#but this is like my uneven picture in a room with a with moment

[kissmefriendly]

Being a reenactor and being a big fan of Monstrous Regiment is so hard because I love every single piece of fan art but also. The uniforms. The epaulets. Why’s bunch of privates have double epaulets. I implore. I beg. I love you all so much. Kissing all MR artists with tears in my eyes.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: Simon’s past, PTSD request(s): a first, some hard truths

Simon is a professional at quiet.

It's ingrained in him, a piece of his brain rewired from training to make his mass nearly invisible, depending on silence to stay alive.

Sometimes, he thinks he should make more of an effort to make noise at home. He should drag his heel, just barely, enough for a scuff or imbalance of his weight, to make a floorboard creak or groan. He should open doors in a rush, allowing locks and jams to click and clack, alerting whoever is on the other side to his presence.

But if he did, he wouldn't be able to do this, wouldn't be able to stand just outside Orion's room and watch you play peek-a-boo with him, hiding your face with your hands and then sliding them open, smiling so wide it makes his heart skip a beat.

"Where did he go?" You laugh from behind your palms, and reach down to tickle his belly, giggling. "There he is!" Ry is on a changing pad, on the floor (too big now for the changing table) naked except for a fresh nappy, beaming up at you like you're everything.

He and his son are in love with the same woman, he's afraid.

"Where did he go?" You make a show of looking for him, hiding behind your hands, unable to see the way Orion's eyes widen and dart around, clearly seeking your eye contact, before you squeal "there he is!" again and match him smile for smile.

He leans against the door frame, fully aware you still have no idea he's there, and pulls out his phone, desperate to immortalize as many moments as he can, filling his camera roll with pictures and videos of you and the baby so he'll have something to cling to when he's torn away by the next op.

"Where's my baby? Where did he go?" You feign looking around, turning your head from left to right, finally catching Simon out of the corner of your eye, looking from him to the camera, still smiling, sun shining across your face from the window. He smiles back, he can't help it. Once a foreign feeling on his face, now feels so natural when it comes to you. Orion kicks his feet impatiently, and you turn back with a gasp. "There he is!" You tickle him, again, and this time, when you giggle, he does too.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you look at Simon wide eyed. "Oh my god. Did you hear that?" He practically drops his phone and goes to his knees at your side as you lean forward and blow a raspberry on the baby's belly, Orion giggling the whole time.

It hits him like a truck. He feels faint. The floor is uneven. His baby is laughing. The world tilts, and for the thousandth time since he ran into you on the sidewalk, everything looks different. He blinks back the burn behind his eyes as you pull Orion to your chest, kissing his cheek, cupping the back of his head.

"Say, daddy did you hear me? Did you hear me laughing?" You use a smaller voice, one trying to imitate a baby's, peals of bells ringing inside his head. He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to Orion's head, breathing him in, and you lay your head against his chest with a thunk and a sigh. "I can't believe that just happened."

"I know." Orion gazes up at the two of you, eyes flicking back and forth, and you slide your fingers through his wispy hair. The lump in his throat dissipates, and he kisses your forehead. "Thank you." Thank you for this. For everything. For giving him a chance to have a family, for giving him a chance to show his son what a healthy home looks like, what love looks like. For it all.

Your draw back, finding him open and vulnerable, soft parts on display, unguarded. Your free hand cups his cheek, just as he's done countless of times to you. "For what?"

"For giving me everything."

Later, he’s on his back, lazily watching you in the bathroom from your bed as you brush your teeth and talk to your sister.

It’s been a week since you asked him to stay, since he held you through the night, and he’s hardly been back to his short term rental since.

You asked him about it, a few nights ago. Asked how close he lived, since he was back and forth so often, or if he had been making a trek. Wondered how never found him, if he was in the area. The guilt was rife on your face, and anxious to alleviate it, he told you the truth.

“Got a short term flat down the street after I ran into you. Wanted to be close.” You jerk back in his grasp, unbelieving. “My… friend, a bloke I work with, lives in this neighborhood. That’s how I ended up at the bar that night. Sometimes I would crash at his place.”

“You rented a place, to be close to us?”

“Of course I did, mama. Y’really think I was just going to leave you here all alone?”

“I miss her.” You roll into bed from your knee, and he hooks an arm over your waist to tug you into his chest, closing the gap. There’s something soothing about covering the back of your head, your skull, with his palm, fingers splayed in every direction like he’s holding a ball.

He tells himself it’s not because of the dreams. The ones he has where he finds you dead face down in a scarlet red puddle, shot execution style, and Orion missing. Certainly not.

“Who?”

“My little sister.” You snuggle closer, nose to his neck, and he closes his eyes, reveling in each second, counting them slowly.

“Where is she?” You sigh.

“Seville.” Spain? “I used to live there, and she visited once. Fell in love with it. It’s where she goes for school.”

“You lived in Spain?” You nod, sleepily. Feeding Orion always wrings you out, and it was the last thing you did before getting ready for bed.

"Yeah, I used to kind of, float around. Lived in Venezuela briefly too, once. Morocco, Cameroon, Berlin-" Your name is a shredded ribbon from his lips, confused and curious, wrapped up into a jumble of syllables.

“For… fun?”

"I got antsy after uni. Didn't want to just stick around where I grew up, I wanted to do stuff. See stuff. So, I kind of... took off." Of course you did. You might be a kitten, but you're still curious, smart. Bright eyed and enchanted by the world. You probably had a wonderful time running around across the globe. "I'd like to take Orion traveling, you know? Make sure he sees the world, or some of it at least. I'm trying to believe you can still experience life even though you have a baby. Like you can experience life... with your child, right?" His jaw clenches so tight his ears pop. You had big, beautiful wings-

how was he going to clip them?

“Simon?” His name brings him back to earth, to where you're curled up in his arms, warm and soft and safe. He sighs. The conversation looms like a reaper over him, a big, ugly storm brewing on the horizon.

"Let's talk about the travel for when he can at least eat solid food, alright?" The placation burns like acid in his stomach, and you press a kiss to his neck.

“Alright.” He takes a very deep breath.

“But… we do need to talk about something, mama.” Your brow furrows.

“Talk about what?” He doesn’t like the way his heart feels in his chest, a rock sinking to his stomach.

“There’s a lot… you don’t know, honey. A lot about me, and my job.” You stay loose, but pull away to get a better look at him in the glow your bedside table.

“Okay…” It’s meant to prompt him, to lead him to the next step, the one where he starts talking, but the words are frozen in his throat. “Hey,” you dip into his line of sight. “Simon. What is it?” The truth starts to burn. It smolders until it becomes a full flame, spilling out of his mouth, scorching everything in his path. You.

“My family was killed because of me.” You jerk away like he’s slapped you, eyes wide.

“W-what?” Your voice shakes, and he doesn’t blame you.

“My mother, my brother, his son and his wife, they… they died. Because of me.”

“I don’t understand.” Of course you don’t. Why would you?

“It… it doesn’t make sense to start from the middle, so I’d like to tell you… about my life, and my… experiences, if you’re open to listening.” He wanted to hold you for this, wanted to feel your pulse beating beneath his thumb, but you’ve created physical distance, and he doesn’t want to push you. He has to believe he won’t lose you. He doesn’t even want to think about what he might do if you tried to leave. “Please.” His voice cracks, and you nod, timidly.

“Okay, Simon.”

At the end of it all, you’re silent. Shell shocked. Sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around your waist, you stare him, your breathing short and staccato. He reaches for you, trying to bring you comfort, trying to pull you into himself where you would be safe, and loved and held, but Orion starts to cry, fussy, hungry sharp wail piercing the silence, and you tumble out of bed for the door-

leaving him alone in the dark.

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 3)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, canon typical violence (mostly all off screen), descriptions of dead/dismembered bodies, reader is injured (leg injury and slapped), the kidnapper emotionally manipulates the reader, on page murder. Author's note: Thank you so much for all the support it's been crazy!!! This chapter is a bit intense, I'm not going to lie. We just need to hold hands and get through this. But I swear, the next part of this will be sooo tooth rottingly sweet. It's so long that I actually had to make this five parts lmao. I could not stop with the comfort and softness. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o  @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararoseblog @harryshousewhore

The first thing I felt was rough rope as it scraped against my skin. I worked my eyes open, the task feeling too great. I was strapped to an old chair. Nausea swirled in my head as I tried to take in my surroundings. It was a plain, nondescript gray room. The walls were concrete. In the middle of the room, directly in front of me, was a large iron door. It looked like something you would find in a bomb shelter. Around my chair were shafts of moonlight provided by a skylight above. There was a bite in the air that made me shiver. My breathing was uneven as I weakly struggled against the ropes. 

“I see you’re awake. Wonderful.” The man with ice cold eyes appeared from the corner of my vision, a folder in his hand. “I don’t want to waste either of our time.” He lugged a metal chair in front of me and I cringed at the horrible screech as it echoed around the room. “Where is Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett?” I blinked, my brain foggy. 

“I don't know who those people are.” The man tsked. There was a flash of anger across his calm face before it was replaced by cool indifference. 

“Bullshit, we see you coming in and out of their apartment.” My stomach churned, either from whatever they shot me with or from the creeping anxiety.

“Oh you mean Al’s roommates? I work for social services for her. I don’t know anything about them.” The man grinned. It was vicious and predatory. 

“You are a bad liar.”He sat on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Why do we have photos of you with both men? What? One not enough for you?” He flicked open the folder and pulled out two pictures. One was of Logan and I on the fire escape. It had been captured at the perfect moment to have clear shots of our profiles in it. The other was of Wade and I at the bar. No, not just the bar, the bathroom. I was half exposed, Wade’s face against my bare breast. The woman who interrupted us had worked for him. Now I was actually going to throw up. I had been followed for months at this point. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Where are they?” 

“They don’t tell me about their jobs, I swear. Please just let me go.” The man shook his head with a hum, sounding like a disappointed teacher, sliding the photos back into the folder. 

“I’ll leave you here for a couple days, see if that jogs your memory.” Days? 

“Wait no! Please!” But he had already disappeared through the metal door. In the doorway, I saw a woman waiting. I blinked in shock. The woman, the one from the dingy bar bathroom. She was the one who had taken our picture.  My kidnapper nodded at her before the heavy door thudded shut. Days did pass, the skylight allowing me to count by the motion of the sun. My body soon grew stiff and achy as I sat on the chair. I wanted to sleep, anything to pass the time, but I wasn’t able to calm my mind enough. The shadow of the woman never moved from the small window. I could feel her watching me, my arm hair standing up at the feeling. To distract myself, I thought of Wade and Logan, of them bursting in here and rescuing me in a blaze of glory. But as the days bled into one another, hope started to fade. 

The man reappeared after four days. He removed the chair from in front of me, opting to just stand. “Have you thought about your answer?” 

“I don’t know where they are.” It was the truth. They didn’t give me any information about their jobs. They could be on Everest for all I knew. 

“I don’t believe you!” He began to pace, wearing a line into the concrete floor. 

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s the truth.” He rushed at me suddenly, fingers digging brutally into my cheeks as he gripped me. My fists clenched as I forced myself not to jerk away. 

“Stop bullshitting me,” his voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me now.”

“Do you not understand me?” My voice had lowered too, anger boiling inside me. “Get it through your fucking head that I. Don’t. Know. You are wasting your time. Let me go. Do it before they find me here. They’ll kill you before you can even try to fight back.” 

“Oh is that right?” I knew he was toying with me, but I fell stupidly into his trap anyways. I was angry and tired and so fucking scared. My brain was barely functioning. 

“Wade’s gonna make a necklace of your intestines.” 

The slap made a stomach churning crack. My mouth filled instantly with blood from my split lip. My cheek throbbed in the aftershocks. Tears pooled and trickled down my pulsating cheek. Another thunderous slap caught my other side. Blood splattered across my sweats. It was so hot, it practically burned through to my skin. 

“What a shame.” His hand wrapped in my hair, yanking my head back, neck stretched too far. The warm blood rushed down my throat and I gagged. “You had such a pretty face. I see why those two kept you around. It’s so nice to have some stress relief. But it seems that they’ve moved on to a better piece of meat now.” He winced when I spat at him, the saliva and blood sticking to his cheek. He touched it like he couldn’t believe it, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb. 

“When they get here they’re gonna eat you fucking alive!!” His face twisted in rage. His grip tore at my hair as he ripped my head to the side. Something pricked my neck, cool liquid rushing through my veins. My vision began to fog, body feeling too dense, brain going fuzzy. 

“Sleep well.” 

It had been days. 

I watched the sun beams make their slow progression across the dusty floor, only to be replaced by the darkness of night. My face still stung and my lip kept dripping blood. I called to the woman who was still standing there, hoping that she would take mercy and help me. But I might as well have been shouting at the wall. No one came. No one helped. All I could do was wallow in my pain and loneliness. Maybe they had really abandoned me. What was I to them anyways? Exactly what he said, stress relief. Nothing more than a convenient body. Something to pass the time. If I was worth anything, they would have been here.

My eyes had just slipped shut, head lolling to my shoulder, when the door opened. “Good morning!” It was him. My shoulders slumped, hoping I could just ignore him, that he was just some hallucination. “Your saviors haven’t appeared. So we have come up with a solution.” I opened my bleary eyes when I heard the chair in front of me creak. He clutched my phone in one hand and a wickedly sharp knife in the other. He swiped my phone open before clicking on the screen. I could hear ringing and then someone picked it up on the second one. My eyes were fixated on the knife as he flipped it, catching the hilt each time. 

“Baby cakes?! Where are you? What happened?” Wade’s voice was horrifyingly panicked. 

“Aw baby cakes?” The tip of his knife traced my cheekbone and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn't flinch and cut myself. “What a cute name.” 

“It’s not as cute when you say it,” I grumbled. My voice was thick through my swollen lip. 

“What happened? Why do you sound like you have cotton in your mouth?” The man pinched my busted lip, fresh blood bursting forward, and I whined in pain. My nails bit into my palms. Over the line, I heard a growl, letting me know Logan was also listening in. 

“Sometimes I just don’t know how to handle myself around such a pretty lady.” Wade let off a string of choice swears and Logan snarled. “She has such a naughty mouth. I see why you keep her around. But it seems you’ve left her for good, huh? She won’t be too pretty once I’m done with her.” 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” Logan was spitting in rage. “If you do I swear I’ll rip that worm you call a dick and ram it down your throat.” I smiled despite myself, something warm unfurling in my chest. They were still trying to find me. After over a week, they were still hunting. 

“I told you,” I hissed, “they are going to eat you alive.” 

There was a split moment where I knew I had fucked up. His eyes snapped to me, lips pulled back in a horrifying smile.

Then the knife flashed.

The pain in my leg was indescribable. I thrashed, desperate to escape the blade stuck through my thigh. I knew I was screaming but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my ears. Fresh blood from my lip and tears traveled down my chin. More blood pooled under my thigh, soaking into my ruined pants. I was only faintly aware that others were shouting and someone was laughing. 

His hand hammered the knife in deeper, the wood seat cracking under me, the hilt flush with my leg. I wailed, pleading sobs of mercy clogging my throat. “Stop moving so much.” There was more shouting. My head knocked against the back of my chair. The corners of my vision grew dark. “Do you want to say goodbye? Who knows if you’ll make it to see them.” All I could do was weakly whimper. “She seems preoccupied. I’ll see you two soon.” He tapped my face, the force just under another slap. “You sound so nice screaming. Maybe I will actually keep you around.” 

He left me like this, bleeding, trembling, pinned to the chair like a piece of meat. More days passed and the bleeding didn’t stop. It wasn’t normal. I should have died like this. Cold was lingering on my skin and small shivers racked my body. My bare feet had long gone numb. Someone, my foggy vision only registered them as a blob of white, entered the room. They carefully removed the knife and then eased me out of my pants. They methodically stitched my skin together, the haze of shock covered the pain of the stitches. Once a thick white bandage covered the wound, they turned and left. 

On the fourteenth day, I heard shouting. Then gunshots. My head jerked from where I had been sleeping. Panic spiked. I needed to run. “Fuck,” I mumbled, looking around desperately for something, anything, to save me. The room was mostly bare besides a table against the opposite wall. Then I saw it. 

The knife. 

I tried to wiggle closer, but failed to move an inch. “Fuck,” I repeated, desperate now. More shouting and gunshots, closer this time. The more I fidgeted, the more of the seat fell away from under me. Think think think. I continued to sway, lifting the chair onto its sides before it cracked against the floor as it fell. Then I heard a splinter in one of the legs. I took a breath to steel myself before I tipped myself completely over. I nearly sobbed in relief when the chair leg connected to my uninjured leg was the one that snapped off. I awkwardly propelled myself across the scratchy ground, the exposed skin on my left side becoming ragged. The rope on my left wrist began to fray, just enough that when I got to the table, I was able to yank my hand off and reach blindly for the knife. The blade caught my palm but I gripped it tightly, ignoring the bite of pain. 

I made quick work of my other binds, the knife almost slipping from my wet grip, and rose to my freezing feet. My injured leg protested instantly, nearly giving out when I put weight down. But I had to run, had to escape. I limped toward the door, and looked through the small window. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard screaming. I had to yank hard on the door to get it open. There was a dead end to the right and a long twisty hallway to my left. I took a few tentative steps out. When no alarm sounded, I sprinted. 

