, mom's gonna have to make it for you."

she hesitated, bottom lip quivering. another small wail was quick to follow. "but i want yours."

"i know, but i told momma how i make it, so it'll taste exactly the same, i promise. she put all her love in it too, just like i do. which, do you wanna know a secret?"

that grabbed her attention, her cries stilling so fast it was almost humorous. "uh huh."

"that's the secret ingredient that makes it taste so good, whether mom or i make it. but you can't tell your brother that, okay? it'll be our secret."

"okay."

"so tonight, can you drink mom's hot chocolate? she worked really hard to make it special, just for you." she quieted, still unsure, so aaron switched tactics. "and when i get home, i'll make you two cups. with extra, extra marshmallows. how does that sound?"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Brewing with Beckie

Janine Beckie x Reader

Summary: You go on the podcast

"Hi, everyone. Welcome back to Brewing with Beckie. Today, we have a very special guest...my girlfriend y/n!"

You popped into the frame with a little smile and a mug. You lifted it to the camera and tipped your head a little in greeting. "Hi!"

A kiss was pressed to your cheek as Beckie shifted closer until your shoulders were pressed together so close that if it wasn't for the different colours of your shirts, nobody would be able to tell where you started and Beckie ended.

"So," Beckie said," This is, of course, my lovely girlfriend. We've got a little tradition on the podcast-"

"I know, baby," You said," I listen to every episode. You want to know what kind of coffee I've got." You swirled it teasingly and Beckie rolled her eyes.

"It's more for the listeners. I know what you've got in there."

"Oh, yeah?" You challenged," What have I got in here?" You snatched it away before she kind sniff at it.

"Hot chocolate," She answered easily," Because you don't like coffee and just yesterday you raved about getting that fancy hot chocolate mixture you've been looking for for weeks now."

You let out a little bark of laughter, tilting your head to rest against Janine's shoulder. "Okay...maybe you know me a bit well."

"That's actually one of the questions I've got. How long have we known each other?"

"Years," You said," We grew up next door." You lifted your mug and took a long sip. "We had rooms that faced each other. Do you remember when we used to try to mime to each other through the windows?"

Janine chuckled with a little nod. "And then we worked out that the locks on the windows were just for show and we could have talked to each other the whole time."

"My mum used to yell at you through that window, when we would keep her up by talking too loudly."

"I think she still blames me for your dip in grades that year."

You took another long sip and batted her hand lightly. "Enough about my mother. What's the next question? You've got quite the extensive list."

You were teasing but you knew that she had been preparing for this episode for a while now. You knew that she was sneakily looking at the piece of paper under the table that she was trying to hide from you.

"Hey!" Janine said," No peeking! That's cheating!"

"It's not a competition, baby! I can't cheat!"

"Next question! Ooh, I like this one! What was the first thing you noticed about me when we started dating?"

"The fact that I can be right next to you and you won't hear a thing but god forbid I make a little comment and you hear it from across the room," You replied drily though kept the little smile on your face.

"This was meant to be a cute question!" Janine complained even though she was laughing.

"What would you have preferred me to say?"

Janine shrugged. "I don't know, my eyes or something?"

"Baby, I noticed your eyes long before we started dating."

That made Janine puff up a little bit before she went back to consulting her list of questions. It went back and forth like normal on her podcast and soon your drink had gone cold and you were practically pressed up into Janine's lap.

Ever since you were little, you had been a physically affectionate person. You like to hold hands with people and be in their personal space. You counted yourself lucky that you had such an accommodating girlfriend who easily opened her arms for you to crawl into at the end of the day.

"I like this one too!"

"Babe, you wrote them. You don't need to try and puff up your own ego."

"This is the last question," Janine said," Can you at least let me have this?"

"Fine," You laughed," Go on. Ask away."

"What's the best memory you have of us together?" She was grinning at you and you kissed the smug look off her face.

"You know the answer."

"The viewers don't."

"Oh? So this is an announcement?"

"Only if you announce something."

You stole another kiss from Janine before flashing your ring at the camera.

"Last night. When you proposed, of course."

[soulscollection]

'𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲' 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

prompts designed around the concept of a character having a difficult day and another character arriving to help/support/care for them! i made these prompts on @soulprompts. DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST NOR REPOST IT OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN.

DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

" you look like you could use a hug. "

" please tell me you didn't cancel your plans for me... "

" don't be silly, you're much more important than some tinder date! "

" where's your jacket? i'd like to show you something, and it'll involve a bit of walking. "

" you know i'm always here for you, don't you? no matter what. "

" hey, now... i'm only ever a phone call away. "

" come on. let's get you to bed. "

" i'm listening. "

" hey, do you have any spare pajamas? i'm going to sleep on your couch tonight; that way you just need to shout if you need me. "

" what are your nightmares about? they may not be so bad if you talk about them. "

" another nightmare? "

" hey now, no more apologizing. i'm glad you called me; i meant it when i said any time, any place. "

" you know you're never a nuisance nor a burden. not to me. "

" i'm helping you, and that's final. i'm not taking no for an answer. now. where's your kitchen? i'm making us some comfort food. "

" maybe you think it's your job to look after everyone else. but it's not supposed to be like that. it works both ways. and now it's my turn to look after you. okay? "

" hey, now. you've been helping me ever since we met. it's about time i started repaying the favor. "

“ i’m so proud of you. i know it’s hard to get past these rough days, but... i still want you to know that i’m proud of you. “

“ you know, i reckon our bond is definitely strong enough to endure whatever it is that you need to get off your chest. “

“ it’s alright, now... i got you. “

“ you don’t need to worry about scaring me off. i’m not going anywhere. you can try as hard as you want, but there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me like you any less. “

“ you know, i make the best hot chocolate in the world. seriously, i’ve asked absolutely everyone on the planet. everyone except you... what do you say? wanna make it a global fact? “

“ let’s go smash some stuff until you’re ready to talk, okay? “

ACTION PROMPTS.

[ TEA ]: sender prepares a mug of hot tea for the receiver.

[ BLANKET ]: having found the receiver either sleeping or just lying on the couch, sender gently takes a blanket and drapes it over them.

[ BATH ]: sender runs a hot bath for the receiver after a particularly challenging day.

[ DINNER ]: having learned that the receiver has had a difficult time lately, sender arrives at their door with their favorite dinner and drinks.

[ COOK ]: in an effort to boost the receiver's spirits, sender arrives with all the ingredients needed to make the receiver's favorite comfort food, with the well-intended intentions of cooking it for them.

[ FORT ]: sender builds a blanket fort for the receiver following a long and difficult day.

[ HUM ]: sender hums gently under their breath to soothe and comfort a distressed receiver.

[ WIPE ]: after the receiver has stopped crying, sender tenderly leans forward, cups their face in their hands, and wipes their tears away.

[ JOURNEY ]: noticing the receiver has had a particularly rough day, sender invites them to accompany them on a walk or drive to get out of the house.

[ HAIR ]: as the receiver leans against them/lies in bed, sender begins to run their hand through their hair to soothe them until they relax or fall asleep.

[ CARRY ]: sender lifts a (nearly) sleeping receiver and carries them into their bed, tucking them in in the process.

[ GUIDE ]: sender physically guides an exhausted receiver into their bedroom, following weeks of very little sleep and very high amounts of stress.

[ BESIDE ]: receiver wakens from their first genuinely restful sleep in weeks, to find the sender asleep next to them, having been holding the receiver throughout the night to help them fall asleep.

[ BEDSIDE ]: receiver wakens from their first genuinely restful sleep in weeks, to find the sender asleep in an armchair by their bedside, having stayed there for the night in case receiver had a nightmare or needed them in any other way.

[ KISS ]: as a gesture of comfort and affection, sender leans forward to kiss the receiver on the forehead.

[ HAND ]: noticing the receiver is close to tears, or otherwise struggling with an unseen but considerable burden, sender gently takes their hand and holds it in an attempt to comfort and encourage them.

[ RUB ]: sender gently rubs receiver's back in a soothing motion.

[ TV ]: sitting next to the receiver on the sofa, sender joins them in watching their favorite show/movie on the television.

[ HOLD ]: as soon as the receiver opens the door and realizes the sender is there, sender wordlessly opens their arms out, and gives the receiver a warm, sorely needed hug.

[maxillness]

Braid Me || LH44 x Reader

Warnings: 18+, hand kink (if you squint), sub!Lewis, (kinda) degrading kink, oral (m)

Wordcount: 1.6k

I couldn’t find a gif where he didn’t have braids, so I settled for this picture instead 🤷‍♀️

She was comfortably laid in her bed. Softly tucked under her duvet

She groaned hearing her phone ring on the bedside table. She debated if she should pick it up or just let it ring through

She turned her body, picking her phone up. She looked at the screen

“What do you want, Lewis?” She asked, tone a little rougher than she intended

“Caught you at a bad time?” He asked, hearing her rough voice

“I was laying so comfortably until you called me” She explained, annoyed at hearing his chuckle “What did you want?”

“Can you help me redo my braids?” He asked, a sigh leaving his lips after he finished

“What? Why? Why me, I mean?” She asked, almost rambling as she sat up

“You’re good at it. You’re fingers are small and can handle it better than myself” He explained

“My fingers aren’t small” She said, sounding offended

“Sure, love” God, his voice always did something to her she was afraid to say “So… You wanna help me or not?”

“I hate you” She said as soon as he opened the door when she rang the doorbell “I’m only doing this because you said my fingers are small. They are not, by the way” She said, pushing past him into the hallway

He took her wrist, holding her hand beside his. Maybe her fingers were small, or maybe it was because his were big, but they did look small beside his

“They are small, love” He said, letting go of her wrist

Just keep touching me

It was something about his hands. The way she could still feel his touch on her wrist, or the way he would linger his touch on her a little too long

“Come on” He said, guiding her into the living room “Want anything to drink? Eat?”

