#but they proved to be maybe a bit too much for him as they liked to find fun new fucked up ways to create life

[crimsonmochi]

Prompt. Full-heartedly believe Choso is the goodest most pathetic boy for his partner ever. And not just when it comes to sex, just everything. He just loves you so much :( I can't prove it, but I can write about it. Smut included.

Choso, who just doesn't know what he would do if you weren't there. I mean, this boy gets lost so easily because of how much he wanders, he has to call you because he gets upset and has zero sense of direction.

"I don't know how to get home."

"Why did you leave?"

"I saw a kitty and I wanted to pet it."

Choso, who pouts, and he pouts a lot. He pouts when he doesn't understand something you're explaining, he pouts when he wants something, and he pouts when he doesn't get what he wants. Will act like you killed his whole family if you don't give him kisses right now.

Choso, who needs to be touching you at all times in some way, or he panics and thinks you don't love him anymore. The first time you gently push his hand away from your waist in public due to being overstimulated at the mall, he nearly has a breakdown going over every single thing he's said and done in the past week.

He told Yuji about it the next day, explaining that he will literally end his life if you leave him and telling him he had to help.

"Just make some sort of big gesture. You should be fine."

Choso decorated your bed with some flower petals the next day, found out he was allergic to pollen, and was sneezing throughout his apology. Apology you didn't know was for, but you forgave him regardless, nursing him back to health in your arms until he didn't have the sniffles from the pollen anymore.

Choso who was a virgin when you met him and remained one for a good part of your relationship, entirely confused when his dick would get hard when you held his hand? Love, why does it do that? It hurts. He couldn't look you in the eye for a bit after you had explained it, embarrassed and flustered.

Choso had to be shown everything bit by bit. He complained when you showed him porn because it's not you, so why would I watch it. Makes no sense.

Choso who, after that session, tried to masturbate, but it wasn't working. He was clumsy with his movements, too needy and eager, and didn't even know what he was supposed to be chasing. Until he thought about you smiling at a joke he made earlier, and before he knew it, he came all over your bedsheets.

Choso tried to hide what happened from you but couldn't lie when you asked why he was hauling your bedsheets into the washing machine on a weekday, meekly trying to put together the situation with words. After explaining, he asked if he needed to go see a doctor.

"That's normal, babe."

"Are you sure? Felt like I got possessed for a moment, maybe we have a ghost."

He couldn't understand why you laughed at that but was thankful for the reassurance that he wasn't dying.

Choso, who begged you to take his virginity a month later, whining about the wet dreams he had been having about you, confused about what it meant, but it had to mean something.

Choso spent an hour just feeling and looking at your body, unsure where to place his hands, where you liked being touched, where you didn't. He spent so much time asking questions, wanting to please and be good for you, that he only remembered how desperate he was when you finally took control, something blooming in his stomach as you gave him orders.

Choso, who discovered he cums fast and from almost nothing. He shuddered when you took his length in your hand, his back arching off the mattress as a soft whimper escaped his lips, shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

Choso, who discovered that going down on you was his favourite thing to do of all time. For a week straight, that's all he wanted to do; he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just stay under him all the time as he feasted. Has orgasms from it, too, completely untouched, just whining and moaning between your legs like a kicked puppy.

Choso, who pouts at you when you don't let him give you head.

Choso, who loves to be called a good boy, lives for it. In and out of the bedroom, it's like you saying "I love you" to him. Honestly has a bad day if you don't say it.

He is your good boy, and you will call him that.

Choso, who refuses to brat out because how can he be your good boy if he acts up. Days are filled with "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," and "right away." If anyone were to witness, they'd think you're running a tight ship military, but it's just your handsome man on his best behaviour as always.

Choso, who never argues. Not because of anything in particular; he's just not wired that way. He listens too well, is in tune with your emotions and his, and adapts fast. He just wants to make your life easier, and if you want the trash taken out at 8:31 instead of 8:30, then he'll be damned if he doesn't make that happen.

Choso, whose personal therapy is laying his head in your lap while you braid a strand or two. He loves the gentle tug on his scalp, loves your fingers in his hair, and loves to look up at you and see how focused you are.

Choso, who needs to feel helpful and wants you to depend on him the same way he depends on you, sometimes goes out of his way to make himself feel indispensable because he likes how it makes him feel. Once stole your schedule only to memorize it and recite it by heart when you mysteriously couldn't find it, the biggest smile on his face when you thanked him.

Choso, who could make out with you for hours on end just to feel your fingers playing with his baby hairs once. Nearly gets off on it.

Choso, who likes to shower with you only for the soap and shampoo part. He likes to be taken care of, your hands on his body as you lather him up properly, his eyes closed and his mind sleepy. Double points if you're taking a bath instead.

Choso, who lays in bed every night with you and tells you he loves you, why, for what traits, for what you give him and what you make of him.

Choso, who could write a whole essay about you, would never be done, could never run out of things to say.

Choso, who just loves you so much, needs you forever, no matter what.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[thedissonantverses]

The Solas Problem:

A Lesson in Narrative Tension in DATV

This isn’t a Solas critical write-up, nor is it positive. It’s only an essay on how narrative tension works. We take Solas as he is here. Media Literacy 101 is back in session under the cut.

TL;DR: Giving Solas more screen time would have stripped Veilguard of one of its best parts. Solas.

“No real god need prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying.”