The stitches in my thigh ripped right away. I couldn’t think about the pain. Only escape. I clutched my stolen knife close and ducked into any small nook I could when I heard people thundering by. I should have followed them, maybe found an exit, but the squelching sounds of limbs being severed launched me forward. I turned left, left, right, middle at a fork, up a flight of stairs. I was hopelessly lost but all I could think of was escape, running on pure instinct to find it.  

The smell of blood hit me first as I turned a corner. Body parts were strewn across the wide room. Intestines dangled from the ceiling beams. Heads, half crushed, lolled away from their torsos. I wretched, nothing came up besides bile. But I could see outside through large bay windows. My legs were like water under me as I moved to the door. I stepped on an eyeball, the firm jelly bursting between my toes. Just keep going. My head was swimming, nausea from the gore around me mingling with the searing pain in my leg. 

I collapsed. I could barely feel the pain as my hands slammed down on broken glass. Then I heard two men’s voices. I scrambled to hide behind a stack of boxes, jamming my sore body into the smallest crack I could find. “I know she’s in here, can smell her.” My knuckles turned white around the knife. My breath was weak, I had lost too much blood. 

“Could you maybe sound less like a pervy vampire?” I heard boots lightly hitting the floor as they spread out. “Do you think this scared her?” He sounded timid, maybe even a little afraid. The first man laughed. 

“What do you think? You pulled this guy’s entire spine out! Of course she’s fucking scared!” The shout made me jump, huddling deeper into my hiding spot. “Fucking idiot.” A pair of red boots passed my hiding spot, then planted back in front of me. I sucked in a breath as fear rippled through me. My eyes closed tight.

“Hey,” the voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “There you are.” I was so on edge, so terrified, that the hand with the knife whipped out on pure impulse. The tip pushed through something firm, before that gave way to softness. It sunk deep, blood rapidly flowing over my hand. I couldn’t open my eyes. I had attacked someone and they were bleeding all over me. My victim barely made a noise when I stabbed them. 

“You can let go of the knife, you're okay.” A hand caressed my face and my teeth sunk into the leather glove, jaw latched tight. I felt like a cornered animal, ready to tear into anything that came near. “Sweetheart,” the name, the voice, pulled me back. I released the hand and opened my blurry eyes. Logan and Wade were squatted down in front of me. Their faces were covered but I recognized the suits. 

My knife was stuck through Wade’s neck. 

“Wade,” my voice shattered, tears welling. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see it was you.” He pulled the blade out with a little grunt. There was a hole straight through his throat. My stomach churned again but I held it back. The muscles and tendons laced together rapidly before the skin closed over it completely. 

“Don’t apologize. I said the height of romance was stabbing, didn't I?” Logan reached out again and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. A frown drew down his lips when he saw the bruises on my cheeks. “What do you say we get you out of here, yeah? I don’t think extreme violence is really your scene.” 

Logan was examining my leg the best he could without touching me. I could hear him sniffing as he leaned closer. “We need to take her to a doctor. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“They stitched me up but I think all of them have ripped now.” My head felt so heavy. “My fingers are cold…is that normal?” 

“We have to carry you out, is that okay?” As Logan asked, Wade was already reaching for me. He scooped me into his arms and clutched me tight to him. I hissed as my thigh stretched, head falling heavily against Wade’s chest. Logan walked beside us and I reached blindly for his hand. He gave it a small kiss, but didn’t hold it. 

After two weeks, I was safe. 

I was safe. 

But we had to get out of this building first. Logan walked a head to peer down corners before signaling we could move forward. Wade moved slowly, keeping a firm hold on me. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet. I felt limp and weak in his arms, ready to sink into sleep as soon as I could. To keep myself conscious, I tried to remember all our turns, but it felt like there was an impossible amount. There was a round of clicking and the shuffle of feet as we rounded a corner. 

“Ah shit.” 

“Fuck.” 

My sore eyes opened to find rows and rows of armed men. In front of them was him. There was a cruel smile on his face as he took me in. The woman was tucked behind him, her eyes pinned on me. “I see you pulled your stitches. You should have waited for me to get you instead of trying to run off on your own.” Logan snarled as his claws extended. 

“Listen here bub. I don’t make idle threats. So best believe I’m going to follow through with skinning you alive.” Wade moved suddenly, his back to the men. He moved far quicker than he had before. I heard men readjusting their guns, their anxiousness clear.

“And where are you going Mister Wilson?” 

“First off, Mister Wilson is my father.” I groaned as Wade placed me on the hard concrete floor, safely tucked behind a stack of boxes. He stood, “you can call me Marvel Jesus.” I watched with an unfocused gaze as his hand snapped open a holster and handed me the gun that it held. “Just dropping off special cargo.” I took it, my hands shook at the light weight. There was a flash of gold along the black metal but my hazy brain couldn’t make out the text. I carefully tucked it under my leg to hide it from view. Once that was done, Wade traveled back to Logan’s side. “What do you say darling?”

“Let’s fucking go.” My hands slapped over my ears at the thunderous noise of all those guns firing. I was desperate to drown out the screams, the wet slap of limbs falling to the floor. My first instinct was to take deep, calming breaths, but my nose was too full of the scent of iron. The time stretched, the fight going for hours. 

Just as a sense of shaky calm fell over me, hands grabbed me. I recoiled instantly. “Don’t be difficult.” It was him. He was trying to pick me up, trying to move me. But my body was dead weight and he struggled to lift me. Something cool pressed under my thigh. 

Now don’t be afraid of it. If you show fear around guns, you’ll end up shooting yourself in the foot. 

Okay, see this little switch? No, not me you insatiable minx. This. Get a feel for it. If you are ever in danger you have to know where it is right away. 

He was distracted, watching something over the boxes next to me, his arms suspended in mid air. A female scream cut through the rest of the deep shouts. That rush of time, the feeling that wasn’t easy to explain, snapped. I blinked in confusion. With the man’s focus somewhere else, I put every ounce of concentration into my hands, willing them to stay still, as I lifted the gun. I found the safety and flicked it back.

Now don’t get any big action hero dreams of just pulling this trigger and letting bullets fly. It requires a lot of force, so you have to pull the hammer back first. Make sure you hold it with both hands, okay? Last thing you need is a concussion from it flying back and hitting you in the head. 

My sweaty thumb slipped from the hammer. The movement seemed to catch the man’s attention. There was a split moment where neither of us moved. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached for his own gun. I raised mine and pressed the barrel to his forehead. Both of my index fingers wrapped around the trigger. I squeezed with every ounce of strength I had left. 

You can’t look away, pumpkin. 

You gotta make sure anyone who is trying to hurt you is dead. 

I didn’t. 

One second his head was there, eyes bulging in fear. The next, just a cloud of red remained. Squishy chunks of brain, shards of skull, and a splatter of blood went everywhere. It was in my mouth, in my hair, across my bare legs. All sound died and was replaced by a dull ringing. His body slumped before it fell. I stared at it, dark red spluttering from the exposed veins of his neck, the liquid pooling on the floor. The concrete was quick to drink it up. Logan was the first to appear at my feet. He took me in, his face unreadable under his mask. I saw his mouth move but it was jumbled, words half broken. I shook my head, tapping my ears. It was like a dial slowly moving up on the radio. The sound of bullet casings hitting the ground, screams of pain, the thud of bodies. 

“You alright?” Logan sounded panicked, his loud gruff voice cutting through the renewed sound. I nodded. “We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry sweetheart.” I nodded again. There was one last shout of agony before silence fell again. Logan maneuvered the dead man off me, throwing the body carelessly away. He slipped the gun from my sticky hands before hoisting me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent. Sweet, earthy, the tang of sweat. 

“We got you. I got you, sweetheart. Always will.” 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five Six

The car’s gone. Lets go now.

Eddie sighs, but at least this is still the trailer park and at least it’s dark, so they stand a chance of not getting caught.

Max says her room is around back.

“I am aware,” Eddie huffs under his breath, “I was there for the conversation, if you recall.”

Eddie finds the right window and sort of shimmies it until it gives, just like Max said it would. Eddie’s still not one hundred percent healed up, so pulling himself up and then flopping through the window is a little painful and not his best moment.

At least he lands right on Max’s bed.

He looks around to orientate himself, then heads for the wardrobe, right at the bottom there are two scrunched up paper grocery bags, right where Max said they would be. Eddie checks real quick; yeah, clothes. Not much, just a few of Billy’s things Max managed to salvage before they downsized to move to the trailer.

Eddie hits the bathroom next, bottom shelf of the cabinet, right at the back, a half bottle of Billy’s preferred cologne and a couple of half used bottles of fancy shampoo and conditioner, “you’re so fucking vain.”

You will thank me later.

Eddie looks at Billy. The bathroom in the trailer is still pretty small, so Billy is currently standing in the shower cubicle, watching Eddie brush his teeth. He looks perfect; perfect hair, perfect tanned skin, shiny earring dangling from one ear, chain flashing at his throat. He’s wearing a white button down, undone to between his pecs. And Billy actually has pecs, because Billy also has a perfect muscled body.

Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

Ha Ha.

“Right,” Eddie spits and rinses, “lets go.”

What. You’re not ready.

“Errr….yeah I am,” Eddie looks down at himself, he even got out the nice jeans for this. It’s his first real proper date with Steve, just Steve, and he is not going to fuck this up. They’re having dinner at Steve’s, and then going to catch a movie, and then maybe milkshakes after.

Perfect.

Absolutely not. You are not going out looking like that.

“But I did the fancy hair stuff. I even dried it the way you said.”

And it looks like, a million percent better, but you gotta’ change. We can’t go looking like this. You want to bag Harrington, don’t you?

“I...alright, fine. Make your suggestions.”

You’re going to ditch those dumb fucking white sneakers for a start.

“Billy, man, I’m not sure about this.”

Eddie eyes himself in the mirror, same jeans, but now with a belt cinching his waist in tight, and tucked into a beat up pair of black boots. His leather jacket over top of a tee shirt that Billy had insisted he cut the arms off of and around six inches off the bottom.

You look good.

Eddie wraps an arm around himself, the scarring is still pink and shiny in places, raised and uneven...ugly looking. The tee shirt gives a couple of inches clearance for bare skin to show above Eddie’s belt.

Trust me, you need to show off those ridiculous hips.

“I don’t have any hips!” Eddie says desperately.

Exactly, stand up straight. Turn side ways, look in the mirror. See how the jacket hangs, it makes your waist look even tinier. He’s going to want to get his hands on that, trust me.

“You can’t know that.”

Yeah I can.

“How?”

Because I want to get my hands on it. Trust me.

Eddie frowns at himself in the mirror, “the scars look fucking terrible. I’m just. Billy man, I don’t think I can do this...”

And then Billy’s there, sliding in behind him, turn, Eddie does, goes where Billy wants him, watches as Billy’s fingers creep around his hips.

“That’s...that’s so weird,” Eddie breathes, it’s like a tingle. Like the ghost of a touch, “I think I can feel you.”

Billy smirks, good, because I can definitely feel you.

One hand creeps further around, Billy watching them both in the mirror over Eddie’s shoulder, his fingers tracing softly across the visible scars on Eddie’s tummy, finding his belly button under his shirt and then moving on. It makes Eddie shiver. He watches, unsure where this is going, but too quickly it’s over, Billy stepping back, and Eddie finding he immediately misses the feeling of Billy’s hands on him.

Billy clears his throat, looking away, come on, lets go bag you your guy.

Okay, so this is about the millionth time Eddie has caught Steve starring at his bare middle and he’s only been in the house for twenty minutes...so I guess you were right.

I’m never wrong about shit like this. Ask him if he sees something he likes.

“See something you like Stevie?”

Steve splutters, going pink to the tips of his ears, “yeah, I, sorry, I’ll just. Sauce.”

In his head, Billy is absolutely braying like a donkey. Wild, joyful laughter that Eddie didn’t even think Billy was capable of. It’s beautiful, and weirdly charming, making Eddie smile at him. But he’s watching Steve turn away with his shoulders hunched up around his ears with embarrassment, and he shouldn’t leave that.

“This okay?” Eddie asks quietly, carefully hugging Steve from behind as he stirs sauce on the stove.

Steve sighs and relaxes back into him, “yeah, yeah it’s good.”

It’s dark as they stand shoulder to shoulder, doing the dishes. Eddie had taken off his jacket, and even though Eddie thinks his arms are stick thin and pale as fuck, that doesn’t seem to stop Steve from looking at them.

He’s so into you.

“What?”

“What?” Eddie grins at Steve, with it dark out and the lights on, he can clearly see their reflections in the windows over the sink.

“You’re grinning.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m enjoying myself.”

“Doing dishes?”

“Doing dishes with you,” Eddie amends, hip checking Steve and handing him another dish to dry.

Steve leans over and flicks some suds at him before giggling and moving to put the dish away. Eddie just might be in love. They had decided to skip the movies, staying in and watching something instead. Eddie was immediately up for the change in plans simply because it means he can hold Steve’s hand.

He’s not really expecting Steve to kiss him, not right now. Not lent up against the kitchen counter, and definitely not with his hands still a little wet with sudsy water.

But that’s exactly what happens. It’s a soft press of lips, at first, uncertain. Gentle. And then Steve sighs through his nose, relaxes, and they move together. Steve’s mouth is soft and, when it slides open, damp. Then wet. Eddie finds himself pressing Steve into the counter without really thinking about it, and Steve goes easily.

It’s so good. So fucking good. It’s slow and sweet and gentle, everything Eddie ever dreamed it would be. They part, but Eddie just wants to kiss him again. Wants to kiss him forever. Steve presses in with his tongue first and Eddie’s never been kissed before today, never mind this, and reflexively sucks on Steve’s tongue before he can even think about it.

Steve moans.

Okay then.

Steve’s fingers are squeezing at Eddie’s waist, and he can’t help but shiver, thinking for a moment about Billy’s hands on him. The tingly feeling he felt when Billy touched him and...Eddie blinks, pulling back to look at Steve.

Steve’s beautiful, his lips shiny and a little kiss bitten pink, his cheeks are rosy and he might be the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. He's probably the only person on the planet who's on a par with Billy.

Steve kisses him, but over Steve’s shoulder, on the other side of the kitchen, Eddie can see Billy. He’s watching them, arms crossed over his chest. Glaring.

He looks...angry. Sad. Fucking furious and fucking devastated in turn and-

“Eddie?” Eddie blinks again, looks back to Steve. “You okay, you kind of...zoned out. That wasn’t like, too much was it?” Sorry if I…”

“No. No it, was great it was. Shit. It’s the best Steve, it was great it was just...”

Steve seems to curls up into himself, pulling his hands back and wrapping himself up instead. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll just uhm…” And Eddie’s getting his jacket before he can even think it through, putting it on on autopilot.

What are you doing?

I can’t do this.

Why the fuck not, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?

But is it what you want?

Billy goes silent as Eddie climbs into the van. Steve’s standing at the front door, and jesus, he looks devastated. Fuck.

Eddie can’t do that either.

He angles his mirror, finds Billy hunched moodily in the passenger seat, glaring out of the window. His eyes look suspiciously pink and shiny.

Shit.

Eddie scrambles back out of the van, jogging up to Steve on the porch.

Now what the fuck are you doing?

“Steve, I’m really sorry…”

Oh Munson don’t you fucking dare.

“...but I really have to tell you something.”

[maccaronimassacre]

Going to a haunted house with them <3

Ada Wong

Can tell when something is about to happen moments before it does.

A slightly uneven floorboard? A prop is going to drop from the ceiling.

A small hole in the wall? A scare actor is going to jumpscare the two of you.

Would she tell you though? Absolutely not.

She finds your reactions too adorable and makes a mental note to take some pictures for later down the road.

Ada isn’t a screamer though. She’d either gasp very loudly or stiffen up like a tree.

She enjoyed it though and decides to search for more horror attractions around the area to go to with you.

Chris Redfield

You constantly had to remind him that nothing bad will happen and it’s all staged.

That doesn’t stop Chris from being over protective anyway by constantly shielding you whenever a prop would pop up to jumpscare you.

Even a sudden loud noise and Chris has his arms wrapped around you like a bear.

That is until he sees how shitty all the props and costumes are and he starts to roast them.

“Who made zombies green? Are you seeing this shit, babe? You know I used to punch through these like they were cardboard-”

He ends up rambling about how inaccurate the monsters are but overall has a good time.

Claire Redfield

Would be screaming with you most likely.

The type to spend most of it laughing out of fear but also enjoyment. Mostly fear though.

Claire would definitely hype you up if you got too freaked out and would drag you along the whole journey.

Or similarly to Chris she would be roasting the shit out of all the props in the house.

With Claire’s track record the two of you end up in a completely different part of the house that you definitely should not be in.

She tried to climb through the windows and gaps the scare actors are in.

Probably ends in the two of you getting kicked out but Claire manages to steal one of the props as a souvenir.

Ethan Winters

Considering this man looked at spider Maguerite and said “well that’s special” I feel like he wouldn’t be fazed at all.

Would also find your reactions amusing and occasionally tease you for it.

Tries to touch everything or figure out the mechanics of each room

He’d give the scare actors his iconic 500 yard stare whenever they would try to jumpscare him.

He would hold your hand through out the whole thing though.

But as soon as Ethan hears a chainsaw he is bolting and screaming like his life depends on it.

Also bugs.

And with bugs means lots of swearing.

Leon Kennedy

Would pretend to be unfazed for the most part but internally he is screaming.

He promises to protect you from the spooky ghosts and zombies.

He would tease you constantly whenever you got spooked but would immediately eat shit afterwards.