“What do you have?” She said, sitting down on the comfortable couch

“Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, wine if you’re lucky” He said from the kitchen “I have some cookies, I think”

“Hot chocolate and cookies are fine, thank you” She said as he turned around to grab two mugs

“Here you go” He said, placing both mugs and the cookies on the coffee table in front of her

He sat down in between her legs, turning on the tv so he would be entertained while she would undo his braids and do them again

She started from the bottom, softly starting to undo his braids. She noticed the way he stiffened at her touch, which he always did, she didn’t really think about it

She also noticed the way he was only focusing on the tv, not touching his hot chocolate or the cookies, which is weird because he had put something about politics on, which he hated

She got the bottom row done, drawing her fingers through the locks, hearing his breath hitch for a second

“What’s the problem, Lew?” She put her hands on his shoulders, making him flinch slightly

“Nothing. Really, it’s not nothing” Never once looking up at him, afraid he would get lost in her eyes and become a blushing mess

“Okay. It’s just that you’re shoulders are stiff and you’re breath hitched” Her thumbs started circling his shoulders, making him hold his breath “I won’t ask anymore” She chuckled, pulling her hands back to his hair

She tried making small talk with him, but he came with short answers or hums

She had finally gotten the last braid undone “Comb?” She asked, holding her hand beside his shoulder

He placed it softly in her hand, shivering when she accidentally closed her hand around his fingers

She started brushing his hair, softly getting the knots out, getting it soft for her to braid again

She knew she promised to not ask again, but she kept thinking about the way his shoulders were stiff and his breath hitched or were held

“Turn around, Lewis” He hesitated, but did as she told him

He sat on his knees, heels digging in to his ass, his hands laying in his lap as he was looking up at her

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes were soft

It was the softness in them that he fell in love with. They way they could light up the entire room even in the middle of the night in a room with no light

“N-nothing” He looked down, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks and down his neck

“Lewis” She hooked a finger under his chin, making him look up at her again

She noticed the way his pupils now were blown wide, covering the chocolate brown in his eyes

“Kiss me” His voice was low, just above a whisper “Please…?” His eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth and back to her eyes

“Lew…” She sighed, subconsciously leaning further down, her hand dropping into her lap

“Please” He said again, putting his hands on her thighs, shifting in his position “I’ll do anything”

She cupped in jaw as his fingers tightened around her thighs. His breath hitched again when she leaned in

He kissed back immediately when their lips made contact. She meant it to just be one short kiss, but when she felt his lips on hers, she didn’t want to let go

She pressed their lips harder together, making him whimper. He managed to get up and into her lap without breaking the kiss

Her hands landed on his waist while his arms were around her neck, pulling her closer into him

Her tongue glided across his bottom lip, and he opened up without hesitation

The feeling of her tongue against his made a low moan slip from him, sending vibrations into her lips

Her hands traveled from his waist, over his hips, and landed on his ass. She squeezed him softly, drawing out a surprised yelp from him

“Please” He whimpered breathlessly, pulling slightly away from her lips so he could speak “Need you” His lips were still grazing hers

“Need me? How bad?” She asked in a teasing tone, lips going to his neck, making him moan quietly

“So fucking bad” His hands went to the hem of her shirt, tugging at it softly “Please. ‘M begging you”

Her hands went under his shirt, her lips away from his neck to pull it over his head and throw it carelessly on the ground

“Is that why you called me over? To get fucking laid?” She asked, hands tracing his abs, making him shiver

“N-no. I needed help with my braids” He said, eyes closed as his head laid in the crook of her neck

“And to get laid” She stated, hands working on his belt, loving the way he rolled his hips subconsciously

“No, but I was hoping” He let out a sigh when she finally got his belt off and zipped the zipper down

“This is not going to work like this” She sighed. She grabbed his hips turning them around so, he was sitting on the couch as she was on her knees in front of him

Her hands went back to the waistband of his jeans, hooking her fingers into both the jeans and his boxers, tapping his hip to lift up as she pulled them down

She helped him get out of the jeans so she could spread his legs and sit in between them, getting closer to his cock

“Just like that, baby” She says softly, kissing the inside of his thigh, earning a whimper from him as he throws his head back against the couch

She licks off the pearl of pre cum that had gathered on the tip, draw a moan from him and a shutter of his hips

She held his waist as her tongue circled around his tip, drawing lewd moans from him

“F-fuck. D-don’t tease. Please. Too sensitive” His hands gripped her biceps hard, nails digging into her skin through the sleeves

“What? Think you come from just this?” She asked teasingly before she resumed her actions

“If you keep going- fuck… Then, yes” His moans were like music to her ears. Music that hit just the right nerves “Please”

She gave in, hollowing her cheeks, taking all of him into her mouth, making him hit the back of her throat

She gaged around him, earning a whimper from him, making her smile up at him, starting to bob her head

“Fuck, please- Ah” He started bucking his hips, meeting her mouth halfway, hitting her throat at every thrust

“Please- Fuck- I’m gonna- Ah. Close” He was unable to form any proper sentence

She felt him twitch in her mouth, smiling to herself, she slowed down, which earned her a whine, but was soon replaced with even louder moans when she swirled her tongue around him again

“Yes- Fuck- Can- I need- I’m gonna” The ‘warning’ was the only thing he got out before he shot his cum down her throat, his whole body shaking

She swallowed all of his cum before standing up. Chuckling at the way he looked. Whole body covered in sweat, his curly hair clinging to his forehead, eyes closed, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace

“You okay, baby?” She asked, leaning down to kiss his jaw

“Mhm” He said, managing to open his eyes “Don’t think I can… Give you one more” He said honest, glossy eyes looking up at her

“It’s fine. We’ll do more another time. Come on, we’ll shower” She pulled him up from the couch, catching him when his knees gave out

“Another time? There’s gonna be another time?” He asked, placing his head into the crook of her neck

“Only if you want to” She said, helping him into the tub before starting the water

“Would like that” He said, leaning slightly forward so she could slide in behind him “Would really like that” He sighed, leaning into her touch behind him

[xcherryerim]

Chocolate Kisses

"Who can love you like I love you? This warm and yet distant sweet dream" - Underwater by Red Velvet

Mike Schmidt x gn!reader | word count: 2.3k

- SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY! -

Warning: oral sex (to reader, no genital specified), penetration, unprotected sex (wear condoms yall pls) , A lot of teasing, facial, porn with plot (also a bit of fluff)

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing penetration in a gender neutral aspect. If there is any mistakes let me know so I can go back and change it. Thank you!

Summary: After another failed date that makes you feel like you will never find love, you go to your best friend's place (Mike), searching for comfort, but he ends up showing you the love you’ve been craving (and also something big and thick). 

You gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white, tears welling up in your eyes, struggling to keep yourself at bay as you drove through the dark streets. You couldn’t bear the thought of being alone right now and drowning in self-pity. You needed to be with someone who could understand, and that person was Mike.

Once you arrived, you wiped away the tears as if trying to hide your sadness and sorrow. You cried in front of Mike many times, even over small things like watching a sad movie. But he couldn’t handle seeing you cry because of heartbreak. You took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. The quiet street made you even more nervous as you waited for Mike to answer. After a few moments, the door swung open, and the sight of him struck you in all his glory. His hair dripped with water from a recent shower, and the scent of minty shampoo wafted all over the air. The dreamy sight of him mesmerized you.

“Hey… Aren’t you supposed to be on another date today?” His raspy voice brought you back to your depressive reality. Mike’s head tilted as you tried hiding your puffy eyes behind your hair. You were praying he wouldn’t notice your pain, but your heart sank again when you saw the look of pity that flashed across his face.

“How do you think it went?”

He stepped aside, allowing you to enter his home, and closed the door behind you. “You know I’m always here to listen,” he says, leading you to the living room. “Why don’t you sit, and we can talk about it over hot chocolate?”

He disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two steaming mugs of the comforting drink. As you accepted the mug, he sat down next to you, his arm resting on your knee, as he gave you a reassuring smile.

“Just take your time and tell me what happened.”

You sipped the hot chocolate, the warmth from the drink and Mike’s pats on your knee spreading over you. “It was just like the others, Mike,” you began, tears welling up in your eyes again.

Mike sighs, staring off into space before he speaks. “I hate when you—“ he starts before his tone softens at the sight of your sad eyes. He searches for the right words as they catch in his throat.

“I don’t get why you keep trying,” he says, his voice quivering with concern and exasperation. “That’s all.”

Your eyes were already welling up with tears, but his words hit deep, and you could barely speak. “Mike—“ you choked out.

“No!” He shouted, clenching his fists and tightening his jaw. “I hate seeing you suffer over the same thing!” Mike’s anger flared, but his emotions weren’t directed at you. Instead, fear and frustration fueled him because of your suffering.

Mike can’t stand to see his friend, the person he loves, hurt by failed relationships repeatedly. He’s frustrated and angry, but most of all, he’s tired of seeing you devastated when things go wrong. Mike wants to protect you, but can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, eyes filling with remorse and empathy as you look up at him. “You’re right. Maybe love isn’t for me.”

Mike’s heart broke into a million pieces as he heard those words. He couldn’t help but feel responsible like he had failed you somehow. As he sees you struggling to hold your tears, he whispers, gently cupping your face in the palms of his hands. “Don’t say that. You deserve love and you will find it when you least expect it.” You stare up at him, trying to believe him.

“I’m just so tired of the same thing happening, and I know you hate seeing me like this.” You try to hide your sorrow with a chuckle, but there is so much sadness behind the apology. “I feel so pathetic.”

Wanting nothing more than to relieve your agony, he reached out gently and wiped away the stray tear from your cheek. “You’re not pathetic, and you don’t have to go through this alone,” Mike voices with determination. “I’m here for you. Here for you, no matter what,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly. “And if you ever need a reminder of that,” Mike grins, “just look at me.”

“Mike— “you began, but he cut you off.

“I care about you more than I can express, and I want to be here for you,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, I can be the person who makes you feel alive, happy, and loved.”