We actually have two major problems with Solas right off the bat. The first is power. The power creep on this man is absurd. He’s been around for thousands of years and his magic has affected the fabric of reality in Thedas. He can kill people in their dreams. He can turn people to stone with his mind. The blight. Just…the blight. Altering the course of history is what he does best.

When we first meet him in Inquisition he is a considerable threat but not anything special for Thedas. In his reveal in Tresspasser he sent chills down my spine. In Veilguard he’s had years to accumulate enough power to tear down the Veil. If it had been a real fight with Solas in the beginning Rook would have been obliterated.

Even if Solas was an ally, it wouldn’t work. This is very similar to why Superman had kryptonite because he’s already overpowered without it. If Solas is around the whole game pulling Rook out of every fight, Veilguard would suck. It’d be so boring. There is no good way to deal with his raw power without trapping, severely injuring, or putting him to sleep or on a side quest the whole game. Put a pin in this, we’ll get back to it.

The second large writing problem with Solas is he is ruthless. This man clearly follows his own rules and he’s survived a long time against enemies many more times more powerful than the Veilguard. It’s why Rook and the team seem so “nice” in comparison. None of them would have stabbed their friends for the greater good. None of them could or ever would do what he and Mythal did to the Titans. Whatever his motivations are at any given moment are largely driven by his own sense of right or wrong. He does have one. It’s just not the same as us mortals’. Run afoul of his moral code and you’re dead.

I’m going to go on a bit of an aside but I promise it’s related. The first Alien movie is a good horror move, in part to a technique movies use to great effect. Tease your audience. The reason they don’t show the alien too much is because it would look fucking goofy. No matter how good your effects were back then, a human in a suit moves like a human in a suit. What that movie does really well in its horror is show glimpses of the man in the mask but not the whole thing at once. Let the audience’s minds fill in the gaps.

That’s what Veilguard is doing with Solas throughout the game. We know Solas is powerful. But the first time we see him it’s him failing. Then he’s trapped in time and space. We get echoes of what he can do. We don’t fully realize how powerful until you see him flinging blight back in Minrathous with the same amount of effort a regular character would use to shoot their bow. We get glimpses of his deeper motivations and foibles, but we don’t feel what’s it’s truly like to be in his way until Tearstone Island. We don’t learn about Varric until the wolf has already cornered us.

So why did they trap him?

Trapping Solas in a prison of his own design, where the key is regret, is excellent character work. We know Solas doesn’t see himself as the villain. We know he’s the type of man who thinks of himself as not just Elgar’nan’s equal, but his better. Which, maybe he is, but he is still a self-righteous man with rivers of blood on his hands who was ready to destroy the world Thedas has become in order to restore a past that can never be again. Solas is static. Unyielding. Frozen by regret. He won’t change to suit the world, he will change the world to suit him.

The examples used of how Solas could be dealt with work, but to varying degrees depending on how well they’re executed. Why matters as much as how. What the writers did was look at Solas’ prior character work and pick the best one to suit him. The way they executed this solves multiple problems at once, using the character’s own fatal flaw against him.

It’s a simple solution, really.

[moonshynecybin]

honeysuckle: how our love unites enemies

honeysuckle:

scream okay i just edited some of airport au before getting these so it was rattling around in my head. and this ask made me think it would be funny if casey stoner showed up. so here. bad comedy. for those who do not remember last we left marc “the weirdest rumor i ever heard about myself was that i was gay” marquez, he had just had a sex dream about valentino rossi, who has recentlyish decided to be his friend again. as you can imagine he’s a bit confused about all this:

Marc decides that he should probably avoid Valentino for a while, after a dream like that. Get some distance and get his head on straight.

The problem is, Valentino apparently very much does not want to avoid Marc.

It’s in the chaos of the flyaways, that long slog at the end of the season, and Marc doesn’t have anything to prove at this point except for all the different things that he does, and it’s Phillip Island, a track where he can make a difference. He knows he has an opportunity where he can really sink his teeth into something here.

All said, it’s his favorite track, he’s looking forward to the weekend— and he’s really looking forward to approximately 9,000 miles between him and Valentino Rossi and his long fingers.

Which of course means that when he wheels around a corner on his scooter that Friday, he doesn’t expect to see Vale standing next to the media center with a day old scruff decorating the cut of his jaw and Casey goddamn Stoner bitching away about aero at his elbow.

Marc, shocked and in his raincoat, applies the brake to his scooter in an acute fashion and skids a little, motocross style.

Vale, under his neon yellow umbrella and always attracted to the sound of screeching rubber, sees him.

He starts walking.

Horrifically, Casey follows.

Marc smiles.

“I’ve been cornered.”

“Put your hands up in the name of the law,” Vale says in a terrible imitation of a cowboy, and then greets him. “Ah, you are ready for tomorrow?”

Marc nods before he can tell his neck what to do.

“Looks like no practice today, and more rain,” What would he normally say to Valentino. Well, normally he wouldn’t say anything. So that’s probably not a viable strategy.

“That’s good for you, yes?” Vale says, blue eyes intent on him, like he’s genuinely interested.He steps close to Marc, including him under his umbrella, and Marc tightens his fingers hard on the handlebars of the scooter. “Less practice for others and then— with the rain, easier to catch? A left-hand circuit, so you have more room to outpace the factory bikes.”

Casey, walking slowly, arrives in time to catch the tail end of Vale’s statement, and his eyebrows twitch up, gaze ping-ponging back and forth between them.