“Aww did that scare you? Honestly you wouldn't last a day at my-”

He’s immediately cut off by his own scream after someone grabs his shoulder.

Holds your hand to ‘make sure you don’t get lost by wandering off’ but really he needs you for support.

Leon really hates clowns though.

If he spots one its either getting roundhouse kicked or he’s turning around and never coming back.

[sluttysanemi]

Hiiii I wanted to ask if I could get a nude sending fanfic cause I rarely see any like Giyuu x reader sending nudes please!! I would be on my knees begging 😞

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

PHOTOS

c/w: suggestive / smut ,, subtle masturbation, sending nudes, established relationship

a/n: ok slut nation. i lied. there was no sanemi snippet. I WAS TIRED!!! and it was my birthday on the 20th, so sorry 4 the late post!

a quick clear-up as well, because someone else had asked, i dont think i'll do nsfw of minors, even aged up. it's jst a bit.. iffy? you know what i mean? cuz u know, what's the age in which its wrong to write nsfw 4 the character, even if its aged up? its sort of hard to explain.. sorry!

An unexpected notification in the midst of silence. Giyuu glances upwards, along his phone, pleased to see your note. 

You and Tomioka had recently engaged in a long-distance romance, whilst you had traveled to visit family. Despite the physical distance, the connection with Giyuu stood tightly, as you both took effort to communicate regularly. The prospect of rejoining swelled his heart with delight. 

He swiftly taps the rectangular frame of the notification, opening your conversation. 

Your intimacy was potent, with many rekindling sceneries of passion within the sheets. This distance had interrupted their romantic endeavors, which rationally irked you both.

You missed one another- both sensually yet emotionally. You wanted little else than to relive those driven moments again.

Your ravenous instincts had triumphed across your thoughts, and you had craved the surge of dopamine that Giyuu delivered. 

He was surprised, as he witnessed the content you had sent.

In the dank silence of his room, with his phone a single dimly lit source of light, an energy of lust envelopes his senses, as he gazes at your picture.

His mind becomes graphic, with erotic detail, as he stares at your nude body. His eyes trail over, his thoughts recalling the sensation of your physique whilst you had been together. 

He watches your breast, your delicate nipple pointed. The curved shape of your ass, the soft plush of your skin addictive to knead. 

His eyes scanned over your text, as you detailed how you had missed him. He knew. 

His cheeks tinge in color, as his shaft begins to thicken within the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

His hands carefully trail to his stiffening bulge, palming and caressing in a forlorn attempt to relieve himself. His brows knit closely, as his breath began to stream in uneven layers.

You'd caused something to him. You struck him harshly. You always could. It was the influence you had over him. Despite his best initiatives, he could never withstand your effect. Your impact on him was undeniable and yet so pleasurable. 

He gently tugs on the waistband of his clothing, allowing his cock to spring upwards eagerly. 

He needed to show your lasting effects on him. 

He holds the base of his shaft, his lips quivering as his fingertips grasp the pulsing veins of his eager dick.

Angling his phone near it, he captures a picture of his spilling shaft, illustrating its eager state.

He promptly sends it to you, as he had clarified how much he misses you. Needs you.

He expresses a longing for your presence, desiring deeply, lecherously, to see you once more. His message conveys an urgent desire for your company.

And God, he couldn’t wait to feel your cunt around him again. 

To watch your gentle face retort in thrill as he would please you over and over, endlessly.

It tortured him.

[hd-junglebook]

Its Always Been You

Part 4 / Word Count 5816

Masterlist

Summary: And so, the trip to Michigan begins with a little surprise guest.

In the dim glow of his bedroom, Jack's world felt like it was crumbling around him. The shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the chaos within his mind.  Jack's hands trembled as he held the phone to his ear, his breathing uneven and his heart racing.

"Luke, I don't know what to do with myself," Jack's voice trembled, a mix of anguish and vulnerability. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and his free hand clenched into a tight fist.  

"I've acted like a complete fool all week. Y/n hates me. I'm feeling… I'm feeling things I never felt before for y/n, and I think I've finally lost my mind."

Luke's harsh tone cut through the silence, his confusion evident. "Jack, what the hell are you talking about?" There was a rustling sound on the other end of the line, as if Luke was sitting up in bed, suddenly alert.

Jack's pacing resumed, his frustration palpable. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, his footsteps heavy against the carpeted floor.

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on him as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"I told y/n I knew how she felt about me, and then I broke her heart. She left me all alone for three days. Jesus, I just saw her locking lips with some loser in the hallway. It's taking everything in me not to go out there and drag him outside."

"Jack…" Luke barely got out before he was interrupted again.

Before Luke could respond, Jack's voice rose again, defiant and emotional. "I'm not done." He halted his pacing, standing in front of his dresser where a picture of y/n and him sat.

It was from the night of his draft party, a snapshot of happier times. Jack's fingers traced the edges of the frame, his eyes fixated on y/n's smiling face. The photograph seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of what he had thrown away.

He thought back to that night, his emotions, how he begged her to leave her life behind and move to New Jersey. The memory was vivid, the excitement and hope he felt then now replaced by a crushing sense of regret.

The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her hand in his, the sparkle in her eyes—it all came flooding back, intensifying the ache in his chest.

Rustling came through the speaker of Jack's phone. "I ruined us, Luke. I've ruined the best thing I've ever had." Jack's voice cracked, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.

"Dude, it's almost 12am, and you're babbling about something everyone and their mom knew already. How long did you think you could fight your feelings?" Luke's tone softened, a mix of exasperation and concern.

"I don't know, Luke." Jack stayed still for a moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The door of their apartment closed, and he hung up on Luke when he heard footsteps approaching.

Jack perked up, holding his breath as he listened to them get closer. His heart raced, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest.

Another door closed, leading Jack to swing open his door. Y/n had already closed her door, the click of her lock reverberating through the silent apartment.

Jack's hand hovered over her doorknob, his fingers trembling. He wanted to knock, to apologize, to pour his heart out, but fear and uncertainty held him back.

…

The sound of her alarm woke her from her restless sleep, the shrill beeping cutting through the stillness of the early morning. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness around her.

The room was bathed in a deep, melancholic blue, the shadows clinging to the corners and casting an air of despair. The curtains, a soft, sheer fabric, billowed gently in the breeze from the slightly open window, allowing a sliver of pale moonlight to penetrate the gloom.

"Here we go again," she mumbled groggily, her voice heavy with exhaustion and resignation. The words felt thick on her tongue.

She sat up in her bed, allowing the blanket to fall in a heap on her waist. The sheets, once a comforting embrace, now felt suffocating, tangled around her legs like the thoughts that consumed her mind.

y/n looked around the room with despair, her gaze lingering on the familiar objects that held countless memories—the framed photographs on the dresser, the stack of well-worn books on the nightstand, the discarded clothing strewn across the floor.

Y/n sighed again, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the room. She pushed the blanket off of herself fully, the cool air of the apartment sending a shiver down her spine.

Her steps were light as she dressed herself, opting for comfort over style for the plane ride back to Michigan. She pulled on a soft, oversized sweater, the fabric enveloping her like a comforting hug, and a pair of well-worn leggings that had seen better days.

As she moved about the room, gathering her belongings, the floorboards creaked beneath her feet, the sound amplified by the silence that hung heavy in the air. The scent of stale coffee and the lingering aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the apartment.

Jack's door opened across from her room, his yawning loud against the stark silence of the world outside their little apartment. The sound made her flinch, her body tensing as she braced herself for the inevitable encounter.

She could hear his footsteps, the shuffling of his feet against the hardwood floor, and the rustling of his clothing as he moved about his room.

Y/n rolled her eyes, not ready to interact with Jack just yet. The thought of facing him, of seeing the guilt and regret in his eyes, made her stomach churn. She focused on the task at hand, pulling her suitcase up to the door, the wheels squeaking against the floor.

Her eyes landed on the corkboard that hung on the wall beside the door, the pictures of their innocent smiles and young faces causing her heart to break even more.

In one picture, they were grinning broadly, their arms wrapped around each other's waists as they posed in front of a sunset on the beach. In another, they were dressed in formal attire, attending a friend's wedding, their eyes sparkling with happiness and love.

Y/n's fingers traced the edges of the photographs, the glossy paper cool beneath her touch. A lump formed in her throat as she studied each image. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes, the emotions she had been trying so hard to suppress threatening to spill over.

She pulled the door open, rushing past the open bathroom where Jack stood in the mirror, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth and a look of surprise etched on his face.

Y/n moved with the speed of a cheetah, her feet pounding against the floor as she made a beeline for the safety of the kitchen.

Just as she thought she had escaped the awkwardness, the front door jingled, keys rattling against the metal knob like a mischievous poltergeist trying to gain entry.

Y/N stood frozen in place, her body rigid with shock as the door to the apartment swung open. The sudden intrusion had caught her completely off guard, and she felt as if she had been turned to stone, unable to move or speak.

As she watched, a tuft of blonde hair bounced into view, the golden locks reminding her of the fairy tale character Goldilocks. But this was no innocent child stumbling upon a bear's cottage; this was a full-grown woman barging into her home uninvited.

"Daphne? What the hell are you doing here?" Y/N managed to choke out, her voice rising in pitch with each word until it reached a near-shriek. The disbelief and anger dripped from her tongue like bitter honey, leaving a foul taste in her mouth.

Jack's girlfriend fully entered the apartment, dragging a garishly pink suitcase behind her. It was as if she had packed her entire life into that one piece of luggage, ready to move in and stake her claim.

The suitcase was so bright it hurt Y/N's eyes, a beacon of chaos signaling the impending doom that was about to unfold.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Jack emerge from the bathroom, toothbrush still dangling from his mouth. White foam dripped down his chin, making him look like a rabid dog caught in the act.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, darting back and forth between the two women as if trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation he had found himself in.

Daphne's gaze flicked between Jack and Y/N, her initial smile slowly fading as realization dawned on her face. "We planned this months ago, silly," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Non-refundable ticket. We talked about this, Jack. It's only been three months; you can't get rid of me that easily."

She let out a laugh that sounded more like a witch's cackle, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief and something darker, more possessive. It was clear that she had no intention of leaving, no matter how unwelcome her presence might be.

Y/N felt her heart sink into her stomach, a wave of nausea washing over her as the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Daphne was here, in their home, and it seemed that Jack had been keeping even more secrets than she had realized.

The air in the apartment suddenly felt thick and suffocating, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Y/N's mind raced with a million questions, a million accusations, but she couldn't seem to form the words.

All she could do was stand there, frozen in place, as the world she had built with Jack came crashing down around her like a house of cards.

Jack let out a heavy sigh, his hand rubbing the front of his scalp as if trying to erase the memory of ever agreeing to this disastrous plan. His face scrunched up like he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, the bitterness of the situation leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

He glanced sheepishly at Y/N, his eyes darting between the two women like a puppy who had been caught chewing on his owner's favorite pair of shoes.

"Can you give us a sec? Please?" he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would cause the fragile peace to shatter.

Y/N scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest as she fixed Jack with a withering stare. "No, we have to leave soon, and if I don't have my coffee, I just might jump off the plane dealing with you both," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline, the thought of being trapped on a plane with these two making her seriously consider grabbing a parachute and taking her chances with gravity.

Jack's face reddened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "We need privacy though!" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

He threw his hands up in the air, as if he were trying to physically push away the awkwardness that had settled over the room like a thick fog. "Could you give us some time?"

Y/N let out a humorless laugh, the sound harsh and grating in the tense silence of the apartment. "Oh, you need privacy? That's rich, coming from the guy who couldn't even bother to tell his best friend that his girlfriend was coming to visit."

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she fixed Jack with a look that could have melted steel. "You know what? Fine. You two lovebirds enjoy your little reunion. I'll be in my room, packing my bags and booking a one-way ticket to anywhere but here."

With that, she spun on her heel and stalked off towards her bedroom, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the stillness of the apartment. She could feel Daphne's eyes boring into her back, could sense the smug satisfaction radiating off the other woman in waves.

But Y/N refused to let it get to her, refused to let the hurt and betrayal show on her face. She had always prided herself on being strong, on being able to handle whatever life threw her way. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack or his girlfriend see her crumble.

As she reached her bedroom door, Y/N paused, her hand resting on the knob. For a moment, she was tempted to turn back, to march right up to Jack and demand an explanation.

But she knew that it would be pointless, knew that whatever he had to say would only make the pain worse.

So instead, she took a deep breath and stepped inside, slamming the door behind her with a resounding thud. And as she sank down onto her bed, her head in her hands and her heart in pieces, Y/N couldn't help but wonder how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

…

Y/N walked back out into the living room, Daphne turned to her with an expression of exaggerated surprise. Her eyes were wide, and a cute smile was plastered on her face, the kind of smile that made you want to pinch her cheeks but also question the sincerity behind it.

"This is your best friend, right? She's a lot shorter than I remember," Daphne said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. It was clear that she was trying to get under Y/N's skin, to establish her dominance in the situation.

Y/N couldn't help but scoff, her eyes rolling so far back in her head that she nearly caught a glimpse of her own brain. "And you're the EX-girlfriend, right?" she retorted, putting extra emphasis on the "ex" part. Two could play at this game, and Y/N wasn't about to let Daphne win.

Jack let out a groan, his head falling back in frustration. "God, just my luck," he grumbled, his eyes rolling so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head.

He knew that he was in for a long and uncomfortable conversation with Daphne, and the thought of it made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Y/N took a deep breath grabbing her coffee, the warm liquid providing a momentary comfort before made her way back out to the kitchen. Y/N grasped the cold metal handle, the chill sending a shiver down her spine.

"Let's go before I change my mind," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. She didn't want to give Jack or Daphne the satisfaction of seeing how much this situation was affecting her, didn't want to let them see the cracks in her carefully constructed façade.

…

The journey to the airport had been a tense affair, with Y/N pointedly ignoring Jack's attempts at conversation and Daphne chattering away obliviously in the background.

Y/N could feel Jack's eyes on her, his gaze heavy with unspoken apologies and explanations, but she refused to meet his eye, focusing instead on the passing scenery outside the car window.

they made their way through the bustling terminal, Jack tried once more to pull Y/N aside, his hand gently grasping her elbow. "Y/N, please, can we just talk about this?" he pleaded, his voice low and urgent.

Y/N yanked her arm away, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger. "There's nothing to talk about, Jack," she hissed, her voice sharp as a knife. "You made your choice, and now we all have to live with the consequences."

Jack's face fell, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "It's not like that, Y/N. If you would just let me explain..."

But Y/N cut him off with a bitter laugh, her head shaking in disbelief. "Explain what, Jack? How you don’t like me? How you play this stupid hot and cold game with me? No, I think I've heard enough explanations to last a lifetime."

She turned to walk away, but Jack's hand shot out once more, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Please, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that."

For a moment, Y/N wavered, her resolve crumbling in the face of Jack's obvious distress. But then she caught sight of Daphne waiting impatiently by the gate, her foot tapping, and her arms crossed, and the anger came rushing back in full force.

"I don't have to believe anything, Jack," she said, her voice cold and distant. "You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it. I just want to forget about all of this and move on with my life. So please, just leave me alone."

With that, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and strode towards the gate, her head held high and her heart shattered into a million pieces.

The seating arrangement on the plane felt like a cruel joke, a twisted game of fate that had placed Y/N in the middle of the very chaos she had been trying to escape.

She found herself sandwiched between Jack and Daphne, her body pressed against the cool glass of the window as if she could somehow merge with the clouds and drift away from the awkwardness that permeated the air.

Jack sat rigidly in the middle seat, his body a tense barrier between Y/N and Daphne. Y/N could feel the heat of his skin, could smell the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made her heart ache with a longing she couldn't quite suppress.

On Jack's other side, Daphne slept peacefully, her head lolling against his shoulder and her soft snores filling the space between them. She seemed blissfully unaware of the silent war raging within Y/N's mind, the turmoil that threatened to consume her from the inside out.

Y/N's foot tapped incessantly against the floor, a nervous habit that betrayed the inner chaos she was desperately trying to conceal. Each tap was like a metronome, counting down the seconds until she could escape the confines of the plane and the suffocating proximity to Jack.

She could feel his eyes on her once more, could sense the weight of his gaze boring into the side of her head. But she refused to look at him. Instead, she focused on the clouds outside the window, on the endless expanse of blue sky that stretched out before her.

Y/N was lost in thought, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and memories, when Jack's hand suddenly shot out, startling her back to reality. Before she could react, he had shoved a headphone into her ear, ignoring the sputtered questions and the look of indignation that flashed across her face.

His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. It was a reminder of the connection they once shared, the easy intimacy that had defined their friendship for so many years. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as she tried to process the unexpected gesture.

As the familiar opening credits of her favorite episode of Game of Thrones filled her ear, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at Jack, searching his face for an explanation, but he steadfastly refused to meet her gaze.

His eyes remained fixed on the screen in front of him, as if the answers to all of life's questions could be found in the flickering images.

Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Jack, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

Each glance was a silent question, a plea for him to acknowledge the unspoken words that hung between them. But Jack remained stoic, his attention unwavering, as if he had erected an impenetrable wall around himself.

Even as she tried to immerse herself in the show, Y/N couldn't shake the awareness of Jack's presence beside her. The warmth of his body seemed to seep into her skin, igniting a longing that she had tried so hard to suppress.

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could hear the soft whisper of his breath, and it made her heart ache with a bittersweet mixture of love and loss.