Mike pulled you close, his sturdy figure pressing against yours as his hands gripped your hips. The anticipation and tension of years of unspoken feelings and emotions make every touch more severe. As his lips crashed onto yours, you could hardly contain yourself with the rush of pleasure. The intensity of the kiss was almost too much to bear, but you found yourself wanting more when the two of you broke apart.

“Maybe it’s time to stop searching elsewhere and find what we both want,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s asking for permission.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words in response to his passionate kiss. “Yes,” you rasped out. “I want that too.”

Mike couldn’t help the sensual grin that spread across his face as he felt you nod. “Then let’s explore this together,” he whispered, leading you towards his bedroom. As you entered, he carefully undressed you, taking his time to appreciate every inch of your figure. His fingers traced the curves and lines, making you shiver with satisfaction, your moans growing shallow with each brush.

Mike knew exactly how to drive you wild, teasing and pushing all your buttons until you couldn’t help but beg for more. Each caress became increasingly bolder and more assertive, leaving no part of you untouched. His fingers traced the delicate lines from your neck, down to your chest, across your stomach, and finally stopping at your pelvis. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, his eyes drinking into every inch of you like a thirsty man finding an oasis

He stepped back, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. His gaze lingered on your curves, tracing the lines of his fingertips along your skin as if he were trying to commit them to memory. With a sudden, decisive movement, he pushed you down onto the bed, his weight pinning you in place. The suddenness of it sent a thrill of desire coursing all over you.

His lips traced a path from your collarbone to your breastbone, his teeth gently grazing your smooth skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You arched in response, crying softly as he continued his journey lower. His tongue danced over you, exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh, making the ache between your legs grow more insistent, demanding to be satiated.

As the tension built between you, Mike increased the pressure on you, eliciting grunts and pleasured gasps from you. You trembled under his skilled ministrations, and you found yourself lost in the sensual bliss he was creating. Your gasps, heavy and uneven, filled the room as you surrendered to the moment.

“Mike, please just fuck me already,” you implored, your fingers gripping his hair hard, a sign of the intensity of your desire. Mike whimpered softly, his eyes widening as he lifted his head to look at you.

“I know I am taking a long time, but I’ve been wanting this for years,” he whispered, his tone barely audible over your ragged breathing. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the depth of his desire for you. He released his grip on your thighs, his hands now tracing gentle, sensual patterns on you.

“Please, just let me take my time with you,” he pleaded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want to make this as amazing for you as it is for me.” His words sent a shudder through you, and you nodded, unable to speak, your body asking for him to continue. Mike positioned your frame carefully, supporting your back with his chest and lifting your knees onto the soft mattress. He traced the head of his cock along your slick entrance, taunting and pleasuring you as he edged closer to penetration. His roughened fingertips grazed against your sensitive skin once again, each caress making a delicate dance of anticipation and desire.

As he finally pressed the tip of his erection into your opening, you arched your back instinctively. “Fuck,” you growl under your breath as the pain gave way to fulfillment.

Mike leaned closer, purring into your ear. “You can take it,” he assured you, his cozy voice sending a wave of excitement down your spine. His roughened fingertips traced patterns on you. After exploring your silhouette with delicate touches, Mike brought his hands to your chest, tracing circles around your nipples. His fingers playing around, exploring every inch of you, while his thumb was rubbing your swollen flesh in circular motions.

“If you keep making those sounds, I won’t be able to stop myself,” Mike declared. It seemed you were unaware of the delicate nature of his thrust, considering his massive presence and the way his skilled hands were sending pleasure down your entire being. You couldn’t resist the approaching climax, and yet, you yearned for even more of his touch.

“Harder, Mike, please.” You managed to say it in between whimpers.

His hips rocked forward, pushing his cock deeper into you. The sensation was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before—hot, thick, and demanding. Your form tensed up, bracing itself for the inevitable pain that followed, but it never came. Instead, a wave of intense gratification washed over you, making your entire being convulse in ecstasy as your bodies melded together like two pieces of a broken puzzle, finally fitting together perfectly.

As you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, you cried out his name. The sensation of him being inside you was overwhelming, making you beg for more. But instead of stopping or slowing down, Mike continued at the same pace.

“Yes, scream my name,” Mike growled, his grip tightening on your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of your moans reverberated off the walls of the empty area, filling it with an erotic symphony. His thrusts grew more harsh, matching your rapidly escalating arousal. With each powerful slam, he pushed you to the edge, the air around you thick with the scent of sweat and desire.

Despite your intense climax, Mike persisted, his hips rocking fervently, driving deeper and deeper inside you. Your body convulsed under the overstimulation, your nails digging into the thin fabric of the bed, leaving small indentations behind. Your voice quivered as you implored for release, your form shaking with each plea, but he silenced you with a firm, possessive kiss on your neck.

“Just a bit more, please,” he begged, the scent of his desire intoxicating. His frame glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, creating a symphony of sensations that filled the air. Mike started to mumble incoherent words, his face contorted in ecstasy as he fought to maintain control. It was clear he was nearing his climax. Mike’s words were lost amidst the primal sounds of passion, but you could feel the urgency in his tone, the desperation to find release. His build shook under the intensity of the moment, the muscles in his arms and back tense with exertion.

You could see the struggle in his face, the battle between his body and mind as he pushed himself closer to the edge. Mike’s ragged groans filled the space, while sweat glistened on him. At that moment, you knew he was about to lose himself, his form shaking with the force of his need. You felt his presence twitch inside you, each pulse an indication of his approaching end.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded. Even though your weakened figure struggled to obey he carefully lowered you to the floor, cradling you in his arms before setting you down. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but he held on to you tightly, his hands strong and reassuring.

His figure towered above yours, his arousal still erect and pulsing. He started to stroke himself in front of you, his whimpers soft but urgent as he cried out your name, lost in the haze of his desire. His release approached right after, covering your face and shape in a warm, sticky way. The sensation was overwhelming, a tangible reminder of the satisfaction he had given you.

Mike looked over at you, his eyes admiring the sight of your physique and glistening with his release. His own body trembled as he lowered himself to meet yours, still catching his breath. With a playful grin, he chuckled, “You know,” he utters, his tone low and sultry, “you look better like this.”

His fingers gently moved a piece of hair out of your face, framing it perfectly around your flushed cheeks. The look in his eyes was a mix of admiration and contentment as if he had found the perfect end to the night.

“Asshole,” you responded with a chuckle, returning his playful banter.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, his tone more serious. “I’ve known you for years, and you never looked better than right now.” A gentle kiss accompanied his confession on your forehead, his warm gasp brushing against your cheeks. Despite his teasing earlier, there was genuine admiration and affection in his voice. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling happiness wash over you.

“Let’s shower together,” Mike suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not responsible if we end up fucking in the shower, though,” he added playfully as he made his way toward the bathroom.

For the first time in years, you felt truly happy and loved, and it was all because of Mike. All those unspoken desires between each other were finally fulfilled. A sense of peace flooded over you, making you realize that this is where you belong—with Mike, who truly understood you on a deeper level.

Fin. Thank you so much for reading!

Should I write a pt.2 on the shower or what? >:)

If you only want to be updated on my smut works consider following @xxxcherryerim, I will be reposting my work there.

[imthegayone]

The Goliath

Summary: Roller coasters were never your favorite but when your girlfriend wants you to ride one, how can you say no?

Warnings: mentions of anxiety of riding roller coaster, passing out on a roller coaster, and not the best writing

Author's Notes: I'm very new to writing, but @wol-fica asked for this and tho someone said they had it covered I wanted to give it a try :) I've also never been on the Goliath but I looked up a video and its a hard no for me. But I hope you enjoy and I hope your next cup of hot coco is exacty how you like it 🩵

(p.s. I'm also kinda new to crushing on Jenna so if she's a bit ooc I'm sorry)

Word Count: 892

__________________

When you suggested a trip to Six Flags with Jenna and her sisters, you imagined odd food and maybe a ride on the Wave Swinger. Not a ride that was so tall it struck fear into you the second you laid eyes on it. The Goliath, the name alone made you wanna speed walk in the other direction. Towards the food stand with tables to share a huge plate of funnel cakes with your loving girlfriend. 

The same loving girlfriend that was leading you to the long line of people waiting to experience the thrill of having their hearts jump into their throats. Maybe you were being a little dramatic but the impending doom you felt as you listened to the people scream at the steep drop overpowered any other thought. You were terrified, but the clear excitement Jenna was feeling made you believe that you could be brave enough for her. 

However, as the line shortened and the ride grew taller, you began to question why you agreed to risk your life. “Thank you, I know rides aren’t your favorite.” Jenna whispered as she leaned closer to you so no one else could hear. She knew that you were only doing this to make her happy and the way she looked up at you made you realize just how much you’d to achieve just that. 

“I just hope your sisters don’t realize how sweating my palms are.” You whispered back earning a chuckle as you wiped your hands down your pants for the 100th time. The feeling of her hand slipping into yours brought your attention away from the ride and back to her. A smile making its way across her face that made your heart quicken from something other than fear. 

The moment was broken as the teenager controlling the ride motion for your group to get on. You were feeling confident as love for your girlfriend surged through you but as the safety bar lowered to your chest all confidence you gained disappeared. Jenna grabbed your hand again, gaining a scared but grateful smile from you. 

Creaking as the cart started its journey on the track to the steep incline and your quickened heartbeat was all you could hear. The desperate prayer that the torturous wait would be quick was never answered. The slow trek up the incline felt like hours, the suspense making you nauseous. 

Reaching the peak you closed your eyes tight, the grip on Jenna’s hand turning ironclad. “Oh, fuck.”. 

_______________

Your hands were still shaking as you entered your shared apartment. Your feet mindlessly taking you towards the couch. As you plop down onto the cushions you think you hear the sound of the kettle being put on the stove and cabinets being opened but think nothing of it. 

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the wall you see Jenna enter the living room with two mugs in hand and a hesitant smile. “Hi baby, I made you some hot chocolate.” Placing the mug into your hands she gives you a kiss on your forehead and settles in next to you. You take a sip of your drink, the warmth of her and the chocolate grounding you. 