Marc waves.

Vale, though blunt, is not wrong, and Marc will take a win in the wet of it comes to that, but the forecast clears as the weekend progresses, and the thing he’s really missing so far this year is a clean win. No wet, no sand, just him and the motorcycle and everyone else behind him. The GP23, despite being unequivocally weaker after he exploded in Indonesia and they removed his improved flywheel, is still a bike that he has enough experience on that he can use his style a bit more and manipulate it the way he needs to, so the parts change hasn’t made too much of an impact on his pace. Plus, this is also one of Pecco’s more mediocre tracks, something he knows that Vale knows but will never say to Marc. Honestly, if it’s not for Pecco or the floundering VR46 team squad (unlikely), he has no idea why Vale is here. Maybe Casey invited him to do some dirt track.

He opens his mouth to twist all this into something shiny enough that it can be outwardly verbalized to two other world champions when Casey, so far neglected by Vale, speaks.

“Wow. You know, I really didn’t believe it.”

They pause.

“That you two had made up again, I mean,” He throws a thumb Vale’s way. “I thought this one would take it to his grave, he’s good at that.”

Marc hits him with a weak smile and Vale doesn’t even look over, eyes still on Marc and whatever he sees on his face.

Casey seems to notice, and a divot appears between his eyebrows. Marc scrambles to find something to say that will make this interaction end in the next ten seconds.

“Um, so what convinced you that he wasn’t evil?” Casey asks. So much for that dream.

“Same thing that convinced me that you weren’t,” Vale quips.

“Jury’s still out, then?”

Vale puts a hand on Marc’s shoulder and laughs at Casey beatifically. “Ah, no. Maybe he is just prettier than you? Better in bed, you know.”

Marc laughs, high and shrill, and Casey and Vale both turn to look at him.

“Okay, Marc?” Casey asks, and Marc nods. It’s a normal joke— it’s the kind Vale’s made before. About him, about Jorge Lorenzo, probably about Casey. If 20 year old Marc were here right now, he would just be thrilled that Vale was teasing Casey and using Marc to do it. That idiot would sit here and smile and think about women when he went home to jack off and go on with his day. No such pleasures for 31 year old Marc.

He swallows. He hasn’t responded quick enough. Vale’s eyes narrow, and Marc feels horribly exposed. He’s gotta get out of here.

“Yeah, yeah. Something in my throat, you know? Gresini— uh, they need me in the box, I have to go over something. For tomorrow, the sprint. So. I should go. It was nice seeing you both, I’ll see you later— “

He punches the gas, and as they scramble away from the scooter to avoid getting any toes caught in the crossfire, he zooms away before he can hear their responses.

When Vale’s hand slides off of Marc’s shoulder as he accelerates, the places where his fingers touched Marc burn all the way back to the garage.

[noblewildwoodfiction]

SVSSS MoShang Sugar Daddy AU

This fic was a commission by @primtheamazing. Thank you, Prim, this was SO fun to write. You can find my commissions information here.

Rating - T for Teen. Suggestive themes but nothing graphic.

Pairing: Mobei-Jun/Shang Qinghua

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: None.

-

As an author of stallion novels, Shang Qinghua - more famously known as Airplane Shooting Through The Sky - was well accustomed to backbreaking, exhausting work to earn his living.

Admittedly, the backbreaking work was usually done sitting at a laptop, but his posture was terrible, and his suffering was real. And despite the criticisms of his beloved haters, it took a lot of mental energy to keep up his pace. He would like to see them try to add ten thousand words a day to a story where all of the possible ground had been tread and retread a dozen times already. (In fact, put all ten thousand words in the comments! Engagement! Yes! Keep paying that hate-reading money, so Shang Qinghua can have a little pork belly with his noodles!)

All that to say, it had already seemed like too much to expect that his mysterious arts patron was lavishing him with money and expensive gifts solely because of his passion for Shang Qinghua's literary genius. Particularly since he did not seem to know that much about Shang Qinghua's current webnovel. There was definitely something fishy going on.

The big, gorgeous fur-lined coat that had arrived that morning just proved it. When he'd first unpacked it, he'd looked the brand up on Baidu and nearly choked at the price. This was not an artist gift! This was a trophy wife gift!

Shang Qinghua held the coat up to himself in the mirror. He looked absurd. His haircut was terrible, and the coat was huge, covering all of his body but his round face. He had spots on his face. He put the coat on to see if that would help. It didn't. It just made the rest of him look cheaper by comparison. He had some unidentifiable brown sauce stain on his pants, and his t-shirt had a small hole by the collar where it had worn through.

Shang Qinghua took the coat off, and then everything else but his black boxers. He went and combed his hair and washed his face, then put water on his fingers and tousled it again, but better. Then he came back and put the coat back on.

The coat was a little too big on him, the hem of the long coat nearly hitting the floor, the collar and sleeves going over his face and hands. The fur on the inside of the coat was the softest thing he'd ever touched, and it felt obscene on bare skin. It was even softer on the sides of his ribs, the back of his neck, the soft part of his thighs. Goosebumps prickled up his skin, and he turned the collar up to nuzzle at the inside of it like a cat.

When he looked in the mirror, he had to put his hands over his eyes for a minute to recover. He still looked like a sort of chubby-cheeked kitten who had just woken up, but a sex kitten. Maybe. At the very least, he looked like he'd stolen his boyfriend's coat after a night of being - wait.