Beside her, Jack remained a silent presence, his body so close and yet so far away. Y/N couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

…

Y/N stepped out of the airport, the crisp Michigan air filling her lungs and invigorating her senses. She took a deep breath, savoring the familiar scent of pine and freshly cut grass that always seemed to linger in the air.

The sun peeked through the scattered clouds, casting a warm glow on her surroundings and making the world seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful.

She scanned the crowd of people waiting outside the terminal, her eyes searching for a familiar face. And then, like a beacon in the chaos, she spotted him.

There, leaning against a sleek black car, was Luke. A grin spread across his face as he caught sight of her, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that had always made her heart skip a beat. "Y/N!" he called out, pushing himself off the car and striding towards her with open arms.

Without hesitation, Y/N dropped her bags and ran to meet him halfway. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling the solid warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground in a spirited hug. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and all that mattered was the comfort and familiarity of Luke's embrace.

"I missed you so much," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. She breathed in the scent of him, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely Luke, and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her.

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against her own. "I missed you too, shorty. It's good to have you back."

He set her back down on the ground, but kept his arms around her, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. Y/N couldn't help but smile up at him, feeling a sense of warmth and belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Behind them, the sound of footsteps on the pavement broke the spell. Y/N turned to see Jack and Daphne approaching, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and something else, something harder to define. Jack's eyes met hers for a brief moment, a flash of emotion passing between them before he looked away, his jaw clenching.

Luke's arms tightened around Y/N, a silent show of support and protection. "Hey Jack, Daphne," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Glad you could make it."

Daphne smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Thanks for picking us up, Luke. It's been a long flight."

Y/N could feel the tension crackling in the air, the unspoken words and unresolved issues hanging between them like a thick fog. But for now, she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the feeling of Luke's arms around her and the promise of a few days away from the chaos of her life in New Jersey.

Jack moved forward, his arms open wide and a grin plastered on his face, Y/N felt a flicker of hesitation. There was something about his expression that seemed forced, as if he was trying too hard to appear casual and unaffected by the tension that hung thick in the air.

But before Jack could reach them, Luke's hand shot out, smacking the side of his head with a resounding thwack. The sound echoed through the parking lot, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. Jack stumbled back, a bewildered look on his face as he rubbed the spot where Luke's hand had made contact.

"Ow, what was that for?" Jack asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mock indignation. His brows furrowed as he looked at Luke, trying to decipher the reason behind the sudden attack. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, the confusion and hurt flickering behind his eyes.

Luke lowered his voice, his tone stern yet laced with underlying concern. He leaned in closer to Jack, his eyes locked on his brother's, as if he was trying to convey a message that went beyond words.

"For being an idiot and for bringing her here. Did you forget about what you said on the phone?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, her mind racing with the implications of Luke's words. What had Jack said on the phone? What secrets had he been keeping from her, even as he tried to bridge the gap between them?

Jack's face flushed with guilt, the color rising in his cheeks like a crimson tide. His eyes darted to Y/N, then back to Luke, a silent plea for understanding.

For a moment, no one spoke. Y/N could feel Daphne's eyes on her, could sense the other woman's curiosity and suspicion. But she refused to meet her gaze.

Finally, Luke broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Come on," Luke said, releasing Y/N and grabbing her bags. "Mom's waiting at home with lunch. She's been cooking up a storm all morning."

Y/N grinned, the thought of Luke's mother's cooking making her mouth water. "Lead the way," she said, falling into step beside him as they made their way to the car.

As they walked, Y/N could feel Jack's eyes on her back, could sense the weight of his gaze boring into her. But she refused to look back, refused to acknowledge the part of her that still longed for his touch, his presence, his love.

Instead, she focused on the warmth of Luke's hand in hers, on the promise of a few days of respite and healing. And as they drove away from the airport, the skyline of Detroit rising up in the distance, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip would be the start of something new, a chance to leave behind the pain and heartache of the past and find a way forward, one step at a time. And with Luke by her side, and the love of her family to guide her, Y/N knew that anything was possible.

…

Lukes’s car pulled up to the familiar two-story house, Y/N felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The red brick facade, the white wooden porch, the sprawling oak tree in the front yard - every detail was exactly as she remembered.

She stepped out of the car, the warm breeze caressing her face and tousling her hair. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, a sweet perfume that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lounging in the sun and late-night conversations under the stars.

Y/N took a deep breath, letting the peace and tranquility of the moment settle over her like a comforting blanket. For the first time in days, she felt the knots of tension in her shoulders begin to loosen, the weight of her worries and fears slowly melting away.

Beside her, Jack and Daphne were unloading their bags from the trunk, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of chirping birds and rustling leaves. Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Jack's face, taking in the lines of stress and fatigue that creased his brow.

In that moment, she made a decision. She was tired of being angry, tired of holding onto the hurt and betrayal that had consumed her for so long. Life was too short to waste on grudges and resentment, too precious to let slip away in a haze of bitterness and regret.

With a determined set to her jaw, Y/N strode over to Jack, her steps purposeful and sure. He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise and a flicker of hope.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I know things have been tough lately, but I don't want to keep dwelling on the past. You're my best friend, Jack, and that's never going to change."

Jack's face softened, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and gratitude. "Y/N, I..." he started, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry too. For everything. I never meant to hurt you, and I know I have a lot to make up for. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, the sincerity in Jack's words tugging at her heartstrings. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "let's just focus on enjoying this trip and being there for each other, okay?"

Jack nodded, his own smile breaking through the clouds of tension that had hung over them for so long. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with a tentative hope. "That sounds perfect."

Together, they made their way up the porch steps, their hands still intertwined. Y/N could feel the warmth of Jack's skin against her own.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," Ellen said, her voice warm and rich like honey. "We've missed you so much."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I've missed you too," she said, her voice muffled against the older woman's shoulder. "It's so good to be home."

…

Luke led Daphne and Y/N up the stairs, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood, Jack seized the opportunity to pull his mother aside. His heart raced, palms sweaty as he glanced nervously between her and the staircase, his body practically vibrating with anxiety.

Ellen's brows furrowed, her maternal instincts kicking into high gear as she sensed her son's distress. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch a silent invitation to share his troubles.

"Jack, honey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jack swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. But there was none to be found, and he knew that he owed his mother the truth.

With a heavy sigh, he guided her to the couch, his movements stiff and awkward. They sat down, the worn cushions sinking beneath their weight, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Jack broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, I... I messed up. Y/N and I, we had a fight. A big one. And I don't know how to fix it."

Ellen's eyes widened, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. But she remained silent, allowing her son to continue.

"I didn't tell her about Daphne, and she found out in the worst way possible. And now... now she can barely look at me. I don't know what to do, Mom. I can't lose her."

Jack's voice cracked, the tears he had been holding back for so long finally spilling over. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

Ellen's heart ached for her son, for the pain and regret that radiated off him in waves. She reached out and pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping around him like a protective cocoon.

"Oh, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and gentle chastisement. "I know it's hard, but you have to be honest with the people you love. Secrets have a way of coming out, and they always hurt more in the end."

Jack nodded, his face still buried in his mother's shoulder. "I know," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

"I just... I didn't want to hurt her. But I ended up doing exactly that." Ellen pulled back, her hands coming up to cup Jack's face. She looked him in the eye, her gaze filled with a wisdom born of years of love and experience.

"Do you remember the time that boy was bothering Y/N in school?" she asked, her voice soft and reminiscent. "You came home with a black eye and a split lip, but you were so proud of yourself for defending her."

Jack's lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah, I remember. She was so upset, but I just wanted to make her feel safe."

Ellen nodded, her own smile mirroring her son's. "You brought her back here, to this very house. And you let her lay her head on your lap, and you caressed her hair until she fell asleep. Do you remember what I told you then?"

Jack's brow furrowed, his mind stretching back to that distant memory. "You said... you said that love is the most pure thing you can feel."

Ellen nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "And I see it in you, Jack. When you look at her. You love her, don't you?"

Jack took a deep breath, his shoulders straightening his heart skipping a beat at his mother's words. He had always known, deep down, that his feelings for Y/N went beyond friendship. But to hear it spoken aloud, to have his deepest secret laid bare... it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know what to say, Mom," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and longing. "Y/N and I, we're just friends. And besides, Daphne...” He trailed off, his eyes flickering towards the staircase where his ex-girlfriend had disappeared just moments before.

Ellen sighed "Jack, honey, the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be. Sooner or later, you're going to decide whether you want to be with her in that way or let her go and find love in someone else.”

Jack stood up, his heart lighter than it had been in days. He hugged his mother one last time, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "You're right, Mom. I need to be honest with myself, and with Y/N. But... but I can't do it now. Not with Daphne here. It wouldn't be fair to anyone."

"Ellen patted his cheek, her touch a silent benediction. "I understand, sweetheart. But don't wait too long, okay?

…

Tag List <3

@favsrachz @jacktoria4ever @bunbunbl0gs @ivy-34 @rebelatbay @bxtchopolis

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 12: Mercy

Contents | Part 11 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) Adapting to your new normal comes with some disappointments. But you can always count on your priest to lift your spirits.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery & desecration, explicit sexual content including oral sex (giving). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience, I'm so happy to be posting again. I'm not entirely happy with the writing in this chapter, it's definitely not my strongest work so I apologise in advance if anyone notices a drop in quality. I'll be back on top form in the next one (I hope).

This part includes a little nod to Fleabag S2, the original inspiration for this story.

His kiss was like a bruise, an aching reminder of a heady collision. And much like a bruise, you couldn't help but touch it; poking and prodding with fascination at the memory of an impact just beneath your skin.

The evening sun gleamed golden through the cloudy bus window as you rested your elbow against it, running the tips of your fingers across your lips, keeping him close to the surface. You hadn't wanted to leave the church. You weren't sure he wanted you to leave either; the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the wall of that quiet, narrow corridor like he wanted to keep you there forever. And you probably would have let him. 

The bus shuddered and jerked over the uneven road, the windows rattling, passengers swaying in a lazy unison. It was all so mundane, so normal and unremarkable, yet somehow these were the places that felt strange now; existing somewhere that didn't hold the weight of your sins.

You almost missed your stop, fumbling to press the bell and staggering down the aisle as the driver came to an abrupt halt. The air outside was cooler, a gentle breeze providing relief from the mid-spring warmth. You thought of rain as you walked home, breathed slow as you pictured it hammering the roads and gathering in murky puddles; angry grey skies and fierce winds that carried the scent of salt and earth. 

There were new decorations in the front garden of your mother's house. Small lights lining the path, a bird feeder and ornaments shaped like squirrels and rabbits tucked amongst the flower beds. You ducked to avoid a new hanging basket over the front door, letting yourself inside and checking your reflection in the mirror on the wall as you kicked off your shoes. You leaned in closer, examining yourself for a moment, trying to figure out what it was he found so irresistible about you.

"Is that you, Ellis?" your mother called. 

"Yeah it's me," you replied, following her voice into the dining room. 

She was sitting at the table surrounded by artificial flowers, plastic leaves and Baby's Breath. Her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose as she fiddled with a roll of wire, cable ties hanging from her mouth and a pair of scissors in her hand. 

"What are you doing?" you asked. 

"Making a wreath f'th front door," she mumbled, the ties still between her teeth. 

"You're a few months late..." 

"A spring wreath." She rolled her eyes, taking the ties out of her mouth. "There's dinner for you in the kitchen. Didn't realise you wouldn't be back in time." 

"Oh, yeah sorry I should've told you I'd be late."

"Work?" 

"No, the er... I was at the... church." 

She pushed her glasses onto her head, looking up at you with pursed lips. 

"What?" you asked with a nervous laugh. "I just... I like helping out there." 

"I didn't say anything.," she replied, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't care what you believe in, as long as you don't get involved in one of those cults. I can't be doing with ending up on the news." 

You laughed again - a breathier, more genuine laugh - and sat down beside her, watching as she tucked flowers into loops of wire, arranging them until they looked just right. 

"I think he's good for you," she said. 

"Who?" 

"Your priest friend. He's a good person to have in your life. I think you need it; someone virtuous, moral."

Moral. You thought back to the night in the rectory, the things he'd whispered in your ear as he parted your legs, how his hands seemed most comfortable on your neck. You thought about the scuffs on his knuckles after he punched Alfie in the face for daring to come close to you, his fantasy of you kneeling before him at mass, the 'fuck it' he'd growled before kissing you not even an hour ago.

"And I'm not saying you're not those things," she continued. "But it's just... I suppose it's nice to know you've got a friend who's such a good influence, you know."

"Wow, and suddenly I feel ten years old again," you muttered sarcastically.

She tutted and elbowed you gently, pulling her glasses back down again.

You stood up and made your way into the kitchen where a plate sat alone on the tidy counter. You peeled back the foil on top to reveal a lukewarm dinner, not bothering to heat it up before returning to your seat in the dining room.

"Have you spoken to your estate agent friend yet?" your mother asked as she snipped the stem of an artificial sunflower.

"Mm," you began, trying to speak through a mouthful of food. You swallowed it quickly and continued. "I told you, he works in sales. Big stuff, you know, like multimillion pound stuff. I'd have more luck on Rightmove." 

"And have you?" 

"Nope. I've been checking constantly. Zoopla too, and On The Market and Prime Location and-"

"Okay, alright, I get the point." 

"Are you in a rush to get rid of me or something?" 

"What? No, no of course not. I just- I worry. You're my youngest, you know I worry." 

"I know." You sighed, pushing your fork around the plate.

"It's funny you haven't found anything though. I'm always seeing signs on places to let, especially near the town centre." 

"Oh no, I've found a couple of flats that'd be perfect. I just can't afford them. I mean, you're talking deposit, rent upfront, fees, furnishings... I haven't even managed to pay my phone bill this month, it's going to take me ages to save up." 

She let out a long, deflated sigh. "I wish I could help." 

"You can help with the phone bill if you want?" you joked. 

She chuckled, holding up the half-finished wreath to examine her work. 

The next week passed in a bland, monotonous blur. Each day a repetition of the last; go to work, waste the morning scrolling on real estate websites, eat the sandwich your mother packed for you, fix your posture whenever Dawn walked past your office. Then you'd get the bus home, accidentally head butt the hanging basket on your way into the house, eat dinner at the dining table and disappear into your childhood bedroom for the rest of the night. 

You were lying beneath your Care Bear bedsheets, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, remembering how you used to pick out patterns in them whenever you couldn't sleep. You loved Friday nights; going to bed knowing you wouldn't have to wake to the blare of an alarm, the buzz of your phone against the bedside table, to know you didn't have to look at any more baby pictures until Monday. No more tiny humans stuffed into wicker baskets, pudgy cheeks and scarily bendy limbs. 

Moonlight melted through a gap in the closed curtains, the lilac material swaying gently in the breeze seeping through the open window. You rolled onto your side, the small single bed creaking as you moved, and for a moment you found your mind wandering to the bed you'd left behind at Gina's house; wondered if they'd ever slept together beneath your sheets. 

No one had been there when you went to collect your belongings, but still your father stood watch like a bouncer as you slogged box after box down the stairs. It was all in storage now. Everything you owned sitting in your father's garage, biding its time, waiting for a place to belong. Much like you; tucked away, collecting dust.

You reached for your phone, squinting as the screen came to life in the dark. You opened a new message and began to type before deleting it, then typing, then deleting, then typing. The cursor blinked as you stared at the blank text bubble, like it was waiting for you, ticking like a clock or the tapping of an impatient foot. 

So what exactly do priests text about? you finally wrote, pressing send and putting the phone face down on the nightstand. 

There was a buzz soon after. You grabbed it immediately. 

I see you finally paid your bill, the message read. 

You smiled.

How did you know it was me? you sent. 

Educated guess.

You began to type, but you paused when you saw he was typing too. Then he stopped, then kept writing, then stopped again. You wondered what he was so hesitant to say, what thought he couldn't find the words for. 

Do you need any help at church this weekend? you wrote.

Ok now I'm not so sure this is actually Ellis..

Hey, I'm just trying to get back in the Lord's good books. 

Were you ever in his good books to start with? 

You giggled, fingers absentmindedly finding your lips and running softly back and forth over them, searching for an ache, the tingle of a kiss that was beginning to fade.

A breeze carried the faint sound of music across the church grounds, the evening sun still bright and warm as you walked across the plush grass. Your hands were planted firmly on your backside, holding down the bottom of your summer dress as the wind tried to lift it. 

There was a signboard outside the entrance to the function hall: Parish Singles Mixer This Way. You held back the urge to laugh, taking a moment to compose yourself before walking inside where June's eyes immediately trailed the length of you. 

"Hello," you said awkwardly. 

"It started at seven, you know," she said, glancing down at her watch. 

"What time is it now?" 

"Half past." 

"Oh. Sorry. Well I suppose it could be worse; at least I'm sober." You breathed out a laugh.  

June's face remained sullen. You cleared your throat. 

"I'll just... see you inside," you said.

You walked past her and stopped in the doorway, pressing your lips together as you took in the sight of the decorated hall, the round tables covered with paper tablecloths and sprinklings of shiny confetti. 

Music played from a large speaker at the back of the room. A church volunteer named Keith was sat beside it with a laptop, like a DJ who'd forgotten his equipment. Men and women filled the space, dressed in their best shirts and loveliest dresses with name tags on their chests. Some talked in pairs, others gathered in large same-sex groups like nervous teenagers. 