“Thanks, J.” You sent a smile her way as her free hand played with the baby hairs at the back of your neck. All of the sudden the memories of the last hour come rushing back making you groan. 

“Do you think Aliyah will post that video of me.. passing out?” Jenna chuckles but it dies as she sees you frowning. “She won’t.” The reassurance falls flat as she tries to hide her growing smile as your checks redden. “Oh my god she will!” You place your mug down on the coffee table and cover your face with your hands even more embarrassed than the moment it happened. 

The laugh she was trying to cover up bubbled out as she gently grasped your wrist pulling your hands away. “Baby please, it’s gonna be okay, I promise.” You knew there was more by the look in her eyes. You were gonna kill Aliyah, or at least beg Natalie to give you some embarrassing baby pictures of her in revenge. 

“She might've already put it on her story, only on close friends though.” 

“Oh god. I’m never living this down am I?” The responding laugh was enough to know you were doomed to have that video haunt you for the rest of your life. 

“Look at it this way, now you're truly part of the family. We all have some embarrassing things over each other. You saw the post my mom made when she learned I smoked.” That pulled a chuckle from you, remembering just how embarrassed Jenna was when she read it. She swore she wasn’t leaving the house ever again. 

“See I made it through so everythings gonna be okay!” Jenna says with a smile, pulling you into her until your head is resting on her chest and your body lays between her legs. Your hand slips under her shirt to feel even more of her comforting warmth against you. A hum escapes you both when she wraps her arms around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. 

“Thank you for trying the ride for me Y/n, even though the Goliath took you out.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 16

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“Stop!” August swats you away as you play with his chest hair, “God’s sakes, do you sleep? Why are you in here?” 

“If I was a worm--” You begin. 

“Don’t,” he catches your hand as you reach for him again. “Why won’t you go away?” 

You pout and glare at him as you sit back on your heels. You cross your arms as he closes his eyes and drapes his thick arm over his face. You have that urge again. The one that makes your palm itch. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

He huffs, his broad chest rising and falling, drawing your attention. Despite the mess of feelings you have about this man, from fear to fury to furor, you can’t help but notice how cute he is. 

“Trust me, I’m asking myself the same thing,” he growls. 

“Oh, I have a question,” you pop your hand up as if he could even see. 

“No more questions.” 

“How old are you? Because I’m sensing a bit of a gap here. I don’t mind, though. Older guys are cute,” you giggle and wiggle giddily, “but like you’re handsome. Rugged. Anyway, I just figured that silver hair right there--” 

He rips his arm away from his face and catches your hand, threatening to crush it as he squeezes. You gaze meets his agitated scowl and you smile. You wiggle free of him and drop your arm. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” you preen. 

His forehead lines and he turns his attention to the ceiling. He grinds his teeth as he puffs out through his nose. You admire the strength corded into his thick neck. You lean forward and plop a kiss on his cheek. He snarls again. 

“Well, I’m awake now,” he bristles. 

“Oh, me too,” you chime, “I remember you like coffee, right? After our first time you--” 

“Jesus fuck,” he sits up and his muscles bulge. “Yes, go make some coffee. Just get away from me.” 

“Right,” you turn and bounce off the bed. You look down at yourself and let out another bubbly trill, “do you have something I can wear? Unless... you like the view.” 

He grumbles and looks over his shoulder. He stares for a moment before turning back to face the other wall. He shrugs.  

“Closet.” 

You search around and find the sliding doors. You roll it back and find an endless supply of black button-ups. Not much variety. This whole place is drab. Not the shades of grey that makes people happy. You take one of the shirts and swoop it up your arms. You face him again as you do it up.  

“Oh, do you have any hot chocolate? I don’t drink coffee. The caffeine makes me buzz.” 

“You serious? This is you without coffee?” 

“Or tea? I like tea. Ohhhhh, I can bake cookies.” 

He bends forward and holds his head, “you can drive me fucking crazy!” 

“Oh, pookie, you know I’m mad about you too,” you spin and skip to the door, “I’ll figure it out.” 

You breeze out into the front room and through to the kitchen. It’s tidy. You search the cupboards and find a canister of coffee. You measure it out like you do at home for your dad and find him a mug. All of them black too. This place exists in monochrome. He needs someone like you to brighten it up. 

You take your time and so does he. The pot finishes and he’s still in the bedroom. It’s like he’s avoiding you or something. That’s absurd. He wasn’t so shy last night, was he? 

You traipse over to his bedroom door and peek inside. You get an eyeful of his ass and giggle. He glances over as he pulls out a pair of briefs. Also black. Maybe slate gray. 

“What?” He tweaks a brow. 

“Nothing, you’re just...” you flex your arms as the sleeves gather at your wrists, “so strong.” 

“Stop.” 

“Stop? Well, I’m just saying. You’re thick.” 

“Thick?” He squints and looks down, brushing his hand down his hard stomach. “I work out more hours in a day than you’ve done in your entire life.” 

“I can tell,” you stick your tongue out. “It’s a compliment.” 

“Mmm,” he growls and steps into his underwear. “Don’t you have stuff to do? Somewhere else to be?” 

“Hm,” you tap your chin with your finger, “I haven’t heard from my friend but I’m sure she’ll get back to me. And my mom and dad trust me, they won’t worry.” 

“You don’t have any hobbies?” He says as he shakes out a pair of jeans and pulls them on. 

“Oh, loads. I love to make dreamboards. What about we look at the scrapbook I made you? Or we can make one together.” 

“No.” 

“How about... knitting. I can show you how--” 

“No.” 

“Quilting--” 

“No fucking way.” 

“We could go for a walk? We can hold hands and look at the butterflies--” 

“You are delusional,” he unfolds a tee shirt as he approaches you. “I’m not into all that shit. I’m barely into you when I’m not balls deep.” 

“Well, we could do that too,” you offer.” 

He inhales deeply and rolls his eyes, “I get it, alright? You’re upset. If you think that what happened was so wrong, why don’t you go to the police? I’m sure they’ll be happy to knock on my door.” 

You waver and your smile falls. You’d rather an actual slap in the face than this feeling. You narrow your eyes. He lets the hem of the shirt slip down his torso. 

“Did you know that the majority of victims don’t report. Those that do are rarely even investigated, let alone convicted,” you chirp up as you lift your chin defiantly, “bet you were counting on that?” 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” He exclaims as he throws his hands up, “leave me alone. Get over it!” 

“Get over--” you sneer and bite your tongue.  

You can’t stop yourself. You throw your fist at him and he deflects it easily. You follow with another, and another, but he easily bats them all away. He grabs your wrists and stretches your arms up, letting you dangle from his grip. 

“You are fucking ballsy,” he growls, “you keep this up and you won’t like it when I fight back.” 

You curl your lip and swing in his grasp. You stretch your neck awkwardly and get as close as you can. You snap your teeth down and bite his chest as he cries out and lets you go. He stumbles backwards and you unlatch as he staggers back. He rubs his pec through the cotton and gives you a stunned look. 

“Did you just fucking bite me?” 

“I’ll do it again, you big meanie!” You stomp your foot and ball your fists. 

“What the fuck,” he pulls the collar of his shirt away from his neck and peers down it.  

“We’re going to have a romantic walk, you hear me, Auggy,” you furrow your nose, “or I’ll bite something else.” 

[ppnuggie]

　　　　　　MTMTE x gn reader

　　　　『　rodimus ,, ultra magnus ,, chromedome ,, rewind ,, megatron ,, whirl ,, tailgate ,, swerve ,, cyclonus ,, first aid ,, ratchet ,, drift ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> christmas on the lost light

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack

　　— sorry i havent been uploading as much 😭💔 ive been busy with work and school ,, but im on christmas break so hopefully ill be able to get through the few requests i have sitting in my inbox rn and reopen requests :(( ima try to start uploading more now as much as i can ❤️ heres a little something for christmas though ! hope you all enjoy christmas this year <3

• it was natural for the bots aboard to be interested in human customs ,, having lived in a war most their life . death and violence were something they were quite used to experiencing ,, never really having the time to experience anything outside of the horrors of war itself .

• swerve was one of the few main bots that pestered you often about human holidays . cybertronians didn't celebrate much ,, unless they were a group of autobots who just gave some decepticons a what-for .

• then again ,, swerve usually asked many questions regarding things on earth and what humans do . sometimes you humored him ,, sometimes you told little lies ,, like if you clapped three times in a mall it would be a sign that a tiger was loose . it was quite fun to put silly nonsense in that processor of his at times .

• though when it came to christmas he would not leave you alone . whether you celebrated it or not ,, you still explained the custom in general to him . how old saint nicholas would mosey on down the chimney ,, eat the cookies and drink the milk left out for him ,, and leave presents under the tree lit well and adorned with ornaments .

• you even pulled up the santa tracker for swerve ,, showing him where santa would go and be ,, how on christmas eve he would be flying around with his reindeer and leave presents

• hearing all of this intrigued chromedome and rewind ,, as well as tailgate and whirl . cyclonus didn't understand the hype and belief of having an old random man leave gifts in your house and eat your food even if left out specifically him . tailgate was thrilled though ,, a funny little old man leaving him gifts seemed so heavenly to him . chromedome and rewind ,, however ,, had different opinions . rewind was interested in this human holiday ,, whilst chromedome shared the same opinion as cyclonus . how were you sure this 'santa' guy wasnt gonna rob you ? and when you were sleeping nonetheless .

• rodimus already knew of this tradition ,, as did ratchet and ultra magnus . rodimus was quite ecstatic at the idea of having a christmas party ,, watching christmas movies and sipping on energon . maybe he could even have you sit on his lap ,, all cozy in those soft blankets and sippin on your own mug of hot chocolate .

• ratchet couldnt care less ,, grumbling something about how 'you humans and your holidays and customs' . though he definitely didnt deny the offer of going to this christmas party ,, it was nice to spend some time that didn't involve life threatening situations for once .