Shang Qinghua raked a hand through his hair and bit his own lip, widening his eyes at the mirror.

Now he looked like he'd spent the night being ravished by someone large and handsome. Especially if he stood like this, where the coat draped in such a way his boxers weren't visible, and one of his pale thighs stuck out of the coat.

Oh, yeah, he needed a picture of this. Just for himself, of course! Shang Qinghua took a few pictures with his phone, striking a variety of poses. In a fit of recklessness, he even took the boxers off and took a few suggestive ones just barely obscuring his dick. Certainly enough to show his inner thigh. These were the kinds of pictures that a sugar daddy would be looking for, right?

"Do you like it, my king?" he purred at the mirror, and then, in a sudden attack of paranoia, triple-checked to make sure all of the curtains were closed and the door was locked.

His mysterious patron identified himself as Ice King online, and Shang Qinghua had called him "my king" in their message history ever since he had seen the first deposit of ten thousand yuan into his account. He had, admittedly, indulged in some fantasies about him being some sort of tall, dark, and handsome princely type. Maybe with a chiseled jawline and brooding eyes.

Not that Shang Qinghua was thinking of anyone in particular! Knowing the internet, Ice King was probably some gross old pervert anyway. Not that Shang Qinghua had anything against perverts, given his line of work.

He tossed his phone on the bed, and went and changed into some regular clothes. Cleaner clothes, this time, and, admittedly, nicer than his usual daily wear. Then he put the coat back on and took a regular selfie. It was only once he clicked the photo button and heard the sound of a recording ending that he realized that most of that had been a video. Whoops.

He took an actual photo of himself fully dressed, and then sent that to the message thread with Ice King. He captioned it, "My king, this is 2 much!!!! I <3 it," hit send, and then, in a fit of self-consciousness, silenced his phone and started working on the chapter update.

By the time he resurfaced for air a few hours later and reached for his phone, his heart was beating fast in his throat. It wasn't like he'd never sent Ice King selfies before, but there was a difference between that and "look how good I look modeling the expensive coat you got me."

There was a notification on his lockscreen, timestamped for four hours after he'd sent the original picture.

"Yes."

Eloquent as ever, my king! Yes, what? Shang Qinghua swiped to open the text thread, trying to remember exactly what he'd said.

His blood froze. There was a play button on the picture he'd sent. He pressed play, and watched in numb silence as he stripped for the camera. That whole time! The whole thing! Filmed! Do you like it, my king he'd said! Naked!

There was no help for it. He would have to strangle himself with his laptop cord. There was no other way.

Belatedly, his brain caught up with him. Ice King had said yes. He liked it?

There was a typing bubble in Shang Qinghua's messages. He clutched at his chest, waiting. A photo started loading in.

The photo loaded.

Shang Qinghua was so fucked.

The photo was of a man, familiar and sharp-edged and coldly, pristinely beautiful, with dark hair falling around his face. The man was wearing a coat identical to Shang Qinghua's brand new one. It fit him better than it fit Shang Qinghua. Especially around the shoulders. Magnificent shoulders on this man, Shang Qinghua noted, distantly. The rest of him scrambled to comprehend what he was seeing, and finally spat out, "Mobei-Jun?!"

He hadn't talked to Mobei-Jun since Mobei-Jun was shoving him around in secondary school. He'd seen him on TV sometimes, in news reports about the company he'd taken over from his father, looking as blank-faced and stern as he ever did. Shang Qinghua had only seen him smile two or three times in their entire shared shitty teen years, and every one lived in his mind rent-free.

It's the same as mine, Mobei-Jun texted, as a final killing blow.

"Shut up!" Shang Qinghua said, to his phone, flustered. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

He messaged a key smash, and then mobei-jun????

Yes.

its me sqh

I know.

how long hav u known 4?

Two years.

why didnt u tell me???

There was a long pause. The typing bubble appeared and disappeared several times, as if Mobei-Jun was thinking about it. Shang Qinghua's nerves skyrocketed. Mobei-Jun was going to be offended! And block him! And stop covering a not inconsiderable portion of Shang Qinghua's rent!

nvrmind, its whatever, he added, hastily. i didnt kno u liked my writing ;3

I don't.

Shang Qinghua's heart wept. Cruel! Harsh and cruel! The world did make more sense this way. Marginally.

?????? then y the coat?

An excruciatingly long pause.

To see you in it.

Oh! Well, in that case.

oh okay ;) anything else u want 2 see me in? ;)

Another excruciating pause.

Yes. I'll get them for you.

Shang Qinghua's heart soared. He messaged a bunch of encouraging heart emojis and then a few more suggestive emojis. What was Mobei-Jun going to do? Block him about it? Maybe come over and shove him around a little more like they were back in secondary school? He could be okay with that. He could be more than okay with that, given the circumstances.

Shang Qinghua nixed the plans for self-asphyxiation by laptop cord. Life was beautiful! Let the haters barrage his comments section! His sugar daddy was Mobei-Jun.

[sisterandscripture]

Christ as a Caretaker 💞

Hi siblings!! It’s mee, Elle, your sister in Christ! 🎀

If you’re new to my blog, welcome!! I created this to help strengthen my relationship with God and hopefully help others do the same ^^

I was feeling a little down today, so I thought of posting this for a bit of comfort <333

Soooo if you’ve had a bad day…

Sit down, relax, and take comfort in Christ 🙏

📜Bible Verse of The Day

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11‬:‭28‬ ‭[NIV‬‬]

💌Something’s in your Inbox!