You didn't realise your mouth had opened, gawping slightly at the wonderfully pitiful scene before you. You'd never been to a single's night before, but you were certain they weren't supposed to look like this. 

You turned to a table beside you where a stack of blank name tags and a box of markers sat neatly. You took one and wrote your name, sticking it to your left breast with a crude slap.

"This started half an hour ago, you know." Father Benedict's voice was like silk in your ear, so smooth you didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance behind you. 

You turned and looked up at him. "You religious folk are weirdly concerned with punctuality." 

He smiled, eyes flitting down to your chest then back up to your face. "Why've you put a name tag on?" 

"Isn't that what they're there for?" 

"Yes, for the singles." 

"I'm single..." 

There was a long silence. You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, eyes closing with a slow blink and a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. 

"Catholic singles," he said. 

"Ah, so that's why it feels like a high school prom in here." You paused. "Actually no, it doesn't. People got so drunk at my prom they were throwing up outside, and I know of at least four girls who got fingered in the toilets."

"Were you one of them?"

You hit him hard on the arm. He chuckled, pulling at the white collar around his neck, his gaze staying on you for slightly too long. 

It was like you'd been holding tension in your joints all week and they'd finally loosened in his presence. Like his desire was a salve that provided relief, a lingering stare that could soothe any ache.

"Hi, by the way," he said.

"Hi."

"I wasn't sure you'd actually show." 

"Are you joking? And miss this inevitable disaster?" 

He smiled. "I'll have you know I held one of these events at my last parish and it was a huge success." 

"Oh, you fingered someone in the toilets?" 

He rolled his eyes.

"You got fingered...?" 

"Stop saying fingered," he whispered, holding back a laugh.

"Sorry." You lowered your gaze apologetically, before looking back up at him with a slight smirk.

His chest expanded with a slow, deep inhale, his eyes fixed on yours, switching focus from left to right as though searching for something behind them. Eventually he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

"I need to get this mixer actually mixing," he said. "Would you mind manning the drinks table for a bit?" 

You nodded with a quiet laugh. "Sure." 

He wandered off through the hall, stopping to talk with people, shaking hands and breaking ice. It was captivating to watch someone navigate a crowd with such ease; to charm even the most shy people out of their shells and have them willingly follow. 

The drinks table was a sad affair; a stack of plastic cups and two pitchers of lukewarm, watered down juice. You pulled up a chair and sat down behind it, scanning the room, your gaze falling on a couple who seemed to be hitting it off. She laughed at something he said, reached out and touched his arm. He ran a hand through his hair, the blush of his cheeks so pink you could see it from across the room.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I got myself a drink?"

You looked up to see a man pointing to the cups. You shook your head and gestured for him to go ahead. He was wearing a bowtie, the sleeves of his shirt slightly too short for his long arms as he reached for one of the pitchers. He appeared around your age, but his sheepish demeanour made him seem younger. You narrowed your eyes to read his name tag - Abel - you laughed. 

He shifted uncomfortably. "D-did I do something funny?" 

"No, sorry." You waved your hand. "It's just... Abel. My brother's name is Cain. Y'know, Cain and Abel." 

"Ah." His laugh was laced with relief. "He's not here is he? I'd have to run and hide." 

"Oh no, he's dead." 

There was an awkward silence, his eyes widening as he struggled to find an appropriate response.

"Oh, you were making a bible joke," you said. "Sorry, I just got it." 

He relaxed again, exhaling a weak laugh and taking a large chug of juice.

You glanced over at Father Benedict as he tried desperately to introduce people to one another, your eyes trailing down to his backside. 

"So are you a volunteer or a... single?" asked Abel, snapping you out of your lecherous daze. 

You shrugged. "Both, I suppose." 

"Oh, cool." He hovered at the table for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing." 

"By the looks of it, no one does." 

He laughed. "It's a bit embarrassing really, isn't it; needing a special event just to meet someone." 

"Church people, they're a picky bunch." 

He laughed again, more heartily this time. 

"Hi guys," said Father Benedict as he approached the table, ducking down to count the bottles of juice near your feet. "How's your evening going?"

"It's alright," said Abel, gesturing towards you with a smile. "Better now I've met Ellis here."

You smiled back politely.

Father Benedict straightened to his full height, hand finding the back of your chair with a tight grip as he looked down at you. "Oh really?"

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, surprised to find flecks of jealousy in the lines of his face. 

"That's nice," he said, back teeth pressed firmly together. "But I actually need to borrow you for a second if that's alright?" 

You turned back to Abel. "Sorry." 

"Oh, yeah no it's- no problem. We can chat in a bit." 

You nodded, watching as he wandered off awkwardly through the crowd.

"What's up?" you asked, turning your attention back to Father Benedict.

"Could you refill these jugs?" He lifted a large bottle of cordial onto the table. "What's that about?" 

"What's what about?"

"Him."

"Oh, his name's Abel. He seems nice." 

"No, I know who he is, he works at the school. I meant what were you doing talking to him?" 

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you jealous, Father?" 

He glanced over his shoulder at him, then back to you. "Nah, he's not my type." 

You scoffed quietly and stood up, wrapping your fingers around the bottle lid and attempting to turn it. It was tight, stiff, making the palm of your hand ache as you tried to force it open.  

"I think he's nervous," you said. "Says something when I'm the most approachable person here."  

"Or maybe he just fancies you," he replied, taking the bottle from you and opening it with an easy twist. 

"Maybe." You paused. "Would that bother you? If he did?" 

He pressed the tip of his tongue to his top lip, the corner of his mouth curling with a slight smile.

"I can't control who fancies you, Ellis. I just hope you remember the promise you made..." 

"No one touches me unless they're worthy?"  

"That's the one."

"Including you?" 

He looked down at you, throat bobbing with a slow swallow. "Including me." 

"So... That kiss last week..." 

"Oh, that wasn't because I think I'm worthy. That was because I have no self control."

You exhaled a laugh through your nose. "How's your self control doing tonight?" 

"It's hanging on... By a thread." 

"It's the dress, isn't it." 

He bowed his head, chuckling quietly as he walked away. 

And as quickly as it had dissipated, the tension returned again. But this time it wasn't in your joints. It was in your chest, your core, in the swelling heat between your legs. You licked your lips and sat back down. 

Abel was talking but you couldn't hear a word, chewing on the rim of your plastic cup as you stared past him, eyes fixed on your priest and the woman he'd been chatting to for far too long. 

"Ellis?" 

"Hm?" 

"I asked you a question," Abel laughed. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" 

"I asked when your last relationship was." 

"Oh, er, it was recent." 

He nodded with interest. "How recent?" 

"Like... recent recent. He cheated on me, it was a whole thing."

"Oh, wow, I-I'm sorry to hear that." 

The night had crept up slowly, darkness turning the windows to glossy, black mirrors as the coloured lights inside the hall glittered against them. The atmosphere had relaxed; the room buzzing with joy and laughter as connections formed and inhibitions melted away. You wondered how many weddings would come from this evening, how many love stories you'd witnessed the birth of.

The woman reached out, brushing something off Father Benedict's shoulder, smiling and continuing to talk as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"Ellis? You've disappeared again," Abel laughed. 

"Sorry. Sorry, I- I'll just be a minute, I have to..." you trailed off, standing up before he could even respond and walking quickly across the hall.

You tapped Father Benedict on the shoulder and the woman stopped talking, turning her head slowly to look at you. 

"Sorry for interrupting," you said.

"No need to apologise," he replied, placing a hand on your back as though he'd forgotten where he was. "Ellis, this is Meg, she just passed her training to become a lay minister." 

"Oh, congratulations," you said. 

She gave a wry smile. 

"Meg, Ellis is a... friend of the church." 

"Acquaintance, really," you said. "Friend is a bit strong." 

He rolled his eyes, prodding his fingers firmly into your back.

"It's nice to meet you, Ellis," she said. 

You nodded before turning to look up at Father Benedict. "I was just wondering if you wanted me to go around and clean up the empty cups?" 

"That'd be great." 

You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment before conceding and walking away, listening to Meg talk again, as though you'd never interrupted them. 

The bin bag was making your palm sweat, the shiny, black plastic sticking to your leg whenever you moved. You groaned and kicked it away again, reaching for a collection of used cups rimmed with lipstick. You threw them in the bag and moved to the next table, catching the eye of a man who flashed you a hopeful smile. You smiled back politely and kept walking, peeling the name tag from your chest, crumpling it in your fist and throwing it away. 

You threw another few cups in the bag and peered over at the spot where Father Benedict and Meg had been standing, but instead of the tall, dark priest, a young woman stood in his place. You furrowed your brow, scanning the room for him. He was gone. 

You felt something cold on your foot, looking down to find a quickening stream of juice dripping from the bag. You swore under your breath, grimacing as you marched it at arm's length out of the hall and into a small, quiet stock room. You shoved the bag into a bin in the corner and grabbed a roll of tissue, unravelling more than you needed and bending down to wipe away the sweet, sticky mess trickling down the side of your shoe. 

The door opened suddenly, making you jump in fright, losing your balance and falling back onto the floor. Father Benedict's deep, throaty laugh thrummed into the quiet space. He made his way over to you and reached out his hand. 

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You blew out a breath and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. "The bag split." 

"Ugh, are you alright?" 

"I think I'll survive." 

He took a step back towards the door, leaning against the frame as he listened to the muffled noise seeping out of the hall. 

"Tonight's going well, don't you think?" he said proudly. 

"Mhm, I see at least one person's getting fingered in the toilets," you replied sarcastically. 

His brows came together over confused eyes. He thought for a moment, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you.

"Wh- Meg?"

"Yeah, you seemed to really be hitting it off in there."

He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to grin. "She's moving to my old parish next month, wants me to recommend her to the minister there. That's all." 

"Oh. Good luck to her."

"Now who's the jealous one," he teased. 

You rummaged through a cupboard near the bin, pulling out a roll of fresh bags. He cocked his head as he watched you, analysing you.  

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You blew out a puff of air, lifting a stray lock of hair out of your face. "Well, considering I'm a grown woman who lives with her mum, my capacity for 'okay' only stretches so far."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "And you haven't had any more trouble from what's-his-face, have you?"

"No, I think he's scared of me since you gave him that nose job." 

He covered his eyes with his hand, dragging it slowly down his face. "I still can't believe I did that. I don't know what got into me-"

"It's okay. I found it quite sexy." 

"Why am I not the least bit surprised?" 

You smiled, bowing your head as you tried to tear a bag from the roll. 

"Here," he said as he walked over to you.

You watched his hands as they gripped the plastic, ripping it apart with a forceful pull. He handed a bag to you and tossed the rest aside. 

"Thanks," you said, clearing your throat as you looked up at him. 

The last time you were this close, he had just kissed you; his breath ragged, eyes burning with a heat you could feel beneath your skin. You'd spent every moment since wondering what might have happened if you'd stayed, if that single thread of self control had torn under the weight of his desire.  

He swallowed, eyes flitting down to your lips, and in that moment you knew he'd been wondering the exact same thing. You shivered as his hand settled tentatively on your hip, your breath shaking as his fingertips moved to graze your thigh beneath the hem of your dress. 

"You took your name tag off" he said quietly. 

"Yeah," you replied, barely whispering. "You were right, I shouldn't have been wearing it." 

"Why?" 

"Because I didn't come for the mixer..." 

"Then why did you come?" He shifted closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face, the tickle of his touch travelling further beneath your dress. 

You could feel goosebumps puckering down your arms, desire blooming deep in your core. You welcomed his caress, leaning into it, granting him access to your body like a gift. You gazed up at him with heavy lids, breaths turning shallow as he leaned forward, bringing his lips inches from yours. 

"Why?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble in the base of his throat. 

"Probably the same reason you keep inviting me back," you whispered.

Your lips met in a slow, heavy kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth without any hesitation. You sighed against him, eyes closing, losing yourself in a taste you'd come to crave. It didn't matter that beyond the door was a hall full of people, that if anyone saw you it would mean the end; not just for him, but for you too. In this moment, all you cared about was the feeling of his hands on your skin, the groan that escaped him when you gently sucked on his bottom lip. 

"Hi June, I'm looking for Ellis," Abel's voice echoed from the foyer. "About this tall, she's wearing a dress with flowers on?" 

You pulled apart quickly, foreheads resting against each other. 

"Fucking hell," you hissed.

"Another holy intervention," Father Benedict muttered.

"No, just a man in a bow tie," you sighed.

You were crouched behind the drinks table. Partly because you had to pack everything away, but mostly because you were hiding. 

Abel was nice. Funny, well-intentioned, handsome if not slightly gawky. And maybe in another world, you could have given him a chance; gone for coffee, held hands as he walked you home, kissed goodnight on the doorstep. But in this world, there was a priest. 

You peered over the table, watching as the singles sat in groups around the room, cards stuck to their foreheads and pens in their hands. Abel was sat amongst them, playing opposite a shy, giggly woman, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears. You smiled and sank back down behind the table, breathing out a sigh of relief before packing up the last few cups into a large cardboard box. 

You walked out of the hall and down the path towards the church, the box obscuring your view as you lugged it in your arms. The night air was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass through the air. You'd always preferred the colder months, but there was something about the air when spring turned to summer - the way it smelled, how it sat on the skin like a gentle embrace - that always reminded you to breathe, to fill your lungs to the brim and savour the feeling. 

You pushed through the side door of the church with your hip, letting it swing closed behind you as you stepped inside. You walked down the quiet corridor, the air still close and suffocating from the day's heat, and with a tired huff, you dumped the box on the floor inside Father Benedict's office.

"Father?" you called out, met with nothing but silence.

You couldn't help but wander down to the chapel, the dark, echoey space so still and serene that even your exhales felt out of place. You paused to bask in the solitude; the smells you'd come to find comfort in, the feel of the carpet beneath the soles of your shoes. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, when a sudden shiver rolled down your back at the sound of footsteps behind you. 

You turned around, eyes settling on a tall, dark frame emerging from the corridor. He stopped just beyond the threshold, standing with his hands in his pockets, the flash of white around his neck still visible even in the dim light. 

"I couldn't remember where you said to put the stuff so I threw it in your office," you said. 

"Threw it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"If you want the job done well, pay me." 

He chuckled before looking around at the empty pews, the darkness beyond the stained glass windows. You watched as he made his way to the altar, walking leisurely, hands still in his pockets. He turned on his heels to face you, gesturing with his head for you to come to him. 

You didn't question it, doing as he instructed like an obedient servant, following orders without a single word. Your heart began to race as you stood before him, the fluttering in your chest mirrored by a rippling deep in your stomach the moment your eyes met. 

"Kneel," he said calmly.  

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the church. 

"It's just us," he said.

"And him..." you replied, nodding to the statue of Christ behind him. 

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't concede. You swallowed hard, lowering yourself slowly to your knees, ignoring the burn of the rough carpet against your skin. 

You reached up, each action careful and considerate, like you feared you'd startle him back to sense if you made any sudden movements. He kept his eyes on you, gazing down as your fingers found the buttons of his trousers, releasing each one with a gentle pop. He placed a hand on your face, thumb pressing to your bottom lip and dragging it down to reveal your tongue. You stuck it out willingly, watching shadows form in the angles of his face as he pushed it into your mouth. His eyelids fluttered slightly as you sucked on it, and you held back the urge to smile. 

You parted his fly and slipped your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear, gripping the base of his cock and releasing it eagerly. He was hard, rigid and pulsing with even the lightest graze of your fingers, but he remained calm, unwavering in his composure, only the slight quiver of his breath giving him away. This was his fantasy - he'd already told you - and you'd wanted so desperately to make it come true. 

You flattened your tongue and dragged it up the underside of his length, drawing a deep groan from his throat as he moved his hand back to the side of your face. You'd never much cared for giving blow jobs; finding them boring, awkward, an unsexy act that left you with an aching jaw and numb lips. But the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable, the tingle of your hardening nipples making you shudder with excitement. You slid him into your mouth, sinking halfway before pulling back and glancing up at him, seeking approval, wanting to be led. 

He inhaled sharply through his nose, letting his head fall back as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it before taking it back into your mouth. You moved at a steady pace, drawing him deeper each time until you were struggling to breathe. He took your hair in fistfuls, guiding you gently, his rich moans pouring over you like warm, sweet honey.

You felt a hard prod at the back of your throat, the sensation making you gag, choking back a cough as you pushed his hips back to catch your breath. He buckled at the sound, swearing under his breath as he struggled to stay upright. He liked it; the sound of you gagging, the rush of thick saliva coating his cock. 

You reached up and took both of his wrists, moving his grip to the back of your head before dropping your hands behind your back. He groaned in delicious realisation, the silent permission to use your mouth unlocking a forcefulness that took you by surprise. 

His fingers tangled in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. You held your breath as he sank deep, pulling back and repeating the action with a quiet growl. You fought the urge to move your hands and take back control, keeping your fingers clasped tightly behind your back, trusting him not to push you too far. 

Your eyes were watering, nose running, spit escaping from the corners of your mouth. You were certain it was the most unattractive you'd ever looked, yet there was a thrill in letting go; the veneer of uncertainty shattering with every snap of his hips. 

A string of incoherent whispers spilled out of him as he came, cock throbbing against your tongue and coating your throat with his rapture. You gasped when he slid out of your mouth, as if he'd been holding your head below water and had finally brought you up for air. 