• ultra magnus ,, on the other hand ,, was quite picky about how the christmas party should be set up . he even tried to ban home alone ,, saying he didnt want rodimus to get any ideas from the traps in the movie . the last thing he needed was to end up in one the next day . though ,, the many outweigh the few ,, and so home alone was allowed in the movie marathon .

• now when you told him about the grinch ,, he wasnt sure if you were mocking him by saying it was an actual movie or if he should be concerned for what this dr.seuss guy was drawing . i mean ,, have you seen how hairy the grinch is ? or how the whos in whoville are shaped ? pointy noses and all ,, it was quite new to magnus .

• megatron ,, who overheard everything ,, already knew he wasnt going to be wanted at the party . it made sense ,, his past and everything he's done to earth and its people . though when you asked him to come ,, that you personally wanted him there ,, he swore he felt his spark stop for a second . he only gave a nod ,, whilst ravage bickered to him that night in his habsuite .

• whirl ,, to say the least ,, was prepared to fight santa . he was watching the santa tracker ,, waiting for the jolly fellow to pop up so whirl could fly down and bring out the big guns ( that brainstorm recently made ,, not yet tested out or put through a test trial so lord knows what may go wrong) . magnus almost had to throw him in the brig if he couldnt contain his sudden rage and fury for the old man .

• first aid was somewhat interested ,, never having celebrated a holiday before . it would be nice ,, getting together and doing nothing but watching movies all day . he hadnt seen movies from earth that much either ,, besides a few fast n furious ones here and there . needless to say ,, he was somewhat concerned for humans need to trash cars . he cringed a little on the inside ,, watching those perfectly good cars blow up . it was like a horror movie but for cybertronians .

• during the movie marathon ,, whirl tried to sneak violent night and black christmas in ,, saying they were also christmas movies and that they should watch them . magnus ended up throwing them out ,, saying no one really felt like seeing dying people during this one time of peace .

• drift enjoyed the nightmare before christmas ,, the claymation alone was enough to captivate him . then the designs of the characters ,, the music and songs ,, even jack's childlike wonder for christmas matched his own (in a few ways) . during that movie you sat with him ,, sharing a few facts about the movie itself . how long it took to make and how hard it is to do claymation movies .

• during the polar express you stayed with rewind and chromedome ,, snuggling in between the two and sippin on your hot chocolate . rewind enjoyed watching the train on the ice whilst chromedome puffed about how he coulda easily done that himself and saved everyone . you only rolled your eyes ,, muttering out a sure as you fought back a smile .

• during a break in between the movies you noticed megatron ,, standing awkwardly in the corner with his own cube of fools energon in servo . you smiled at the bot ,, walking up to him and having a small conversation with him . you didnt honestly think he’d show up ,, but youre glad he did . he let you sit with him during one of the movies ,, bonding well with the giant bot .

• he was quite warm ,, heat coming from off his body as you huddled close to him . he tucked his servo around you ,, worried you may fall off . for a few moments during the movie you swore you saw him smile at some of the corniest parts ,, or chuckle softly at some of the dumbest jokes .

• you took turns ,, switching between bots during different movies . you would sit in their laps ,, explain little things you liked about the movie playing and share a few things of your own childhood during this time of the year .

• it was nice ,, to say the least . having time to the bots ,, doing things that reminded you of home . it wasnt the same ,, but it was the thought that counted . spending time with them peacefully was more than enough for you ,, and definitely more than you could ask for this christmas .

[slut4thebroken]

Accident

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Dark!Jason Todd × innocent Wayne!reader

Summary | You’ll only let Jason fuck you if he wears a condom… Spoiler alert: it accidentally came off…

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, stealthing, non consensual recording, emotional manipulation, unprotected sex, breeding, first time, corruption kink, slightly painful first time, no female orgasms, lowkey misogynistic!Jason lol, adopted siblings, but like... he doesn't think of her that way and neither does she.

Words | 2.8k

Notes | Yeah… I don’t even have an excuse for this one lmao. Except maybe that someone else gave me the idea💀 (also… THE PIERCING?????)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Other innocent!reader fics

Jason’s thoughts about you weren’t always like this. They started out innocent— just a crush on his adoptive father’s daughter. He never liked to think of you as his sister, more just as a girl he lived with. 

But dying fucked him up in more ways than one. He realized life was too short to beat around the bush and honestly, the longer he was away from you, the worse his thoughts became. That’s why the exact second he made his identity known, he found you. He was tired of watching you from a distance or through the cameras he placed throughout your apartment. He wanted you and he was finally going to have you. 

When he knocked on your door, the second you opened it, he could see all the different emotions you felt. Shock, confusion, relief, happiness. He gave you a sheepish smile and you threw yourself at his body, wrapping your arms tight around him. As he chuckled and returned the hug, his cock fattened up in his pants just from your scent. 

“Hi, princess.” He said quietly, savoring the feeling of your body pressed to his. 

“Jay, I- I don’t understand.” You pulled back, staring up at him through your lashes with wide eyes- your face almost made him come right then and there. 

“It’s a long story.” He said through a quiet laugh. “Can I come in? I’ll make you some hot coco like I used to and I’ll tell you about it.” You immediately agreed, pulling him inside and leading him to the kitchen. 

Only a few minutes later, you sat down, a giddy smile on your face as you smelled the drink. He doesn’t get why you like it so much, it tastes like any other hot chocolate. As you took a sip and let out a long, vulgar moan, he had to stop himself from ripping the mug away and replacing it with his cock. He wanted to take this slow, build up your trust again. It looked like that wouldn’t take long though. 

Only two weeks later, your relationship was practically back to the way it was before he died. Which he was thankful for because he’s not sure how much longer he can wait. 

He invited you over for a movie night, promising lots of pizza, hot chocolate, and cuddles. When you arrived in jeans and a tight shirt, he immediately brought you to his room and gave you some of his clothes, saying, “You won’t be comfy wearing that.” You agreed and he had to force himself to leave and close the door. When you walked back out, his eyes widened at your bare legs. 

“The pants didn’t fit.” You looked at him with a blush, pulling his shirt down to cover more of your thighs. It dwarfed you. The collar was also loose enough that it almost fell off your shoulder. He assured you it was okay and patted the seat next to him, telling you to sit down. 

The second you were sitting, he pulled you into his body, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and using the other one to lift your legs up and bend your knees, then lean them on his thighs. His hand remained on the bare skin of your thigh and he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb, trying to hide a smirk at the way you blushed and squirmed in his hold. The shirt rode up your thighs and you grabbed a blanket to put over you, but he stopped you, saying he was too hot for a blanket. 

As you ate and watched the movie, he was slowly losing patience. Honestly, he’s been hard since you walked out of his room, but he’s doing his best to wait. He wanted you to overthink, to get all nervous and stammer out your words. He wanted to wind you up because the tighter you are, the easier it’ll be to get what he wants. 

So he let you watch the movie, slowly moving his hand up and down your thigh, each time moving it closer to the bottom of his shirt. He could practically hear your heart beating because of how hard and fast it was pounding in your chest. 

“I missed you.” He murmured against your ear, making you shiver and turn to face him. 

“I missed you too, Jay. So much.” You frowned. “Thought about you everyday.” That made him perk up. 

“Yeah?” You hummed in agreement and he gave you a small smile. “What’d you think about?” He purred, smile turning into a smirk. Your blush returned and you playfully hit his chest to reprimand him. 

“Do you always have to make everything dirty?” Despite your scolding tone, you were smiling. 

“Only with you, princess.” He shot back and you stammered for a response before finally just huffing and averting your gaze. “I always loved how easy it was to leave you speechless.” His voice dripped like honey, all the way down to between your legs and you squirmed, pressing your thighs together subconsciously. 

“I- I’m not… ‘m not speechless.” You muttered, embarrassed. 

“No?” You shook your head, making him chuckle. He was quiet for a moment, so you looked back at him, finding him already staring at you.  

“What?” You asked quietly, when he just kept staring at you. 

“Nothin, just… thinking about all the time I missed with you.” 

“Well from now on, we have a lifetime because I’m never letting you go- not again.” You said, giving him a quick hug, trying to comfort him. He gave you a small smile and let his eyes drift to your lips. You swallowed thickly as his eyes darkened and let out a quiet gasp when he slowly started moving closer. 

“Can I kiss you?” He rasped. You nodded breathlessly and closed your eyes, waiting. The kiss was slow, almost tentative, and you tried to just do what he did or let him take the lead. When he pulled back, you whimpered quietly and moved forward, trying to chase his lips. 

“Was that your first kiss?” He asked softly, making you flush and look away from him. 

“I- I’m sorry if it was bad,”

“Hey, no. It was perfect, baby. I like that you’ve only ever kissed me.” He gave you a comforting smile and your anxiety slowly evaporated. 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Makes me feel so special.” Makes me so fuckin excited to feel your untouched, virgin cunt. Is what he wanted to say. 

“Will you kiss me again?” You bit your lip, waiting for a response that never came. This time when he kissed you, he brought his hand from around your shoulder up to cup your cheek. You tightened your grip on his shirt as you leaned up more, trying to get a better angle. Eventually though, he just lifted your body and placed you on his lap, hands snaking up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. When you gasped and accidentally pushed your hips forward, he let out a choked sound, making you pull back. 

“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t,” He cut you off with another kiss and grabbed your hips under the shirt, guiding you to grind on his cock. Eventually your hips started moving on their own as you got needier. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, making you release a startled moan at the new sensation. 

“I need you so bad, princess.” He muttered against your lips, moving to trail kisses down your neck before sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth. He wanted you completely marked, so that there was no question as to who you belong to. He wanted to fucking carve his name into your skin so that everyone would know you’re his. “It hurts, baby, I need you.” He whined, biting the mark, then kissing his way to a new spot. 

“It hurts?” You squeaked, making him pull away to look at you as you kept up the motions of your hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. It hurts so fucking bad.” He frowned, bringing a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, then cup your cheek. 

“Oh… Can I help?” 

“There is one thing you can do that’ll help.” He started, only continuing after you nodded. “You could let me fuck you.”