(im terribly sorry for the random info dump, please bear with me sharing my experience 😓)

I’m an eldest daughter, so uhm…

As you can imagine, there was definitely a lot of pressure put on me, even at a young age. I’m always expected to be independent and strong.

Even now, my sister gets most of the attention in the family and that’s okay with me, I understand why. She’s younger and needs more care than I do.

Along with the rest of my family, I take care of her too.

Sometimes though, it comes to the point when there are times that I have no one to go to for comfort, and I can’t even care for myself.

When I am burdened by something, I’d much rather keep it to myself than add to my parents’ burdens. I don’t want to become someone else’s problem just because I’m dealing with my own.

Yet, I can’t help but yearn for someone to take care of me— for someone to prioritize me, give me their undivided attention, unwavering comfort, and put me first.

Now that I’m growing up and growing more in my faith, it’s time I taught myself run to God.

Matthew 11:28 reminds us that there is someone who cares for us, someone who is willing to pay attention to our struggles and to lift our burdens.

God is our caretaker, He is the one person we can constantly go to for comfort.

Jesus Christ is the epitome of safety, warmth, and care. (I mean, the guy loved us so much that he died for us sooo…) He will always be there for us.

If you’ve been feeling a little unloved today or for quite awhile now, it’s okay :))

You don’t always have to be strong, sometimes it’s okay not to be okay. Whatever you’re feeling is valid. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to break down, it’s okay to lose sight of your path.

Leave it to God to build you back up again and bring you back on the right track.

Come to Him, and he will give you rest. Come to Him, and I promise, you’ll instantly feel much better 🥹🥹

Christ is our caretaker and our refuge— without fail, He will care for us. He will always be there for us. Whenever you feel alone, you aren’t.

God’s just waiting for you to reach out to Him. He loves you so much. Even when it feels like the whole world hates you, God is there.

Take comfort in Christ, and you won’t regret it.

And who knows? Maybe there will come a time when He’ll send someone here on earth that will care for and love you sincerely.

(hey, if you do need someone to talk to though, you can always reach out to me too— just send a message, and i can include you in my prayers or we can pray together!! but I strongly encourage you to go to God first :3)

📞God’s on the Line

I always say that prayer is a powerful thing. It’s your strongest weapon and your biggest comfort. It’s a one-way ticket to reach out to God!! ✨

Almighty God,

Thank You for being my caretaker. Thank You for constantly being there for me, and for being my best source of comfort. Thank You for allowing me to go to You when I am tired, sick, burnt out, sad, and hurt. Thank You for Your unconditional and perfect love— and the ultimate sacrifice that proves it, dying on the cross for my sins. I love You and offer all that I have to You. In my times of need, remind me to always go to You.

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen!!

(you may continue this on your own, take all the time you need. let the prayer bring you comfort, let Him speak to you)

Goodbyeee my siblings!! Take care of yourselves, and remember that God takes care of you too. He loves you sooo much!! 💗

[1toreyouapart]

Right Through Me

***FANFICTION THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT. 18+ MDNI***

Rae arrives on her former best friend’s doorstep, asking only for a place to stay while she gets back on her feet after moving across the country to escape her ex. Nick gladly opens his door to her, quickly pulling her into the fold with his friends and band mates.

Noah is just trying to survive. He wants to make it. Needs it. He has no time for anything other than the band. He’s got a point to prove. Nick’s friend challenges that and upends his entire world. She drives him crazy with her laid back, carefree ways.

Everyone can see the collision coming from a mile away, and nobody can stop it. Much less the two of them. Who will make it out in the end?

CW/TW: domestic violence, miscarriage, alcohol use, swearing, smoking, tobacco/vape use, smut, more to come as story is written.

So You’ll Do It?

“So. You’re joining us next month to help with merch?”

Rae turned to look at Matt. She hadn’t quite said yes to Noah or Folio. The offer was tempting. Not like she had anything else going on. And she could use the money. It wouldn’t be long before she ran out of it, and she didn’t want to rely even more on Folio when that happened. She cast a glance towards the kitchen where she saw Noah snicker before turning back to the stove. The little shit that he was.

“It appears I am. Yes.”

“Good. We could use the help. When does that come off?” He nodded towards her sling.

“About a week.”

She leaned back against the chair, keeping herself focused on the coffee table in front of her. A week she had been here. Most of it spent hanging out with Noah and Folio. Mostly Noah. Folio always had shit going on, and now with Sean out she was anxious. Didn’t matter that she was thousands of miles away. Nearly a two day drive away. So, any time Folio would be out for a bit she was here at Noah’s. It was how she ended up there today.

“Alright. Assuming there’s restrictions once it’s off?” Matt was all business. She kind of appreciated it.

“Yeah. Uh. 25 pound lifting limit and I can’t do certain motions with it for another six weeks after it’s off.”

Matt nodded, humming as he thought. Nervous she glanced back towards the kitchen. Noah was quick at work chopping something, looking up just long enough to give her a little half smile and nod of his head.

“We’ll have some stuff to figure out, but we’ve got nearly a month to figure it out. Welcome to the team.”

“It’s fine, Matt. I’ll help with the load in and load out for her.” Noah called from the kitchen as he dumped whatever he had been chopping into a pan.