He cupped your face, staring down at you in awe. You wiped your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you gazed up at him, your breathing still rapid and uneven, swollen lips parted in awe of his beauty. He tucked himself back into his trousers, not bothering to button them before kneeling with you and running his thumbs under your eyes, swiping at the smudges of tears and mascara that had pooled there. You reached up instinctively to hold his forearms, balancing yourself, as he continued to wipe away the mess he'd created, his movements so gentle and considered it was hard to believe he was capable of anything other than tenderness.

"Stay with me tonight," he said softly.

You nodded, unsure how you would ever be able to leave him again.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[burntb4bydoll]

I love your writing soo much it hurts. 🥲

Can you please write like a 2000s bill smut or fluff ( whatever you feel comfortable with), where they build a pillows and blankets fort together and they end up falling asleep cuddled. And the rest of the band takes photos and mocks them the next day.

At this point I need fics to breathe. Thanks ✌

Thank you so much beautiful<3

This is such a cute idea! Im gonna do fluff for the people that dont like smut, cuz i feel like i dont post a lot of only fluff fics!

Bill Kaulitz x reader

Warnings: friends to loverssss🤭, nothing else really just a lot of cute stuff

When Bill had invited you to come over, you didn’t think this is what you guys would end up doing. You’re currently helping Bill set up a massive blanket fort in his living room. He originally invited you over to watch a movie, but after you arrived he decided that he wanted to make it more fun by making a fort. Even though you didn’t expect it, you were having so much fun hanging out alone with him. After you guys finished setting up the fort, Bill let you pick out a movie and you laid next to each other to watch it.

“This is fun. We should hangout alone more often. I feel like we only ever spend time with the band, I like having this type of one on one time together.” Bills attention left the tv screen to look over at you as you started talking. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with them too but you know…”

“I know. I like this too. I’ve actually been trying to hangout with you alone for a while now, but uhh things never really go as planned…” he trailed off, his eyes moving down to break your intense eye contact. He awkwardly shifted for a minute before turning to fully face you. His head still laid on the pillow, but now he was looking at you. “Um..I actually invited you here to tell you something. Its kinda important to me…” you turned to face him too. Now you were only a few inches away from one another, you could practically feel his uneven breath hitting you.

“Whats up? You seem nervous. You know I won’t judge you, Bill.” Your hand comes up to hold his hand comfortingly. He takes a shaky breath in and stares into your eyes,

“Y/n, I really like you. And not as a friend. I wanna be your boyfriend so bad. Not a day goes by where I don’t dream about being with you.” Your eyes go wide, inhaling sharply.

“Bill..I like you too. I was literally going to tell you tonight.” He looks at you with a blank expression for a moment before giggling loudly. His adorable laugh made you giggle too. Once you two calm down a little he starts talking again,

“Oh my god I was so nervous! I can’t believe I was so stressed for nothing!” He laughs softly, leaning closer to you. You smile and shake your head, just happy that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. “Can I…can I kiss you?” You nod eagerly as his hands cup your face gently. He slowly leans in, placing a experimental kiss on your lips. Once you both relax a bit, the kiss turns passionate and intimate. He pulls away and gives one last peck on your lips before tucking his head underneath yours and holding your waist tightly. Before you knew it, both of you fell asleep in each others arms.

You woke up the next morning to hearing some snickers and giggles. Sitting up slightly, you groggily rubbed your eyes and looked around the room. When your eyes finally focused you realized what was happening. Bill was curled up against your side with his head laying on your shoulder. His hair was messy and he was drooling a little. The rest of the band was standing above you guys, taking pictures and laughing. Bill stirred and sat up, groaning at his brothers loud laughter.

“What are you guys doing here? You’re so annoying!” Bill grumbles, swatting away the camera that Gustav had shoved in his face.

“What are we doing here?” Tom exclaimed, “What are you guys doing here? We’re not the ones all cuddled up and being all lovey-dovey!” Georg and Gustav bursted into another fit of giggles, looking at the pictures they had took of you.

“Hey! You better delete those! I did not agree to have my picture taken, especially while I’m sleeping!” Bill jumped up and started to chase Georg around, trying to retrieve his camera. You giggled a little and laid back down.

“Its too damn early for this. Fuck you guys I’m going back to sleep.”

[xotaemintol]

SUB!JINKI X READER: MOMMYS GOOD BOY (SUBBY SEPTEMBER)

“Touch me there, I want you to touch me there.”

Yes ik we are well past subby September, but I still wanted to post the things I had started writing for the event/finish them. Jinki was next on my list before writers block hit and now I’m finally posting it after constant editing lol.

PRONOUNS USED: None (Mommy)

TWS: Masturbation, riding, unprotected sex, grinding, sub idol, dom reader.

Word count: 944

All he had to do was wait ten more minutes, you told him that you'd be home soon to help alleviate his 'stress' but you could tell by the desperation in his voice that he wouldn't make it. The way he begged and pleaded for you to get home faster told you that he was feeling particularly impatient tonight, but you had hope that Jinki would ignore his urges and be a good boy like usual. But you were unfortunately too hopeful. He thought that maybe just touching himself a little wouldn't count, so instead of undressing he slowly rubbed his hand over the bulge in his thin pajama pants. The intense chills he felt all throughout his body made his toes curl, it had been so long since the last time you had touched him. Quickly becoming lost in the feeling, he closed his eyes and pictured you there, grinning at him as you playfully teased him and praised him for doing such a good job. The moment he did that it became almost impossible to hold himself back. Tempted to slip his hands into his pants, Jinki let out a soft moan as he started to slowly stroke himself through the soft material.

Before he knew it, he was desperately thrusting into his hand, still fully clothed as he waited for you. It felt like it had been hours but only five minutes had passed, and as he counted the seconds he started to realize that if he kept going like this then he'd cum before he even got to see you, but it felt too good for him to stop. He didn't even stop when he heard the front door opening or when he heard your sweet voice calling his name, by the time you had finally gotten into the room, his eyes were already closed as he replayed the sound of you calling his name in his head over and over again, completely lost in his pleasure and mind.

"Oh, Jinki…my poor baby..." His eyes open and he slowly turns his head to you, looking you in the eyes. He looked so broken already with his cheeks flushed, his eyebrows knotted, his eyes low, and gentle moans leaving his mouth as he fucked his hand out of pure desperation. "Didn't I tell you to wait?" Your gentle tone only made him want you more, although he knew that he should've stopped he was too far gone, and looking at you only increased that selfish need. "M-Mommy...please...please fuck me," Finally, he moves his hand, whimpering at the loss of contact as he stands up. As he towers over you his expression remains as submissive as ever, his body is broad and his presence is lustful and intense, just looking in his eyes made you want to drop to your knees and please him until he broke out into tears. "Do you think you deserve it?" You asked as you put your hand on his chest, his breathing became more uneven and you could feel his heart pounding, it never ceases to amaze you how excited he gets and how easily it happens.

"Yes, I've been a good boy...please, please ride me, ma'am," How could you deny him? Even though he hadn’t listened his heavy voice and passionate eyes gave you more than enough reason to give him what he wanted. So you sat on the bed and looked up at him as you crossed your legs and said: "Strip." In his overly sexual state, there was no room for shame or embarrassment, so just as quickly as you said to, Jinki began to take off his clothes, happy to finally be freed from his cotton confinements. "Good boy," You said, as you look him up and down you feel yourself becoming excited, the way his cock jumped at the sound of your voice made you feel more than pleased, "Now, undress me." As you said this you laid on your back and spread your legs for him with a grin, Jinki knew that this meant he had free reign to do as he wished to your body, so as he slipped your heels off he worshipped your legs, and as he slid your skirt off his worshipped your thighs, and when he came up to unbutton your blouse he paused for a second to kiss you.

Your tongue rolled around as he moaned into your mouth while grinding against your leg, his wandering hands touched every inch of your body in reach, sliding between your thighs as he began kissing your neck. The only thing on his mind was pleasing you and getting you just as excited, as badly as he wanted to rush, he wanted you to feel just as good, so he took his time as he slid his fingers past the waistband of your underwear, and massaged delicate circles on your clit as he kissed down the middle of your chest. In a matter of seconds you were grinding against his hand as you arched your back, the desire to feel him inside of you was building and you, unlike Jinki, didn't want to wait any longer.

"That enough..." You breathed out, "Sit down." Those four words were enough for him, as he sat on the bed you quickly took off the last of your clothes before climbing on top of him. “Mommy’s gonna give you a special treat for being such a good fucking boy,” As the head of his cock slipped inside of you, he holds his breath and you brace yourself, the slightest touch felt like you were going crazy and the way he trembled and watched it go inside, inch by inch, gave you butterflies. “Is that what you want baby boy?” Jinki whimpered, leaning his head back as he let out a stifled moan and closed his eyes tightly as he responded in a hushed and broken voice: “Yes…Yes, mommy.”

[smittxkittxn]

i have this fantasy that plays on repeat in my head every time i’m in the gym of there being a co-ed sauna and i’m the only woman in there with six sexy massive men. just the thought of it alone makes my heart race, imagining just how being in a hot cramped room with everyone sweating and in little to no clothing is enough to make me pant with my tongue out. i usually go into the sauna in just my sports bra and whatever shorts i had been wearing, but what if all these men had just come from the showers and were in nothing but a little white towel around their waist? my mouth is literally watering.

fuck i can just picture myself getting so hot and bothered as they all watch me, eyes travelling down to watch the sweat roll between my breasts, only to notice how hard my nipples are through my sports bra. i can’t help but want to uncross my legs so their eyes travel even further only to see the little wet spot i’ve made on my tight spandex shorts because of just how horny i am. i would sink to my knees the moment they asked, sitting there with my tongue out like a good little slut.

at first, they’d watch me for a moment before one would make the first move, beckoning me forward with a crook of his finger. i eagerly shuffle towards him on my knees, sitting back so i’m eye level with his knees. he’d slowly open them until there was just enough space for my head to slip between his thighs, the towel still covering his growing cock, already twitching in anticipation.

i lean my body forward until i can rest my hands on the ground before me, reaching forward with my mouth to take the tip of his cock past my lips, flicking my tongue along the seam as i pause. he moans and thrusts his hips forward a bit, urging me to keep going. i whimper as i start to push my lips lower down his cock, nice and slow with my tongue stroking along the bottom, until i’m able to press my lips against the base. i start to gag and pull back just a bit, only for his hands to grip my hair and hold me there as he thrusts shallowly into the back of my throat.

his moans grow louder and my body trembles as i try to keep myself upright, choking on his throbbing cock. one of his hands releases my hair to remove his towel and i look up at him with big eyes and drool spilling past my lips. he groans and i whimper, making him thrust harder and harder into the back of my throat. i can hear the men around me moving, but in the distance as i’m completely focused on maintaining eye contact with him.

his thrusts become uneven and i feel his cock harden even further, gagging hard as he takes up more space inside my mouth and throat. i watch his eyes turn glassy and he whimpers this time just before pulling out and saying “tongue out, little slut”. his fist moves from my hair to his cock and pumps it twice before he coats my tongue in his hot cum, both of us moaning as he does. i hear a chorus of curses around us as the other men watch it happen. he looks down at me as he reaches forward and wipes up a bit of his cum that had slipped out of my mouth with his thumb, only to place in on my tongue as he says “swallow it all.”

[1wishand1thought]

SNEAKY LITTLE FOX

| Kaz Brekker and fem y/n|

Y/n, a secret Crow for all the team but Kaz, finds her boss jerking off in his dorm after she goes to visit him for job matters only.

You can find part 2 here

⚠️ Warnings: obscene words, masturbation.

I apologize in advance for any misspelling/grammatical error🥲 I did proofread it a thousand times before posting it but just in case you find one I'm truly sorry, my main language isn't English. Now let's spice things up a bit bahaha

Kaz Brekker was known for many things as nicknames he has been given. The complete opposite happened with y/n, "the fox", as he once called her.

She was one of the Crows, but no other member of the group knew of her existence, only Kaz knew, part of it was due to the deal they made where she prohibited Kaz to tell anyone else about her.

Kaz was good with it, but he was doubting that feeling now. It's been over a year, and this weird sensation has only gotten bigger, more condescending,  and more... impossible to hold back.

He was 23 years old now, it's been years since Inej left Ketterdam and he was good with it, he knew he wouldn't be able to give her what she deserved anyways. Currently, his mind was foggy with y/n face more than usual, his ears repeated her sarcastic, yet captivating voice. And when it came of her body... ohh.

He has found himself craving for touch as much as he despised skin-to-skin touch.  He has made some progress with it through the years though. He would sit on his desk chair or his bed and would find himself stroking his cock after a long day to get rid of the huge stress.

But what he didn't know, is that y/n was nearby in every one of those moments. She didn't stand there much of course, but it was as if the saints would lead her to see him touching himself just to make her panic. She has caught him doing it several times in the last 5 months. Every time it happened, y/n would leave the second she saw his bare hand grabbing something between his legs,  she would never break his privacy like that.

And, as she never stood over 3 seconds,  she never got the chance of hearing her name leave his mouth. Sometimes as low growls, other times as whimpers, and right now, it was a mix of both.

His mind had a good side beside the terrible one. The bad one was his memories frequently tormenting him, and the good one, was the ability he had to imagine her body like a picture, one he has never seen yet found printed in his mind.

He could imagine how her light brown eyes would look up at his body while his thrusts got faster, going in and out of her, the throbbing sound mixed with the moans echoing in the room. He also imagined how her eyes rolled to the back of her head while she muttered his name, or even better, screamed it.

"Hmmm Kazz!" he imagined her yelling, begging for more, and squirting when she felt his tongue doing magic on her cunt.

He bit his lower lip, his hand wet with his arousal. Shaky, uneven whimpers followed.

A minute later he found himself whimpering, leaving soft moans of pleasure as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

At that moment y/n was heading to check on him, her second weekly visit to see what schemes Kaz had planned for the Crows to work in, or to see if he had settled a specific mission for her, and her only. She was some paces away from the window of his dorm when she heard him calling her name. At first, she didn't get the words right, it wasn't until she got a bit closer that she heard her name being spoken by a voice, his. She wasn't certain of what was going on in there, it sounded... soft... unusual in Kaz's icy voice.

She swallowed hard when she realized it after reaching the window. The dim light of the moon enlightened the dark room. The brighter spot was hitting Kaz's body.

He was holding his erect length, his hand going up and down, touching the pink tip of his dick as he kept breathing heavily. He was calling her, pleasing her in his mind. He was picturing himself touching her skin, her breasts. Licking her nipples as she grabbed his hair asking for more.

"Y/n... Oh ... fuck" he mumbled, a shaky rough whisper loud enough for her to hear at the window.

She froze, she didn't know what to do. She wanted to leave, run and pretend this never happened as she managed to do several times before.

But this time was different, her light feet were glued to the floor, she couldn't move, and the sight was too... pleasant. Like a tower full of Kruger she couldn't stop staring at. That was until he locked eyes with the figure standing at the entry of the window. He recognized her immediately. His eyes took in an intense feeling of embarrassment mixed with lust.

He wasn't Kaz Brekker anymore, he was Dirtyhands now. He didn't stop his hand movement. The environment grew hotter, his cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the moment. A part of him wanted her to look, the other part wanted to run and never have to look into her eyes again due to the embarrassment he felt.

Y/n looked at him in awe, with flushed cheeks as she never had before, and wide eyes as he jerked himself off in front of her. He never stopped doing it, nor did he avoid eye contact with her bewildered big eyes. Instead, his eyes got darker, deeper, and full of desire.

She felt something growing inside her. The heat was evident. Until he came. It wasn't just a growl, he leaned his head backward, his mouth opened and his eyes shut closed. The vein of his neck was marked showing how intense the pleasure was.

"Oh fuuuck" he whimpered, the white cum splashing over his stomach and covering his bare hand. She, on the other hand, was crossing her legs and biting her lower lip as hard as she could to not let out the loud moan she was holding back. All thanks to the(as much as she would like to deny) oddly appealing sight.

He opened his eyes again, now a small amusing grin plastered on his face. He was enjoying her look. Her still shocked face as she swallowed hard, her mind thinking on what to say.

He was still panting, sweaty loose strings of hair fell over his eyes, he took a deep breath as he grabbed a napkin and cleaned his hand covered in cum, and spoke, eyes locked in hers:

"My sneaky little fox, d'you liked the view?" Again, a crooked smile.

She didn't say anything, but deep inside, she knew she'd liked it. Indeed:

It was quite appealing, Brekker.

_____

Part 2 here

Any who, did you like it? Let me know in the comments, this is my first one-shot so if you have any suggestions on how can I improve my writing I'll take them happily 💓

[ineffable-endearments]

Trying to picture where Crowley goes from the end of S2 and it looks like this to me:

Sticking around Soho: I have read lots of fic and seen lots of art for this premise that I love. However, if I'm going to try to guess where actual canon might go, this option seems both too painful for him as a character and too stagnant for the story. Like, wasn't the point of the beginning of the season that he had stagnated? It feels like the Final Fifteen was the cataclysm that had finally broken that stagnation. Something about the flow of Crowley staying in or near Soho, or his Mayfair apartment, for that matter, doesn't seem right.

Going off to live his own solitary life, like as a hermit or as a snake in a cave or something: Seems way too boring for Crowley. He needs things to do.

Going off to live in a human community: This could happen. I could see him living in a human community that he wants to protect from the Second Coming. But it seems a little too healthy and well-adjusted for the climax of the story's conflict, right? No? Maybe? I think we see many signs that Crowley is moving in this direction in Season 2, but he might not quite be there yet. Or he could be! I started off thinking this probably isn't it because it felt too easy, but there's a bit of poetry to the Serpent establishing his very own Garden that he wants to protect and, after everything is said and done, accepting a lost angel into it. Er, maybe that's a bit too sugary or uneven. Idk. I'm rambling.