“What?” You choked out, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“That’s the only thing that'll help. You don’t wanna leave me hurting, do you?” Your brows furrowed at the pained look on his face. 

“N-no, but I- I’m not on birth control.” 

“So?” He grumbled, leaning into your neck again. 

“I wanna help but you gotta use protection.” He bit down hard on the crook of your neck, making you cry out, then muttered a “fine” before standing and effortlessly lifting you. He carried you to his room and gently laid you down, crawling over you and kissing you again. Blindly reaching for his nightstand drawer, he felt around until he finally found a condom, then grabbed his phone from the top of the nightstand and tossed both items on the bed. He pulled back then practically ripped his shirt off you, letting out a low groan at the sight of your tits and lacy underwear. 

“Look at you.” He cooed, trailing his hands up and down your sides before grabbing your breasts. “It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen.” He chuckled and your face heated up from his teasing. Leaning down, he sucked your nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, making you gasp. He released it with a wet pop, then gave the other one the same treatment before leaning up to quickly take his shirt off, then easily rip your underwear off your body. 

“Jay! Those were expensive.” You pouted as he discarded the torn fabric on the bed. He ignored you and swiped his fingers through your folds, groaning when your arousal coated his fingers. 

“You ever put anything up here?” He asked, circling and teasing your hole. You whined and shook your head. “Good.” He growled, ripping his hand away. As he took off his pants and underwear, he tried to think about how much knowledge you’d have about sex. Do you know about foreplay? He was all but praying the answer was no. 

Reluctantly picking up the condom, he opened it and slid it on, trying not to grimace at the feeling. He can’t even remember the last time he’s used one and honestly it’s a miracle this condom hasn't expired. 

“It’s gonna hurt a little at first, okay? But you just gotta trust me, baby, it’s gonna get better.” You nodded, anxiety knotting in your stomach. “Don’t tell me to stop either, I know how much you can take and I’ll know when you need to stop. Okay?” You let out a meek “okay” and he dragged his length through your folds, making you stiffen. 

“Ready, princess?” You stared up at him with wide eyes and swallowed thickly as you nodded. He didn't hesitate before pushing the blunt head of his cock against your hole. It took a bit of pressure before he was finally able to get his cock in, but once he did- he almost fucking came right then and there. 

You cried out, instinctively trying to push his hips away, so he grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed. In his new position leaning over you, he could see now that your eyes were watering. He kept pushing in, even after he met the resistance of your cervix, until his hips were flush with yours. 

“Jay, it hurts- I don’t think I can,” You cut yourself off with a whimper, your face twisted in pain, making his cock throb. 

“No, baby, don’t talk like that. You’re doing so good. It’s supposed to hurt, remember? You just gotta relax and it’ll feel better.” He slowly dragged his cock out, leaving just the tip inside, then slammed back in, making you cry out again as tears started falling down your temples into your hair. He kept up that rhythm, making sure to really thrust in hard so you’d keep crying. 

When you started babbling out pleas for him to stop, he growled and pulled out, then flipped you over onto your stomach. You whined loudly in displeasure when he entered you and gripped the sheets so hard that your knuckles turned white. 

As you started begging him to stop again, he grabbed the back of your head and pushed your face into the pillow, muffling your sounds. Obviously it wasn’t ideal that your moans were muffled too, but he was fucking sick of your bitching and whining already. He fucked you like that for a while, relishing in the pleasure of your tight cunt and your pained whimpers. 

After your begging and crying started to slow, he leaned back up and grabbed your torn underwear, putting them in your mouth the second you raised your head to speak. He lifted you up onto your knees, then picked up his phone and opened the camera to record. His free hand held your hip as he fucked you, keeping you from moving away. After a while, once your whimpers turned into small moans, he pulled out, grabbing his cock and teasingly dragging it through your folds. He slipped the condom off, letting out a quiet chuckle when you whined and squirmed beneath him, then pushed back in.

“See? It feels better now, doesn’t it?” You whined in response, letting out a muffled sob. He slowly dragged his length back out until only the tip was inside, making sure the video caught the way it was slick with your arousal. Letting out a low moan, he stilled and let go of your hip, then waited. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock. C’mon, princess, show me how much you want it.” You let out an embarrassed sound and buried your face in the pillow, but moved your hips back into his anyway. You fucked yourself on his length only a few times before letting out an impatient whine. He roughly squeezed your ass in response, then slapped it hard, making you release a choked moan. 

“Fuck.” He said through a moan, drawing the word out. He slapped you once more, just to watch the way your ass moved, and when he took his cock out again, this time he sat back on his heels and brought the camera down to show your gaping hole. To further your humiliation, he grabbed your ass cheek and spread you open, getting a good shot of both your holes fluttering around nothing as he spat on your cunt, making you let out an embarrassed whine. 

He pushed back in, grabbing your ass with his free hand and guiding your hips to meet each thrust. Part of him wanted to grab you with both hands so he could hold you completely still as he fucked you. But a larger part wanted to keep recording, knowing this would be spank material for probably the rest of his life. The thought had him nearing his orgasm much sooner than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t bother dragging it out any longer. 

Picking up the pace, he fucked you so hard that his balls almost started to ache from how hard they were smacking against your clit. He tried to keep his sounds to a minimum so that his phone could pick up your muffled cries and moans. 

Wanting you to tighten around him, he smacked your ass again, groaning when you jolted and clenched down on his throbbing cock. He hit you a few more times as he chased his orgasm until your skin was pink and you were sobbing out moans. 

Pushing his length all the way in, he let out a low moan as you milked his cock, whimpering into the pillow. When you started squirming, he gripped your hip hard enough to make you let out a pained whine, then pushed deeper, limiting your movement a little. He panted as he came down from his orgasm, then slowly dragged his cock out and sat back on his heels. Moving his hand from your hip to your ass, he spread you open, holding the camera in front of your abused cunt, waiting for his come to trickle out. 

“Jay?” You said quietly, once you felt it. “You used a condom right?” He bit back a smirk, watching it drip down your clit onto his sheets. 

“Oh shit… It must’ve come off and I didn’t notice.” He did his best to sound sincere, but it was more emotionless than anything else. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

“Oh, it- it’s okay. It was an accident.” You responded meekly. 

“Yeah. Just an accident.” 

Taglist

@god-imdelulu @xoxoyourdoll @hizzielover @igotanidea @iabookworm @mrknightt @baebeepeach

[moonstruckme]

Hello lovely!!

I very humbly request decorating the christmas tree with peter and for some mysterious reason he keeps finding reasons to kiss you

the holidays and peter, a perfect combo

-🔮

Hi gorgeous, thanks for requesting!!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 982 words

“Peter.” You’re doing your best to sound firm, but it’s an impossible task to keep the laughter from your tone. “Be careful.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Peter holds up the ornament he’s just knocked off the tree, placing it back in its spot. “I’ve got it, babe, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your stuff.” 

“That one’s yours,” you remind him. “May got it for you last year, and she’ll totally know if you break it.” 

Peter makes a sheepish face, but the facade breaks as soon as you laugh. He surges forward to kiss you, your smiles a mirror. He tastes like almonds. 

“You’ve been eating my cookies,” you accuse. 

“They’re really good when they’re warm.” 

“Peter!” You try to push him off you, but he bands an arm around your waist, freakishly strong. You’re forced to make your complaint against his lips. “Those are for my coworkers.” 

“I’ll leave enough for them.” 

“What, like two each?” 

“Maybe three. I might be feeling generous. Season of giving and all.” 

You scoff, setting your hands on his chest to push him off. “You’re awful,” you say, no small amount of fondness seeping into your tone, “and I know exactly why.” You head for Peter’s ipod, sitting in a mug to amplify sound. “It’s this song, it makes you feral.” 

Peter tracks your trajectory and chases after you, snagging you by your belt loop. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not be so hasty. This is the song of our city!” 

You give him a deadpan look. The song of your city has been on repeat for nearly a half hour now. “We’re not celebrating Christmas in Harlem.” 

“Queens is close enough!” 

“Sorry.” You reach over, pressing skip despite Peter’s hold on you. 

He groans, releasing you. 

“Now can we get back on task?” You give your half-bare tree a pointed look. You’ve been trying to decorate for a couple of hours now, and your boyfriend (adhd personified, bless him) keeps getting sidetracked. 

But Peter’s listening to the intro of the new song, a smile unfurling across his sweet face. He dances his way over to the tree, singing the lyrics. 

Well, you think, at least he’s putting on ornaments. 

You join, and for a minute, you’re wonderfully productive. You join in on the duet, picking your favorite ornaments out of the box Peter had hauled out of the back of your coat closet and placing them delicately on the tree. It hasn’t snowed yet in New York, but you’re feeling so giddy with holiday cheer you’re thinking of going to the corner store after this for hot chocolate mix. 

When Peter whisks you away from the tree this time, you’re a bit more amenable to it, though you roll your eyes for show. He spins you across the living room, his hands warm around yours. He croons the lyrics to you, and you play along, batting your eyelashes up at him when he pulls you close to his chest. 

“The neighbors might think,” you sing in an overly coy voice. 

Peter’s overlaps with it at the end. “Baby, it’s bad out there.” 

“Say, what’s in this drink?” 

“No cab’s to be had out—whoa, this is kind of messed up, huh?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise as he pays more attention to the lyrics. “Are they saying he roofied her?”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “You’ve never noticed?”

“Jesus.” Peter looks so shell-shocked you can’t help but run your hand along his stubble, a comforting touch for him and an indulgence for you as a bonus. He breaks from his reverie to smile down at you, kissing the tip of your nose. “Just for the record,” he says, dipping lower to capture your mouth, “that cider I made earlier was one hundred percent fruit, sweetheart. No alcohol here.” 

“Mmm, guess you won’t be getting any then.” 

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” You smile, and Peter kisses the corner of your mouth quickly. “I seem to do just fine without shady tactics.” 

“I don’t know—” you start to tease him further, but then he nips at your bottom lip and it’s pretty difficult to carry on speaking from there. 