“I’m not-“

“A charity case. I know. You tell me every day. However, you are injured. It’s not charity. It’s helping a friend.”

Rae paused. She had actually been about to say something different. Maybe she had told him that too much. Oops.

“I mean, I was going to say I’m not incapable of doing things.”

Noah laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t so bad. Good God, he worked a lot, though. Almost always on his phone talking with Matt or the record label. And when he wasn’t doing that he was working on stuff for other bands. Always staying busy and productive. She was a little shocked he wasn’t on his phone right then.

“Noah’s got the right thinking, though. Those boxes are heavy. Don’t need you down to one arm again because you’re doing too much.” Matt interjected. “Anyway. I gotta run. Glad we could nail you down. Gotta keep fine tuning mixes.”

“Thanks, Matt. I’ll call you later about how we’re gonna do all this.”

“Later man,” Matt called over his shoulder as he headed out.

Rae sighed, listening as Noah’s music started back up again. Much like her he seemed to never do anything without music playing. Sean had always hated that. And God forbid she use headphones. Then she couldn’t hear him when he was yelling at her.

Anxiety bubbled low in her belly. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, sweat breaking out on her brow. Sean was going to find her. Maybe he already had. And then what would she do? She didn’t know the first thing about defending herself. Fuck. What if he found her here, at Noah’s? He would kill him, and all he was doing was being kind. Oh, fuck.

“Hey, Princess. You good?”

Noah knelt before her, holding her face in his hands. The worry in those deep brown eyes of hers almost broke her. Almost. She was stronger than that. If she could survive Sean she could handle a little concern thrown her way. Shaking her head she forced a smile, forcing the thoughts away.

“I’m fine.” She nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ, friend. You were damn near catatonic just now. Where did that pretty little head of yours go?” His thumb stroked her cheek as he spoke, soothing her slightly.

She wanted so badly to blurt it all out. To tell someone what she had been through. Get this giant elephant off her chest. Maybe she should? If Sean found her it was best someone knew. But she couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Telling someone meant she was a victim. Meant she was weak.

“I’m fine, Noah. Just thinking about stuff.” She kept her voice soft, her tone reassuring. Something she had learned to do to avoid Sean screaming and yelling. Avoid him throwing things. Him hitting her.

“Why don’t you come in the kitchen with me?” His eyes searched hers, clearly not believing her. “I could use your opinion on this sauce.”

“It smells amazing. You don’t need me in there.” Rae laughed, averting her gaze finally.

“Either you come with me willingly or I carry you in there. Choice is yours, Princess.” He smirked, challenging her.

Goddamn it.

“Noah-“

“Ope. Looks like I’m carrying you in there.”

Noah stood up, leaning back down, a triumphant grin on his face as he scooped her up. Her stomach lurched as he lifted her easily, heart racing. Squealing she wrapped her arms around his neck. She couldn’t help the swirl of butterflies in her belly as he carried her into the kitchen, depositing her on the counter. Nobody had ever carried her like that before. And Noah was doing it with a smile on his face, almost smug.

“Goddamn it. Noah, you can’t just make me do what you want.” Flustered she rubbed her palms on her thighs, willing away the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You were in your head.” He shrugged, like it was really that simple. “Plus, what girl doesn’t like being swept off her feet?” He winked as he went back to cooking, humming along to the music.

She would have crossed her arms over her chest if she could have. Instead she settled for glaring at him as he pulled out a spoon, dipping it in the sauce he was making. Rae watched as he blew on it, cooling it off. God. He was such a smug little asshole sometimes. Always making her do things when she didn’t want to. Distracting her. Making her find her love of the small things again.

“Taste.” Not a question, an order as he brought the spoon up to her lips.

Rae stared at him, arching her brow. Eventually he would have to figure out that he couldn’t just make her do what he wanted.

“Rae. Open.”

She couldn’t help it. Something in the way he spoke to her, how he looked her in the eyes. Slowly her mouth opened, though she arched a brow in defiance.

Noah stuck the spoon in her mouth and she closed her lips around it, all the while keeping her eyes trained on his. Thyme, basil and garlic danced on her tongue, balancing out the sweetness of the tomato. Her eyes still trained on his she pulled back, swallowing.

Heart rate spiking she finally averted her eyes, looking down at the floor. That was quite possibly the most intimate thing she had ever done. How he had looked her in the eyes, held her gaze as he put the spoon in her mouth. The way his eyes had softened the as she took the spoon in her mouth and swallowed.

“It’s good.” Her voice cracked on the last word, heart beating frantically in her chest. “Noah. You can’t just go carrying girls like that under the guise of getting them out of their head.”

“And why can’t I pick you up like that, Princess?” He got right to the heart of it, like the perceptive little shit he was.

“Might make a girl think you care when you don’t,” she deflected. She was giving him dating tips. That was it.

“Huh. But what if I do care and want to carry you like that?”

“I’m not talking about me, Noah. I’m saying in general. Some girls might get offended by that.” She looked up at him, fighting the urge to kiss him. Five weeks since she had left Sean. She shouldn’t be having these butterflies over anyone, much less someone she had only known a week.

Noah moved in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs. She watched with bated breath as he pushed her thighs apart, stepping between them. Watched as he leaned in close, face hovering maybe an inch from hers, his eyes searching. A dull ache formed between her thighs as he looked at her, and it took everything in her to refrain from clenching her thighs around him.