Going back to Hell to become a "proper" demon: Lol.

Going back to Hell to fight against Heaven: Mmmmaybe? My main problem with this is the fact that the strings in Hell are ultimately pulled by the same people/person who run things in Heaven (the Metatron?), and while I'm not sure he's explicitly said anything about it in the show yet, I think Crowley is savvy enough to figure that out. So rejoining Hell simply to abide by their rules and start another war does not seem exactly right. One of his primary points in the Final Fifteen was that you can't fight an oppressive system by cooperating with it, and in the end, Hell is cooperating with the system as much as Heaven is. I guess we could assume Crowley hasn't quite figured it out yet, and his discovery of who's really in charge could be a plot point.

Going back to Hell to agitate the demons to revolt: This feels pretty good to me. Whether it's by taking on a position of authority and secretly feeding a resistance or by taking advantage of the chaos to establish an openly-rebellious group, I feel like Crowley could do this. It feels right for a moment of high conflict because it would involve significant character growth - Crowley choosing to embark on a mission to save the world instead of haphazardly getting thrown into it. However, since he'd be actively working to undermine Hell and would have to figure out where he belongs if the system does indeed collapse, encouraging resistance would not, on its own, get him to where he needs or wants to be. There would still be plenty of room for change and growth.

Maybe, if Crowley tempts his fellow demons to enjoy Earth things like Aziraphale does, he could slowly get them working toward stopping any future Armageddons just because they, too, have found things they like on Earth. Encouraging demons to enjoy Earth would potentially give Crowley a chance to work with more humans. It would also give him a chance to work toward one goal (Hell saves Earth?) only to accidentally accomplish another (demons discover free will).

Mandatory acknowledgment that I could be COMICALLY wrong here.

[shadowdaddyazriel]

Some cass x reader x az PLEASEEEEEEE

Wine Night (Cassian x Azriel x Reader)

warnings: smut! threesome, poly, mxm, mxf, oral, penetrative, etc. you get the picture.

summary: You, Cassian, and Azriel are best friends. The three of you have a wine night at the house of wind and the night gets a little wild. (smut with fluff aftercare)

Leave me a comment if you enjoy! (It motivates me to write faster and helps me know what you guys enjoy! it's more appreciated than ya know!)

I woke up, drool coming out of the side of my mouth and onto the House of Wind’s leather couch. Wiping my mouth quickly in embarrassment, I sat up halfway, propping myself on my elbows and looked around. Cassian was passed out on a pallet of blankets in the floor and Azriel was sleeping in the armchair, legs propped up on the ottoman. 

I stirred, moving to stand. Creeping into the kitchen, I quietly poured myself a glass of water. Sipping it slowly, I gazed absentmindely into the sink. Cassian, Azriel, and I had all been drinking wine and cracking jokes well into the night, enjoying each others company all too well to turn in for the night and had all passed out in the living room.

The two boys had become my best friends. We had met a few months ago and had been pretty inseparable since. They made me feel accepted and wanted. It was nice. I had never really had friends like them before. They were funny without ever being mean, loyal to a fault, and surprisingly emotionally intelligent. Oh, and um… easy on the eyes. That is besides the point, though.

I turned, dropping the glass carefully into the sink before heading back into the living room. Azriel’s eyes sparkled in the darkness as he shifted his weight, alerting me to the fact that he was awake. I gave him a shy smile as he continued to stare at me. Cassian snored softly beside us, as heavy a sleeper as they came. I sat down on the side of the couch facing Azriel in the arm chair, swinging my legs so that my feet touched the other arm of the couch. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, still looking into Azriel’s eyes. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a sly grin. “Is that my hoodie?”

The blood rushed into my cheeks, my heart pounding. I had forgotten that in my drunken sleep I had gotten cold and had grabbed a sweatshirt from Azriel’s closet. Gods, why did I do that?

“I’m so sorry, I’ll take it off,” I said, sitting up to lift the sweatshirt over my head when Azriel spoke up.

“Don’t,” he said, “unless you’re taking what’s under it off too.”

Cauldron boil me alive. If I wasn’t blushing before, I sure as hell was now. My mouth fell open slightly as I searched for words. 

“Relax, pretty girl. You never have to do anything you don’t want to.” Wicked thoughts still glimmered within those hazel eyes and my stomach was filled with butterflies, my breathing uneven.

“Azriel? Where is this coming from?” I squeak out, my nerves much more obvious than I would have liked for it to have been. 

“Where’s what coming from?” He asks with a sly chuckle, tilting his head slightly, eyes crinkled in amusement. 

“You flirting with me.”

“I think my intentions have been clear since the beginning,” he said, his voice so deep I felt as though I could swim in it. 

“They haven’t.” I say, swallowing.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” he says, eyes finally averting to survey the room, including Cassian’s sleeping form, his quiet snores still filling the air as his huge chest rises and falls. 

I stare at him for another moment, surveying his side profile. Gods, was he gorgeous. His eyes fell back to mine, and he lifted his hand to gesture to me to come over. His gaze was so hot and intense I felt as though I might melt under it. Still, without even thinking about it, I began to slowly rise to my feet and step over to him until I was standing inches from where he sat. His legs dropped from the ottoman and he used his foot to scoot it farther away from him, making space for me to stand between his legs. 

His hands slowly rose to gently caress my hips, thumbs brushing soothing circles as his eyes took in my body, his lust apparent. He was looking at me like he wanted to ravish me. My cheeks were on fire, my body squirming under his heavy gaze. 

“You have no idea what seeing you in this,” he thumbs the fabric of his sweatshirt hanging off my body, “does to me.” 

“It smells like you. And maybe is a tiny bit too big for me,” I laugh, “but that made me like it more.” Az beams up at me, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that made my heart want to stop and my knees want to give out. Azriel is typically so somber and to himself, but in the moments he lets his walls down, he shines like moonlight. 

“Sit in my lap, angel,” he smiles, pulling me back onto him. I sit on one of his legs, both of mine between his as he stroked his hand down my back. My breathing was uneven, hands shaking as I clasped my hands together, unsure of what to do with myself. 

Azriel reached behind me to grab the wine bottle from the side table. He brought the bottle to his lips, drinking deeply from the dark red liquid as he kept his eyes on mine. He lowered the bottle, passing it to me. I lifted it to my own mouth as Azriel’s gaze fell to the way my lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle, and then fell more to watch the way my throat swallowed the liquid. When his eyes remet mine, his gaze was hooded and lusty. It made butterflies explode in my stomach, sending bolts of lightning straight to my core. 

We passed the bottle back and forth a few more times, joking and laughing with each other. The wine warmed my belly once again, and eventually I found myself squirming in Azriel’s lap, grinding myself back into him. He let out of a low growl, grabbing my hips with force. His fingers dug into my skin harshly as his chest rose and fell roughly. 

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He purred, mouth inches from my throat. “Tell me what you need, baby.” His breath was hot against my skin. My core was throbbing against his leg, and my cheeks heated at the idea that he might be able to feel it. Or that I knew he could scent my intense arousal. 

“Az,” I sighed, trying to press myself against his leg slightly to relieve some of the pressure building between my legs. Gods, I felt like I was in heat. Where was this coming from? Fucking faerie wine. It had to be an aphrodisiac of some sort. Because I wanted nothing more than to sink down onto Azriel as he took me roughly. 

“Use your words, angel. I wanna hear you say it.” 

“I need you to touch me, Azriel. Please,” I whined, leaning further into his touch. His mouth latched onto my neck and I felt wetness pooling in my panties, my core aching for him. He groaned, tongue swirling against my neck. I arched into him and his hand found my lower back, pushing me into him harder.

“Angel, I don’t know if this is where you want to start this unless you want to be filled with two Illyrian cocks,” he jokes against my neck, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. My head swirled quickly. I had forgotten Cassian was here. If he wouldn’t have been such a heavy sleeper and been drunk on faerie wine, he would have been awake already. “Although maybe that’s exactly what you wanted. Was it, sweet girl?”

I looked back to him, my shock apparent. But I hadn’t said no or argued, and he had noticed. He started grinning like a man gone mad, a deliciously wicked twinkle in his eyes. His shadows crept over his shoulders, perching and swirling around his torso. 

“Go wake him up, then,” he cooed, pushing me up off his lap and smacking my ass. I turned to grab his hand to pull him with me, and his gaze darkened. 

“Fucking filthy girl,” he whispered against my hair, kissing my temple as he followed me to where Cassian was sleeping. I knelt next to Cassian, hands slowly reaching down to stroke his hair. He stirred slightly, and I began to run a hand up and down his back. He lifted his head, eyes squinting into the darkness to take in the scene. His eyes flicked from me to Azriel, and a slow sleepy grin crossed his face. 

“Yes?” He chuckled, propping himself up on his hands and stretching out his legs. 

I stroke a hand down his broad chest, eyes following my fingers down and stopping just above the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath caught slightly, stomach twitching. 

My eyes met Cassian’s again as I tugged onto Azriel’s hand that was still clasped in mine to drag him closer to me at Cassian’s side. He scooted forward and I pressed my mouth to his own. He was stiff and confused at first but relaxed into my touch, my mouth parting as our tongues slipped into each other’s mouths. 

My hand once again trailed down Cassian’s chest as he reached out to gently wrap a hand around my wrist and lifted my hand. He pressed a gentle kiss to the center of my palm. I broke from Azriel’s kiss to lower my mouth to Cassian’s. 

If Azriel’s kiss was sensual and erotic, Cassian’s was all passion and lust. He gripped both sides of my head, tongue battling with mine. Two hands slid up my lower back before Azriel’s lips found the base of my spine. A shiver crossed my skin in anticipation of Azriel’s touch. He slowly kissed a line up my back as I moaned gently into Cassian’s mouth. 

“Pretty girl,” Azriel sighed into me once he reached the nape of my neck. He slid his hands around my body to cup my boobs. I pushed my ass back into him, finding him hard against my backside. He bit my neck gently, pushing himself into me harder, grinding his cock against me.

I broke Cassian’s kiss to look back and forth between the both of them, still panting from their touch. “You could have just asked if you wanted us both this badly,” Cassian murmured, brushing a hair from my face to tuck it behind my ear.

“Have you two done this before?” I ask, surveying both of their faces. Azriel nodded slightly. I blushed at the thought of another female being exactly where I was now, writhing between two of the hottest men alive. I bit my lip imagining the thought of the two of them sweaty and working a female, and even each other. 

“But never with someone like you,” Cassian whispers, running a hand down my arm. “Never with someone we loved.” I hated the way that heated my core and made my heart warm at the same time. 

“Now let us take care of you, angel,” Azriel murmured, hands gripping the edges of my shirt and lifting it up and over my head, baring my chest to both of them. I was only covered by a skimpy pink lace bralette that didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

They both hissed at the sight of my breasts. Azriel, still slightly behind me swiftly unbluckles the bra, sliding it down my arms. It falls from my body, my nipples peaked and prominent from arousal and the cold air. They shuffled their positions slightly, both of them taking one of my nipples into their mouth. Molten lava filled my core and I really and truly thought I might come only from their mouths devouring my breasts. 

Both of them groaned against my skin at the increased scent of my arousal and I whimpered, desperate for any friction against my core. Azriel’s teeth grazed my nipple as he released me, head raising to kiss me. Pulling back, he gave me a grin. 

“Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you, baby? About to take two cocks? I wonder who you want to fuck you first?” Cassian purrs,nipping at your earlobe. “Or if you want it gentle or rough? Is it my mouth you’ve fantasized eating that pretty cunt of yours, or was it my cock filling and fucking you?”

“Why should I have to pick between the two? Why not both?” I grin, turning my head to kiss him. I could feel him smiling against my kiss. 

“Then why the fuck are we still so clothed?” Azriel chuckled. As if on command, we all began to strip until there were no clothes left between us. My mouth went dry at the sight of the two of them, how beautiful and sculpted they looked. Literal statues of Greek gods. 

Cassian scooped me up, sitting me in his lap as he sat down on the ottoman. My back was pressed against his chest and his prominent length pressed against my core. I grinded against his cock, my soaked folds gliding against him in ecstasy. He groaned out, head tipping back. Azriel dropped to his knees in front of his, pushing both mine and Cassian’s knees apart. He gazed down at us. Me, splayed open for him and Cassian painfully hard. 

He lowered his mouth to me, the flat of his tongue gliding up my center. He whined at the taste of me, his fingers parting my folds. He gathered my wetness on two of his fingers and lifted them up. I expected him to press them to my lips, but instead, he reached behind me to slip them into Cassian’s mouth. Cassian groaned at the taste of me, his hands gripping my hips with impressive force and forcing my hips to grind against his cock. My eyes rolled back in my head as his cock slid through my folds but didn’t enter me. He wrapped both of his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sidesand pressing my back flush against his chest. He moved his already widely parted knees so that mine fell to either side, spreading me open even further for Azriel. Az leaned forward again, tongue running up the length of Cassian’s cock and then swirling around my clit. Cassian’s hips bucked, and gods, this was filthy. 

Azriel’s hand wrapped around Cassian, pumping him slowly as his mouth latched onto my clit, sucking with such fervor my legs began to shake. Cassian’s groans in my ears, matched with my own pants and Azriel’s desperate moans had me barrelling towards my climax faster than I ever had. 

“Good girl,” Azriel coaxed, voice vibrating my now too-sensitive core. 

“Gods, Az,” Cass panted, and I was immediately reminded that Azriel currently was fisting his best friend’s cock. Heat flooded my core at the thought. Azriel lowered his mouth to the tip of Cassian’s cock. He swirled his tongue around Cassian’s tip before taking him deep into his throat with a low groan. He sucks Cassian until Cass spills down his throat with a roar, and I am so desperate for one of them I could burst. 

“Wanna taste him, angel?” Azriel grinned up at me, placing a hand on the back of my neck to pull my mouth down to his. His tongue caressed mine and the salty taste of Cassian’s cum was still prominent in his mouth. And, gods, was that hot. 

“I want to feel you fill me, Az,” I whisper against his push lips. He groans in response, hands gripping my hips to lift me off of Cassian’s lap. I wrapped my legs around his torso as he carried us to the center of the room. 

He laid me on my back on the soft carpet and pressed his hips into mine. I moaned at the friction between our hips, and the feeling of his huge cock pressed against my cunt. I would give anything to feel him fill me to the brim. 

He reached down and guided the tip of his cock through my soaking folds and let out an obscene groan. “You’re so fucking wet, pretty girl. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

I groaned at his words, aching for his touch. He slid into me slowly stretching my walls in a way that felt like heaven. He filled me to the filt, pausing to pant into my neck as he allowed me to adjust to the size of him. I clawed at his back, desperate for movement. He obliged, pulling out of me slowly and then slamming back into me. He continued to pump in and out of me at a punishing pace as I came undone beneath him, the sweat on both of us mixing as we continued to fuck each other senseless. 

Two hands lifted my head as I looked up to see Cassian. He sat my head on his thigh as he pushed my hair out of my face. His hand wandered down to palm my breast, squeezing and kneading them as Azriel continued to fuck me. My body tensed, pleasure coursing through my core as I throbbed around Azriel’s cock. His moans grew more illicit, his pace sloppy. He spilled into me, his body tensing above me and arms catching him from collapsing on top of me. Cassian rolled my nipple between his fingers and I leaned back into his touch. 

I sat up, twisting myself to straddle Cassian’s thighs. He gripped my hips, grinning up at me. I thread my hands into his hair and pushed my lips against his, rolling my hips against the hardness of him. He growled, pushing me down onto him harder. I rubbed my clit against his cock a few more times before he lifted me, sliding me down onto him. I gasped at the girth of him and he began to suck on my neck and he fucked up into me. I groaned, rolling my hips and arching when he continually hit that perfect spot inside of me that had me purring like a cat and grinding into him harder. 

Azriels hand pet the back of my head, standing up to walk beside where I writhed in Cassian’s massive arms. He grabs under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His raven hair hung in his eyes as he looked down his unbelievably lean and muscled torso at me. He was so hot it was insane. He gently placed his thumb on my bottom lip, nonverbally asking me to open my mouth for him. I did so, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes I could muster. 

His breath hitched as he placed the tip of his cock at my lips. I groaned, sliding his cock into my mouth and licking him sensually. He groaned, hand still on the back of my head. I turned my head so his cock was in between Cassian and I’s faces. Cassian locked eyes with me, parting his lips to kiss the side of Azriel’s cock. Az let out an earth shattering moan as Cassian and I kissed and suckled at him while still fucking each other.

Az’s other hand was on the back of Cassian’s head, holding the two of us to him as if we’d ever let go. Cassian kept hitting that perfect spot inside me, coaxing me into another orgasm as he throbbed and released his seed inside me. He continued to fuck me as his cum poured out of me around his cock. My moans sent vibrations through Azriel’s cock and he began to twitch, coming as he gripped the back of my head, the sounds of his moan’s so delicious it almost had me coming around Cassian again. 

We untangled from one another, sighing and letting out small chuckles. “Well that was unexpected,” I laughed. 

“Nah, we knew it would happen eventually,” Cassian winked and I rolled my eyes at him. He laughed again, climbing to his feet and offering a hand to both Azriel and I. We both took his hands and he led us into his room, which just so happened to be the main bedroom at the House of Wind. The shower was huge. Cassian reached in and turned the water on and Azriel grabbed three huge and fluffy towels from the linen closet. 