Your hands have minds of their own, one gripping his shoulder while the other tunnels its fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Peter all but sucks you in, devoting his attentions to your bottom lip while he pulls you closer by the waist. He gives the soft inside of your lip another gentle nibble, and the sound that escapes you is so humiliatingly needy that you force yourself to pull away. 

“No,” you say, trying to catch your breath. Then, more firmly, “No. We’re never gonna finish decorating tonight if we keep…doing this.” 

“We can finish tomorrow,” Peter suggests helpfully, one hand coasting up your back while he noses at your cheek. 

“Peter,” you chide, laughing. “We’ve already put it off for too long. At this rate, the tree’s going to die before we get ornaments on it.” 

Your boyfriend heaves a great sigh, pressing a final, consoling kiss to the skin beneath your eye before stepping away from you. “Alright, alright. We’ll get it done.” 

“Thank you,” you say weakly, tucking some string lights more securely into the tree’s branches while Peter stoops over the box. You do your best to calm your heart rate and try to get back into the flow of decorating. 

A second later, there’s a thwick, and you look up to see a green and red sprig webbed to the ceiling above your head.

You look over at Peter, who is also staring up at the mistletoe. 

“What?” His brow wrinkles, and he looks between you and the ceiling with his palms tipped guilelessly upward. “How’d that get there? Damn, sweetheart, I really wanted to stay on task, but you know, rules are rules, so…”

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 5: Hot Chocolate or Tea

Jim Hopper x wife!reader

wc: 0.7k

warnings: literally just tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: Hopper has a special place in my heart and making him happy is the least I can do. Reblog if you enjoyed please, and I'll see you tomorrow for Day 6!

It’s no secret that Jim Hopper is not exactly a happy man. Sure he has his moments, usually when he is around his girls, but the majority of people you ask would say that the Chief of Police generally has the demeanor of a storm cloud. 

That ‘storm cloud’ is currently leaning against the sink in your shared kitchen, wearing a soft worn  New York Jets tee shirt, a pair of Levi's, and grey wool socks. He’s also sporting a comically large whipped cream mustache and pretending not to notice because it makes his daughters laugh. 

Jane’s giggles are hidden behind her own mug full to the top with hot chocolate, whipped cream, and coated with the leftover holiday sprinkles you found in the pantry from last year’s cookie-baking marathon. 

Your youngest, Emmie, though. Her laughter takes over her whole body. It comes straight from her tummy and spills out of her mouth as she throws her head back.

“Daddy!” She yells, “It’s right there!” She tries to point at his face but her shoulders are shaking far too much for her aim to be anywhere close to accurate,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about bug.” Jim takes another sip of his cocoa, making sure to really shove his face deep into the pillow of white floating on the top. 

She bursts out in new peels of laughter and he catches your gaze and winks.

Jane tries and fails to keep in a snort of her own and decides to join in on the fun. She takes a drink and comes up for air with her own, multicolored lip ornament. 

“Janie you have one too!” Emmie yells and her gaze quickly flashes between her father and her older sister. “Mommy look!” She turns to you.

“I don’t know lovebug, I don’t see anything different.” You tilt your head and look back at your little girl. 

“Mommy!” She shrieks and looks at you in disbelief. You have to use every ounce of willpower in your body to not burst out laughing at the look on her face. 

“Emmie, why don’t you show us what you mean?” Jim asks her, a faux look of innocence painting his features.

She looks down at her own Winnie the Pooh mug and steels herself, shoving her face into the whipped cream. She comes up for air a second later, with a whipped cream goatee instead of just a mustache and looks at the three of you before she starts to laugh again.

You quickly run to get the camera sitting on the entryway table next to the kitchen and hustle back. You make it just in time to snap a photo of your family, all sporting some pretty impressive cream facial hair. 

“Alright you three, maybe we drink our cocoa instead of shoving our faces into it.” You relent, grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink next to Jim. You cross the small space to wipe off Emmie’s face before turning to Jane.

The teenager grumbles but lets you clean her off, and you quickly kiss the crown of her head as a thank you. 

Jim grabs you by your waist and hauls your back into his chest, quickly spinning you so that the two of you are chest to chest. He still has some whipped cream in his actual mustache and you use your thumb to wipe it away. Licking your thumb clean quickly after. 

Jim pulls you closer and into a soft kiss that lingers for a moment or two longer than it really should with children present.

“Mommy ew!” Emmie yells from her seat at the table. 

“Yeah guys, ew.” Jane agrees nodding in agreement at her little sister’s sentiment. 

You turn out of Jim holds and pick up your own mug from where it rested on the counter. You playfully stick your tongue out at the girls. Before taking the first sip of your drink.

Your cocoa is more warm than hot at this point but it’s still delicious. And if you make sure to tilt the mug just right so you come out with a cream ‘stache of your own that’s your own business.

“Mommy!” Emmie yells and her little giggling fit starts all over again. 

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown, Aziraphale’s SAD-ASS desk, and how they get to 'Our bookshop' in S2

Welcome to part 2 of me reading reeaally far into the Good Omens: Lockdown video! (part 1 from Crowley's POV here) This post assumes the item choices in the Lockdown visuals are intentional. What follows is going to be my headcanon regardless, but if you're into the Word of God, Lockdown is canon 'If you want it to be.' and I want it to be, sooo checkmate! >;D

Also this is something of a long boi (~13 minute read without following the links >.>), so if you're into unhinged analysis of details and literary references that indicate Aziraphale is in his longing era and want to learn more about author and fave-of-Gaiman, G.K. Chesterton, either get comfy or mark this to read later when you have time!

C: What? A: *somehow surprised even though HE CALLED* A-ah, hello. It's me! C: I know it's you, Aziraphale. A: *regaining composure* Yes, well, just calling to see how you were doing in lockdown.

The video starts with shots of Aziraphale and Crowley's da Vinci sketches (and some sushi remnants)... Babygirl is flipping through the time-goes-too-fast-for-me version of a facebook album, thinking about his crush. vERY chill of him. (also the paper looks new and he's eating on top of them, suggesting these are prints and he has multiple copies of them... sooo normal)

If we look closer at the still of Crowley's portrait, we can see part of the spine of a book that reads Kei- Chesterto-. This is, of course, author Gilbert Keith Chesterton, to whom Neil and Terry (and Crowley) dedicated Good Omens:

The authors would like to join the demon Crowley in dedicating this book to the memory of G. K. Chesterton A man who knew what was going on.

In this post by @azfellandco about Chesterton, you can see a photo of the dedication page and also read the book excerpt where Crowley describes Chesterton as 'the only poet in the twentieth century to even come close to the Truth'.

C: I'm bored. I'm so very very bored - transcendentally bored. There's nothing to do here!

As Crowley is explaining his nap contingency plan, we get a shot of Aziraphale picking up his mug of hot chocolate, then the image below of the 2/3rds gone bottle of Courvoisier cognac (i mean maybe he is baking with it let's not jump to conclusions), and then the stack of books beside a framed woodcut print of witches dancing with devils...

...that I used reverse image search to trace back to page 17 of a book from 1720 called The history of witches and wizards: giving a true account of all their tryals in England, Scotland, Swedeland, France, and New England; with their confession and condemnation.

Interestingly, the text above and below the picture reads:

At their Meeting they have usually Wine, or good Beer, Cakes, Meat, or the like; they Eat and Drink really: When they meet in their Bodies, Dance also, and have Musick...

Beside the framed print of Aziraphale's idea of a really great night out is a stack of books that includes (going from top to bottom):

Homer's The Iliad, Book 2

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

Forbidden Rites: A Necromancer's Manual of the Fifteenth Century by Richard Kieckhefer

a book by Hilaire Belloc with no visible title

The Club of Queer Trades by G.K. Chesterton

The Iliad (according to sparknotes) has the following major themes:

....Interesting, ok. Book 2 in particular starts with a god (Zeus) messing with someone (Agamemnon) via a dream that says he will be successful in taking Troy if he launches a full assault, balls to the (city) wall. Agamemnon, who is supposed to be leading the Achaean army to conquer Troy, believes the dream but then in a weird twist decides to test his army and be like 'jk actually I'm giving up and going home' and then is mad when the soldiers are like 'sick, to the boats!' Then Odysseus, who sparknotes tells me is the most eloquent of the Achaeans, gives an impressive speech to inspire the troops and reminds them that they vowed 'that they would not abandon their struggle until the city fell.' ...No way that could worsen Aziraphale's internal conflict about being a bad Angel who thwarted the Great Plan. >.>; Orthodoxy we'll get to in a second.

Then there's Forbidden Rites which is a medieval necromancy guide translated from Latin with added commentary - Aziraphale is perhaps studying occult topics in an attempt to understand Crowley better? And then there's the Hilaire Belloc book on top of the second Chesterton book, a collection of related stories/episodes?, The Club of Queer Trades. The book's Wikipedia page says:

Each story in the collection is centered on a person who is making his living by some novel and extraordinary means. To gain admittance [to the Club of Queer Trades] one must have invented a unique means of earning a living and the subsequent trade being the main source of income.

Aziraphale and Crowley have rather novel/extraordinary jobs and they're both peculiar-queer and gay-queer. Neat. The narrator in the book is named Charlie "Cherub" Swinburne - also neat. >.> He goes on an adventure with his friend, a retired judge and president of the Club of Queer Trades, Basil Grant, (who Oct 2021 GoodReads reviewer Cecily said is "described as mad, mystical, and a poet, with almost no friends, but who “would talk to any one anywhere”) and Basil's younger brother, a private detective named Inspector Constable Rupert Grant. The last line of the book is:

Thus our epic ended where it had begun, like a true cycle. (something something "It starts, as it will end, with a garden.")

Anyway, the Belloc book and The Club of Queer Trades are placed back to back in such a way that they almost look like they could be one book with two different aesthetics, or... two halves of a pantomime beast?! (stay with me I needed a segue)

Belloc and Chesterton have what is essentially a ship name:

It was coined by George Bernard Shaw (if you are like me and didn't know why you've heard of him: he wrote, among other things, Pygmalion, which was adapted into My Fair Lady). Shaw apparently liked to gossip about Belloc and Chesterton with H.G. Wells (again if you're uncultured like me: he wrote, among other science fiction-y things, The War of the Worlds).