“See, I kind of like how easy it is to just pick you up. How fucking easy it would be to kiss you right now,” he muttered, fingers tangling in her hair. “And I really like the idea of me personally erasing every memory you have of him.”

Right at the moment his lips touched hers, gentle, asking permission, Folio walked in.

“Goddamn it, Noah! You’re not allowed to fuck my best friend!”

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lacy1986 @supersquirrel1996 @mrscevans @ichoosetenderomens @dontwantthemoney @concretejunglefm

[ichigosoju]

🌷

[kaeyapilled]

. (tw heterosexuality)

[princemick]

we should actually talk about a engineer charles and ferrari driver mick au.

[phagodyke]

IWTV EP6 WE'RE SO FUCKING BACKKKKK

[euthymiya]

The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl

[foxy-eva]

Drunk on You

Summary: Spencer is completely and utterly infatuated with you

Request: Pussy drunk Spencer where it’s the first time they sleep together and he’s completely obsessed with being inside her and eating her out (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Maybe it was a bit cliché to invite Spencer into your apartment for coffee after your date. The ulterior motive was obvious but there was no elegant way of telling him what you really wanted. He didn’t seem to mind when he accepted your offer with a grin on his face. 

The tension between the two of you was palpable once you stepped through your door. The warm amber of Spencer’s irises shone even brighter under the lighting of your living room. It was mesmerizing to look at him, so much so that you quickly forgot about the coffee. 

Spencer couldn’t care less. It was obvious that he knew a hot beverage wasn’t exactly what you craved right then. The way he licked his lips as he looked at you gave away that he was longing for something else, too. 

Stepping closer, you left barely any space between the two of you. The warmth he radiated penetrated your skin and spread through your body. You breathed in his scent, a pleasant mix of his cologne and laundry detergent. 

“So,” you teased as you leaned closer. “Are you gonna kiss me now or what?” 

“Gladly,” he chuckled. 

To your surprise, he took his time with you. His fingers found your jaw, gently brushing along your skin before slightly tilting your head. His other hand made contact with your waist to pull you even closer. Then, unhurriedly and with a precise motion, he finally leaned in to close the distance. 

Once your mouths made contact there was no more holding back, though. His lips were soft yet demanding and he didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss. Tasting you broke any resistance Spencer had and he couldn’t keep up his demeanor anymore. 

His fingertips dug into your waist before you felt them trembling against your body. His tongue brushed over yours as if you had finally granted him the first taste of water after a life-long drought. When your hands found the nape of his neck to playfully tug at his curls, he unabashedly moaned against your lips. 

Spencer was desperate to make you his and he had no intention of hiding that from you. His lips only left yours to gasp for air before kissing you some more. When you wanted to lean back to look at him, he chased your mouth and immediately closed the distance again.

His enthusiasm made you smile into the kiss and he noticed. That was when he finally slowed down, leaving a few more feather-light pecks on your mouth before leaning back. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” 

“Don't apologize,” you breathed. “I like how eager you are.” 

To prove your words, you took his hand in yours to lead him into your bedroom. Spencer wasn’t the only one who had been waiting too long for this to finally happen. You had no intention of acting shy with him when it was clear how much the both of you yearned for each other’s nearness. 

Right beside your bed you came to a halt and turned to him. Patiently he watched as you undid the buttons of his dress shirt and brushed the fabric over his shoulders. Once the shirt dropped to the floor, your hands wandered along the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes followed the movements of your fingers and you couldn’t ignore the outline of his hardness straining against his trousers. You looked at the man in front of you and found him staring at you with the utmost adoration in his eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked and he nodded. 

Your palm carefully made contact with his clothed cock and a sigh immediately escaped Spencer’s throat. He leaned into your touch and twitched against the fabric of his confines. You decided to free him as you undid his pants and slowly pulled them down together with his underwear. 

As you took your time to admire the beauty of your lover, you completely forgot your surroundings. Only Spencer’s hand brushing along your arm brought you back to reality. You locked eyes with him again and felt your cheeks heating up. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled. 

His hand found the fabric of your shirt and tugged on it as he cooed, “I want to see you, too.”

Together you got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing until both of you were completely bare. You lay down on the mattress to continue kissing without any barriers between your bodies. 

Spencer hovered over you when he began kissing down your neck. He left sweet pecks on your skin before biting down on your pulse point, drawing a whine from your lips. To soothe the angry skin, he carefully licked along it before moving further down your body. 

“You smell so good,” he groaned as he kissed your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

He took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth while his hand found the other, teasing it with his fingers until you couldn’t hold back your moans. When he heard your hymn of praise, he hummed into your skin. 

Hungry lips found one another once more. “You are marvelous,” Spencer mumbled into the kiss. 

While he was distracted with his mouth on yours, a curious hand made its way down his body to wrap around his erection. It made him whimper against your lips. Your fingers brushed over velvety skin until they found the weeping tip to spread his arousal over it. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he looked down his body to watch your hand caressing him. 

“Do you like that?” you teased as you kept stroking him a little harder. 

His hand found your wrist to stop your movements. “Yeah, a little too much,” he confessed and his words made you smile. 

You let go of him and watched as his fingertips danced along your chest and down your stomach until they reached their destination between your legs. Tentatively, he let one finger glide along your slit before spreading your folds apart. When he found you already dripping with desire, he groaned, “So wet for me.” 