In the Feb 15, 1908 issue of The New Age newspaper, Shaw said:

He continued:

"Chesterton and Belloc are so unlike that they get frightfully into one another’s way. ... They are unlike in everything except the specific literary genius and delight in play-acting that is common to them, and that threw them into one another’s arms.”

Shaw says Belloc is 'a bit of a rowdy', and 'cannot bear isolation'. Hmm. Then he says Chesterton is 'friendly, easy-going, unaffected, gentle, magnanimous, and genuinely democratic'. HMM.

“They share one failing—almost the only specific trait they have in common except their literary talent. That failing is, I grieve to say, addiction to the pleasures of the table.”

Ok ok I think we can see where this is going.

(^ from Staged S3E6)

Now, someone did ask Neil Gaiman about this similarity, and he said the Lockdown video was filmed by Rob Wilkins in Terry Pratchett's library, and that he suspects 'Belloc is there because he was on Terry's shelves beside Chesterton.' And it MAY VERY WELL BE that NONE (0) of the book titles are meant in any way other than 'these are books from Sir Pratchett's library that looked nice on camera and ofc we wanted some Chesterton refs and maybe some demon-y stuff for Crowley' but that is WAY less fun so I am choosing to take them as intentional: these are books Aziraphale is actually reading (along with the sushi and many cakes he is actually eating). Let's put ourselves in Aziraphale's shoes and try to imagine how it would be to read this stuff during lockdown while you pine for a demon with slinky hips after you got in big trouble at work for Armageddoff (and work happens to have defined your worldview and general purpose in life).

C: welll... ngk then people might follow my bad example and get ill. Or even die—

As Crowley acknowledges that he ought to be out making peoples' lives worse, we see Orthodoxy by Chesterton open on the desk.

Orthodoxy is described as a ‘spiritual autobiography’ and is considered a classic of Christian apologetics, i.e. the religious discipline of defending religious doctrines (in this case, Catholic) through systematic argumentation and discourse. Wikipedia also says Chesterton's The Everlasting Man contributed to C.S. Lewis' conversion to Christianity, so overall it sounds like he must've been fairly convincing. (and so maybe reading it also poked at that work-related-but-religious-trauma-adjacent stuff Aziraphale has going on?)

You can read Orthodoxy (and probably any of the books I mention bc theyre all old) on project gutenberg but I will include this part of what is shown on the righthand page bc it just reminds me (and so probably Azirapalala as well) of a certain angel squeaking happily at a nebula:

"I felt economical about the stars as if they were sapphires (they are called so in Milton's Eden): I hoarded the hills. For the universe is a single jewel, and while it is a natural cant to talk of a jewel as peerless and priceless, of this jewel it is literally true. This cosmos is indeed without peer and without price: for there cannot be another one."

Ok great, so Aziraphale is diving into the works of one of Crowley's favorite authors bc he misses him, that's cute. What else? Oh he already wrote him a letter right before calling - THE WICK ON THE WAX STICK FOR THE SEAL IS STILL SMOKING. sO CASUAL asdashgfjds

something something 'either call on the phone and talk, or appear mysteriously; don't do both'

When Aziraphale gets to 'I've never had so few customers, not in two hundred years!' We get a close up of this glass of cognac with droplets still on the side — I take back what I said about baking, Aziraphale is drinking it~

He's not drinking a wine, eg Châteauneuf-du-pape, which would be ~14% alcohol by volume (ABV), or a sherry (15-20% ABV); he is drinking Courvoisier cognac, a hard liquor (40% ABV). Crowley's Talisker whisky is 48.5% while we are on the topic. This is stronger than what Aziraphale usually drinks which means... he could be a bit tipsy.

As Aziraphale starts talking about the would-be cash-box burglary, we get this wide shot of the desk:

In the top left hand corner, we see two stacks of books, most (all?) of which appear to be Chesterton when I zoom in. Some of them have Chesterton's name visible on them, others have the publisher name 'Darwen Finlayson' on them, which according to my googling is a house that published several of Chesterton's works. If Chesterton was truly 'a man who knew what was going on', then perhaps this is Aziraphale seeking not just to feel closer to Crowley, but also to make sense of the warring ideas in his mind. Interestingly, Chesterton has also been described as 'The Eccentric Prince of Paradox'.

C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth?

The screen then shows two occult-y books and a flickering candle (lower left image). Then Aziraphale explains about his cake~, and as Crowley cuts him off because he's about to nervously ask to come over bc he is so so lonely & down bad for a certain angelic bookworm, we see a map of Oxfordshire on top of Pilgrim's Progress (lower right image).

The two books beside the candle are Satanism and Witchcraft (presumably the 1862 book by Jules Michelet that comes up when I search the title), and another called Magic: An Occult Primer.

Satanism and Witchcraft is described on Wikipedia as 'notable for being one of the first sympathetic histories of witchcraft' and says 'Michelet was one of the first few people to attempt to show the sociological explanation of the Witch Trials.’ Sympathy for people who like to eat/drink/dance with demons, if you will?

Magic: An Occult Primer is a 1972 book by David Conway, a Welsh (CACHU HWCH!) magus and is described as 'a seminal work that brought magical training to the every-magician'. It also includes an appendix called The Occult Who's Who, which is somewhat reminiscent of Hastur's Furfur's book about angels. In Chapter 11: A Word About Demons, it says in regard to summoning them:

"Assuming that the form has turned up in the right place, it will soon begin to act and talk in a very friendly manner; do not forget, however, that its winning ways conceal a sinister intention-- namely, to get the adept out of the circle, and into its clutches.”

...okay?? Aziraphale's desk has a flickering candle on it throughout the video, and we get a close up of the flame when Crowley offers to slither over:

and just like that, Aziraphale has summoned a demon~~

Naturally, he freaks out:

A: *panicking*Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over.

But why? Isn't this what he wanted? Let's go back to the Pilgrim's Progress shot from right before the successful demon summoning and zoom in:

In a similar vein to Orthodoxy, Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, is an allegorical Puritan conversion narrative. Christian is the main character / stand in for anyone who wants to be in the allegory and Hopeful is well, hopeful, from what I gather. A slightly larger continuous excerpt is here for the curious, but here are some bits I thought were especially interesting in the part of the book shown above:

Christian: Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again? Hopeful: Many things; as, If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, If I have heard any read in the Bible; or, If mine head did begin to ache; or, If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick; or, If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or, If I thought of dying myself; or, If I heard that sudden death happened to others; But especially when I thought of myself that I must quickly come to judgment.

Perhaps the pandemic is bringing Aziraphale's "sins" to mind again, on top of the whole choosing faces thing to avoid 'quickly coming to judgment'. And then:

Hopeful: I thought I must endeavor to mend my life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be lost forever. Christian: And did you endeavor to mend? Hopeful: Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbors, etc.

UM??? While I can't say about the praying or weeping for sin, he has definitely been reading and the whole 'giving a good talking to' the burglars could be 'speaking truth to [the] neighbors'...?

Anyway to recap:

Aziraphale has been poring over books about dark magic and demons as well as a ton of books by an author that Crowley loves and who formed a partnership w a very different person in a sort of yin-yang, pantomime beast situation

He has been looking at pictures that remind him of their fun times w Leo in Florence and eating sushi and cake cake cake (and forgiving sinners) and drinking hot chocolate and cognac trying to fill a void but now he's tipsy so he wrote Crowley a letter, stamped it with a wax seal and then thought 'I should call her' BUT

His recent brush with attempted death penalties, the death toll of the pandemic, and some of the religious books he was reading have also filled him with guilt/fear over disobeying Heaven, who he knows could still be watching him and Crowley, so he feels much more conflicted than usual AND

He probably has some inkling that he wants to go ape shit on that ox rib if it comes over to hang out (lol editing to add bc i remembered ox rib discourse: ape shit in an emotional way! whether you hc them as ace or not I just think he really likes him and I’m using ox ribs as a stand in for general forbidden joy/love, not specifically sexy stuff)

So he has to say no.

Anything else might cause him to spontaneously discorporate into a plume of pining and cognitively dissonant gay smoke, which may be all well and good if you only think there's a God, but if you KNOW it and the angels are absolutely recording you and Heaven just tried to kill you and your wife colleague, it's... kind of a big deal.

C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

We don't get to hear Aziraphale's response, but besties you and I both know he is not feeling tickety-boo. He spent like a month putting off calling Crowley (UK lockdowns started end of March, the call is at the beginning of May), finally got drunk and said what the Hell, it'll just be a fun flirty chat in between his temptations, and then it turned out Crowley was depressed and not going anywhere and Aziraphale made him even sadder. And then it got worse because it wasn't all over in July, or in October, even.

I think Aziraphale ends up with a lot of time and brain space in which to think about how Orthodoxy and Pilgrim's Progress were only written to guide *mortals* and how it really wouldn't be so bad if he spent more time with Crowley, would it? Heaven hasn't reached out in actual years again, things feel safer. Crowley is essentially Good and spending time with him would be sort of ministering to the downtrodden and afflicted, and Aziraphale does miss reporting his good deeds (lol you know, whatever rationalizations you need to get you there).

More than anything, he thinks about how hollow everything feels without Crowley; how no mouthful of food or drink tastes as satisfying in his absence because it wasn't ever just about the 'gross matter'...

So when lockdowns end, Aziraphale begins to summon his demon again, but this time with much less inner struggling. It all comes so naturally, when you let it. By the beginning of Season 2 in 2023, they seem delightfully comfortable with their shared routines and places (see also this lovely post by @nightgoodomens). Our car. Our bookshop.

Aziraphale might take longer to catch up, but he does get there.

(SHHH DON'T THINK ABOUT EPISODE 6! STOP! I'M HANGING UP!)

“The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.” ― G.K. Chesterton