He collected your dew on his fingertips and dragged it along your folds before circling your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure only spurred him further on, caressing you some more before he breached your entrance with two digits, finding little resistance from your body. 

Spencer kissed along your neck as he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that made you light-headed and let your walls flutter around him. He seemed to relish feeling your body like this, taking his time to explore your core before settling on a steady pace. It didn’t take long for you to dance along the edge of euphoria. 

His lips brushed along your ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

That was all it took for your undoing. Spencer groaned as he felt you pulsing around his fingers, your entire body writhing as you found relief. You were still panting when he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

With a playful smirk spread over his face, he brought his hand to his mouth to lick your release from his fingers, savoring the taste of your cunt on his tongue. 

“You taste so good,” he breathed before moving down your body. “I need more.”

Before he could settle down between your thighs, you grabbed his shoulders. The feeling of being empty was overwhelming and you yearned to be filled out by him. Even though the prospect of having his mouth on you was exciting, it was not what you needed then. 

“I need you inside me now,” you whimpered. “Please, Spencer.” 

He kneeled between your legs when he chuckled, “How could I say no to that?” 

Hurriedly and with little grace you reached over to your nightstand to get a condom from the drawer. Spencer didn’t waste any more time when he took the wrapper from your hands to put the condom on. As he leaned over you, you watched him closing his eyes for a moment before he aligned his cock at your entrance. 

Then, after locking eyes with you, he began pushing his hips against yours. He hissed a curse at the sensation of slowly stretching you open one inch at the time. When he dared to look down between your bodies, he got so overwhelmed at the sight of his cock entering you that he almost came on the spot. 

Quickly, he averted his sight to get his composure back. Your walls fluttered around him and you felt him twitch in response. Once he had filled you up to the hilt, he took a moment to feel your heartbeat deep inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whined as you began rocking your hips against his. “Please!” 

He didn’t mean to tease you or test your patience. He just wanted to fully savor this moment. Feeling you tightly wrapped around him made his head spin. He felt inebriated when he began moving and started to think you had cast some kind of spell on him. 

“You feel so good,” he breathed when he began moving. “So tight for me.” 

Pure magic was the only explanation for what you made him feel. Spencer struggled to wrap his head around the fact that this was reality. Nothing else mattered other than being right there with you, making you his as he fucked you against the mattress. 

“Harder!” you cried and Spencer obliged. 

It proved to be a mistake, though. As he watched you quiver underneath him, the bedframe shaking with his forceful thrusts, he struggled to delay his downfall. Feeling you getting even tighter around him made it impossible to not fully indulge in this sensation. 

With his whole body trembling, he tried but failed to slow himself down. Desperation was written over his face as he attempted to prolong the feeling of being inside you. Of course you noticed it, too. Seeing him fall apart on top of you as pleasure overcame him was exhilarating and you had no intention of slowing him down.  

“Come for me,” you murmured and Spencer’s eyes widened at your words. 

Then, with a particularly hard thrust, he did. Trembling and groaning, the built-up tension was released as his climax washed over him. 

Before you had a chance to wrap your arms around him to welcome him inside your embrace, he pulled out of you and quickly moved down your body. With your head still spinning, it took you several seconds to realize what he was doing. 

Only when you felt his tongue glide through your folds did you comprehend that he had found his new home between your legs. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” You hissed at the feeling of his mouth caressing your sensitive center. 

Like a man starved he collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue, moaning into your skin as he tasted your heady aroma. The vibrations he created sent shockwaves through your body, prompting you to buck your hips against his face.

Seemingly unfazed by your reaction, he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you in place as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue and mouth. 

“So good,” he whispered against your heat. 

Despite his effort to hold you securely against his mouth, you were sure you might start floating at any moment. Two of his fingers found their way into you, adding more pressure and bringing you closer to your undoing. 

It only took a few more seconds until ecstasy overcame you. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high, rocking gently against Spencer’s face. He didn't let go of you, though. Almost in a trance-like state he kept caressing you, licking up your release as you writhed underneath him. 

Your chest was heaving when you looked at him, eyes closed and half of his face buried between your legs. Spencer didn't even consider stopping, not when you tasted so heavenly, even more so after you came. Drunk on your taste and scent, he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his night right there. 

It became too overwhelming for you, though. The constant stimulation was too much to bear and almost became uncomfortable, so your hands found his curls to pull on them. “Enough,” you murmured.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from your core to litter your inner thighs with little kisses. Then he looked up at you, a wicked grin painted on his glistening face. He wiped himself clean with the back of his hand before plopping down beside you. 

“Sorry, uh…” he muttered. “I got a little carried away.” 

You placed a kiss on his lips, noticing your own scent still lingered on them. 

“I’m not complaining,” you purred. “I just need a little break. We can continue later.” 

The glimmer in his eyes at your words must have been akin to someone witnessing a miracle. Content with the prospect of doing all of this again, he wrapped you into his arms. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[arolesbianism]

What if instead of posting abt the random card au characters that are actually from the medias I made the au for I just post more abt the ocs that don't matter at all and that no one cares abt. Anyways currently thinking abt the magic user that started the bond that An is a part of. Little autism creature that goes ehehehehheheeheeheeheeeeheheheheeehee

[asakamasanobu]

simply overcome with feelings for ricchan today …… i love him so much i must speak this out into the world