Cassian stepped into the shower, sighing at the warmth of the water. Azriel came up behind me, scooping underneath my knees and behind my back, lifting me into his warm chest. I sighed into him, burrowing my face in the nape of his neck. He nuzzled his head against me, walking us into the shower and into the stream of the warm water. Azriel faced Cassian with me in between them. Cassian brushed my hair back, pressing a kiss to my temple. Azriel set me down gently as the two of them doted over me. 

Azriel dumped shampoo into his hand and then gently rubbed it into my hair, working up a lather and scrubbing my scalp. I relaxed into his hands, allowing him to massage my head. My eyes drifted closed as Cassian scrubbed my body softly with a loofah. Their touch was wholesome and entirely non-sexual. Azriel conditioned my hair and allowed me to stand to the side as the two of them quickly showered themselves. We all rinsed off and Azriel stepped out first, grabbing the towels he had fetched for us all. 

He dried himself quickly, briefly scrubbing his hair with the towel and then slinging it low on his hips. I bit my lip at the sight. He walked over to me then, wrapping the towel around my shoulders and then doing the same for Cassian. 

We dry ourselves and walk back into Cassian’s room. I sit on the bed, my eyes drifting closed. I was so tired and so happy. I felt so cared for. Dragging over a small stool, Azriel sat at my feet. He pulled out a small jar of moisturizer that smelled like vanilla and something musky. So deliciously Azriel. He began to massage the lotion into my calves. Cassian sat down behind me, allowing me to lean back into him. He scooped some of the cream as well and began to rub it into my arms. The two of them kept working, moisturizing my body as I drifted slightly. This was the most loved I’d ever felt. I didn’t know how to process it. 

Cassian slowly and gently brushed my wet hair. And it suddenly made perfect sense to me that Cassian’s hair always looked so nice. He started at the bottom, working his way up with a wet brush much gentler than I’d ever been with my own hair. Azriel pulled the blankets of Cassian’s gigantic bed back, beckoning me to climb in. I obliged, my towel dropping to the floor as I did. 

Cassian and Azriel did the same, climbing into the bed on either side of me and both finding a way to comfortably hold me without suffocating me. 

We all murmured our goodnights and wishes of sweet dreams and I drifted off to the loving and gentle touches of two hulking Illyrians. 

Head to my page for part 2!!

[ladylooch]

a smut request with Nico where you’re needy while you’re pregnant and he helps you out?

A/N: YES! I am so excited about what is coming with these requests! So, we got three great requests that basically follow pregnancy to some sweet baby content. This is part of What My World Spins Around. I know this is technically a you POV request, but I wanted your awesome request in this AU because it's so fitting. Hope you enjoy!

A couple things that came to mind when thinking about dad Nico:

that man is going to be OBSESSED with whoever carries his baby. Like so touchy. So hot for it. So… desperate to be a dad and hold his baby. All the sweetness in the world.

He's a girl dad. 10000000% that is all I can picture him as. He would be so gentle and loving and safe for his daughter. So dependable and wanting to be invested in every single moment- big and small. 

You and Your Baby with Nico Hischier

Warning: SMUT (18+ Content), Pregnancy, swearing.

Word Count: 1.6k

I squint in annoyance at the whipping sound of the ceiling fan above me. I am trying to take a much needed rest and the uneven oscillation has me wide awake, contemplating if I can get my 7 month pregnant body up to disassemble it.

I decide probably not. So, instead, I roll myself from side to side to gain momentum to stand up and walk to the light switch. I reach to flip it off, just as my husband comes into the hallway that leads to our room. My squinting turns on him and he cautiously slows his approach.

“What’s wrong? What can I fix?”

“This stupid fan.” I point to the ceiling. He comes to stand next to me, reaching for the baby bump he is absolutely obsessed with touching. He rubs his fingers into my swollen skin, encouraging me to lean against his shoulder while we watch it together.

“Sweets, it’s fine.” This is not the first time I have complained about this fan to him. 

“It’s not in my head, Nico. It’s broken.” He bites his lip, watching as it osculates in perfect synchronization.

Brrrrrr. It suddenly vibrates, making my ears perk.

“That!” I shout, pointing at it.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Ohmygod. You’re useless.” I huff, stepping away from him. He follows after me, pawing at my belly. His hips bump into mine, pressing his front into my butt cheeks. 

“I’m gonna let that go because I know you’re uncomfortable from the hot weather. I did turn the air conditioning down before I came up.” His nose trails along my collarbone as I stand next to our bed, huffing in frustration.

“It’s more than just the weather. Your baby is huge.” I insist, crossing my arms over my enormous breasts. They barely fit into my maternity bra anymore. Everything is expanding and swelling and Nico still looks at me like I’m a goddess. I don’t know how. I’ve caught glimpses of myself in the mirror this week and have practically fainted from disgust. Growing a human is cool; my body going to shit is not.

“She’s measuring very normal.” He reminds me of what they told us at our ultrasound earlier this week.

“Whatever. Swiss babies must be massive or something. Doesn’t feel normal when she bounces on my bladder.” I move back to my side of the bed, adjusting the straps of my bra digging into my shoulders as I go. I can’t stand the discomfort of it holding my breasts to my chest. So I aggressively shimmy it off, tossing it onto the chair by the window. My perked nipples pierce my t-shirt, drawing Nico’s undivided attention. He tries to subtly adjust himself in his shorts as he moves to pacify me again.

“What do you need?” He asks, large hands cupping my hips as he pulls us close. Our baby wedged between us makes it difficult to come together completely.

“I don’t know.” I snap, shoving my hands through my hair and whipping my pony tail in irritation. Nico tilts his head to the side, weaving his gaze down every angry line on my face.

“Maybe you just need a… release.” He questions.

His fingers glide along my shirt, weaving over my bump to come to my heavy breasts. The tips of his fingers tease the peaks until they’re tightened into desperate buds. I sigh, not able to stop the needy moan. I’m so horny all the time still, even in the third trimester. I can barely let him leave the house for summer training. Seeing my pleasure, he reaches down for the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head. My nipples have changed with pregnancy, distinct points with deeper color to them. Nico admires the view, then slowly leans forward to suck the right one into his mouth. I watch his cheeks sink in, tongue stroking every little bit to tease. My fingers rake into his hair, holding him to my chest as his other hand comes to tweak my other nipple.

“Please.” I whisper.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

“I want you to fuck me.” He responds, walking himself backwards to sit on the edge of the bed. “I want to see every perfect part of you as you ride me.” I look away, a little hesitant with how pregnant I am. Our position options are limited right now, but we’ve had the best success with me on top. “I’ll help, baby.” He assures me, encouraging me forward with outstretched arms. My inner core pulses with need, wetness slicking my folds in my panties.

I step forward, placing my hands on his shoulders, watching his dewey brown eyes as he strokes my belly, then grips my hips to encourage me further forward. He grips the waistband of my maternity leggings, shoving them further down my legs. After pulling his shorts off, I straddle him, watching as my belly bumps into his chest. He smiles, leaning down to kiss it. 

Nico lays down on his back, watching me lean over him to feather kisses along his jaw. His stubble is delightfully abrasive against my smooth lips. I slide my mouth open, sucking the sensitive skin of his throat. My tongue runs over the red mark, devouring the taste of him.

“Mmm, that feels good.” His hands slide down my back to grip my ass tightly. I reach for his shaft, feeling along the hard, velvet skin. He pulses in my hand. I stroke up, smearing the trail of pre-cum over his hot head. He moans as I begin to jerk him faster with the help of the milky liquid.

His eyes watch hungrily as I move back over his hips. I grip his cock in my hand, working it through my folds, playing with myself while he watches. I savor the feeling of him against my clit. I toss my head back letting out a loud moan that has Nico gripping my hips earnestly. 

“Put me inside you, babe.” His words are a desperate hiss. More pre-cum dribbles out onto my folds.

I tilt my head forward again, chest heaving with pleasure as I move him through my slickness one more time, rubbing a hard circle against my clit. I whimper to him, then do as he requested. Once I’m seated completely on him, I relish in the feeling of how full I am with him inside of me. The increased blood flow during pregnancy has been good to me. I flutter my walls around his shaft and Nico groans, fingernails digging into my skin. He’s tired of waiting and lifts me to begin his thrusts. 

“Do I look good up here?” I ask him, watching as his eyes drift between my large, jiggling breasts and where we are wetly connecting. The sounds of our thrusts echo through our room. I press my hands on his abdomen for leverage as I move faster. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He moans. “Keep going, baby.” He encourages, mouth opening wider to suck in breaths as his thick eyebrows tug together in pleasure. “You feel.. soo.. damn.” He snaps his head back into the pillow. His eyes close as a heavy exhale falls from his mouth. I can tell he’s holding back for me. 

I continue to bounce and roll my hips, tilting my head and arching my back, as much as I can this pregnant, to hit a different angle. He’s rigid and his balls have tightened, pushing insistently between my legs as I move. I sigh in pleasure, feeling a similar tightness coil in my core as he presses deeper into me. His thumb comes to my clit as he pants excitedly beneath me. He gently rolls against the bud while raising his thighs behind me so he can help with each pump. He matches me thrust for thrust. I begin to quiver on him, unable to keep the tempo. He takes over completely, fucking me faster and deeper still as I cry out in what seems like pain but is the complete opposite. The orgasm rocks through me as I shudder, belly rigid and round while the last moan gets trapped in my throat.

“Ach du lieber Gott.” Nico sputters as my orgasm squeezes him. He explodes deep into me shoving and rolling my hips with his strong hands as I go limp. I stay like that, him buried in deep, my head tilted back towards the broken ceiling fan, mouth agape, as his hands steady me. I can feel his dick continue to pulse within me, spilling more into me with each spasm.

“I think my soul just left my body.” I tell him when I can finally speak. His hands move from my hips to my belly, then up to my nipples to give them a final stroke. My inner muscles quench around him causing a guttural groan from my husband. “It’s been a long time since you came that fast.” I tease, tilting my head forward. I smooth my hand up his chest as I sit back on his hips with him still buried inside of me.

“I had no chance with how hard you came. Plus, I’m obsessed with you this way… pregnant with our baby.” His hands press deeper and lower on my belly “I want to meet her, but I’m going to miss having you like this. This won’t be our last one, no?”

“We’ll see.” I say, itching at a red, stretch mark close to his right hand. “She might be so perfect that it’s one and done.” I toss him a wink. He knows I want multiple babies.

“Just like her mama.”

Lazily, we pull clothes back on and settle into bed for the nap I was trying to take earlier. Nico wiggles down next to my belly, lips attaching to my bare skin, nose mashing in as deep as he can get it. My eyes drift closed, finally content in my body today. I weave my fingers through Nico’s hair and grip his scalp as I surrender to my exhaustion. 

The last thing I remember is Nico telling our daughter how much he loves her.

[amhrosina]

Have You Ever Seen the Rain (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: This lovely request was made by @mymamalife and I loved writing it. Y'all know I love me some soft!Frank. Thank you for requesting!

My requests are open!

Request: Hi! I have a Frank x f!reader request if that's okay. Reader is afraid of storms and a big one rolls in over Hell's Kitchen and Frank finds a way of helping her through it.

Summary: A storm hits Hell's Kitchen, and Frank races home to help reader through her anxieties.

(Warnings: super soft!Frank, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, cursing, Frank is shirtless at the end but there's no smut, let me know if i missed any!)

You eyed the storm clouds rolling over Manhattan, internally groaning and heading into the subway terminal. The weatherman had mentioned a chance of thunderstorms and you had spent the day praying to the universe that it would alter its path. Unfortunately, it seemed like the universe wasn’t on your side today.  

For the last two hours you had watched the sky grow darker from your high-rise office window, finally deciding to head home early to beat the storm. This plan wouldn’t change anything, you knew that, but the idea of having a panic attack surrounded by nosy coworkers was the less appealing option of the two.  

You could always call your husband, Frank, but you didn’t want to worry him. He was a busy man, and you were a big girl. You could handle a silly little storm until he got home.  

You made your way out of the subway terminal closest to your apartment and tried not to look like you were sprinting towards your building. It was one of the nicer apartment buildings in Hell’s Kitchen and even came with a doorman, who you promptly interrupted as you rushed through the front doors.  

“Good evening, Mrs. C-” 

“Hi! Hello, Reginald! So sorry, can’t talk. Have a great evening. Bye!”  

You had exhausted your air supply trying to speak as fast as possible, which left you gulping for oxygen as you made your way towards the elevator. A loud clap of thunder echoed around the lobby, rattling the pictures hung on the wall. You let out a stunned yelp and changed directions, heading towards the stairs instead. You would not get stuck inside of a tiny elevator during this storm.  

By the time you made it to the sixth floor, you were a panting, sweaty mess. Another clap of thunder had you shakily trying to unlock your door, dropping the keys on the doormat before finally getting through the door and slamming it behind you.  

You clicked the living room lamps on and breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. Rain began pelting the windows like pellets from a BB Gun and thunder shook the building. You clapped your hands over your ears and watched as your apartment went dark, power blinking on and off for a few moments before completely failing.  

“Oh god.” You mumbled, falling to your knees. You crawled towards the couch, crying out when lightning lit up the apartment for a split second. Your breath had become uneven, a trembling gasp leaving your mouth every 10 seconds. You felt around your pockets, fingers shaking as you tried to grasp your phone.  

You dialed the number without looking. You’d memorized his phone number years ago and knowing it by heart had come in handy too many times to count.  

“What’s wrong?” Frank’s voice was gruff, but not annoyed – never annoyed with you. He wasn’t expecting you to be home for another few hours, so your phone call probably set off alarm bells in his head. 

You tried to speak, tried to figure out how to tell him that you felt like you might be dying, and you needed him here, helping you get through this, but your voice had long since left you.  

“Sweetheart,” his voice was more alarmed now, “What’s wrong?”  

“I-” You started, gulping, “Frank, I-” 

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You hoped he could hear your desperation because you couldn’t get your mouth to work. 

“Are you at home, sweetheart?” 

Thunder clapped and you shrieked into the phone. 

“Ah, shit,” Frank murmured, “I’m on my way, okay? Don’t go anywhere. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”  

You could hear him gathering his things and shoving them into his bag. You had no idea who he was staking out, but from the rustling of Frank’s bag, it seemed like he had been sitting there for hours. 

“No, it’s fine.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes tight as another bolt of lightning lit up the room around you. 

“I think I’ll stay on the line anyways,” he responded.  

Your heart sang with relief. Frank had gotten so good at reading your emotions since you’d met him that he could now do it over the phone.  

“I ran into Red last night over on 42nd. He told me to send his regards.”  

“Oh yeah?” You mumbled, trying to focus on the sound of his voice. 

“I told him to go to hell.” You could hear his grin through the phone. “I know your company recruits lawyers for your clients, but do you have to use Nelson & Murdock so often? He thinks we’re friends now.”  

“He’s my friend, and he’s nice. And he’s a good lawyer.” You retort, smiling slightly. A thunderous boom rattles the walls, and you flinch, nearly dropping the phone. 

“I’m almost home, sweet girl,” Frank coos into the phone, “Just hang on. Two more minutes.” 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. You rest your head on the floor, legs curled up under you. If someone didn’t know any better, they’d probably say you looked like you were doing yoga. 

You count to sixty twice, listening as Frank greets Reginald at the front door and heads up the stairs. When you reach fifty-five the second time around, the front door swings open. Frank rushes through the door, pushing it closed behind him with his foot. 

When he sees you lying on the floor, he hangs up the phone and tosses it on the couch behind you. He’s soaking wet and breathing heavier than normal. He strips out of his clothes, running quickly into the bedroom to put on dry clothes.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” He lets out a sympathetic sigh and sits next to you on the floor, pulling you into his lap. 

The living room lights up, followed quickly by a loud clap of thunder. You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in Frank’s chest. Tears roll down your cheeks, soaking into Frank’s sweatshirt.  

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I got you.” He whispers into your hair, running his hand up and down your back. His other hand reaches up to cradle your head, softly petting your hair. 

You focus on the pattern of Frank’s hand on your back, up and down, up and down, up and down. The tears eventually stop, but you don’t lift your head from his chest. Once your heart rate lowers, Frank swiftly stands up, carrying you into your shared bedroom.  

He sits you down on the bed and helps you remove your work clothes, swapping them out for one of his soft t-shirts and a pair of shorts. You drag his sweatshirt up and he quickly pulls it over his head, crawling into bed next to you. 

“I think the worst of it has passed, baby.” He mumbles, pulling you into his chest. You nuzzle against him, eager to sink into his warmth. You could still hear the rain pounding against the windows, but Frank was right, as usual, the storm had moved past Hell’s Kitchen. 

You let out a sigh of relief, relaxing into Frank’s hold.  

“Are you okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss into your forehead. 

“I am now.” You leave a light kiss on his chest. “You sounded busy when I called. Did I interrupt something important?”  

“’m never too busy for you, sweetheart.” He brought his lips to yours, softly kissing you until you pulled away in a dreamy haze.  

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, listening to Frank’s strong heartbeat. He swears it beats for you and you alone, that nothing in this world could ever mean as much as you do to him. On nights like these, you were never more sure of anything. 

End Note: Thank you for reading! Y'all know I'm a hoe for soft!Frank, but I feel like I need to write some hardcore SMUT after this. Lemme know if that's something y'all would be interested in!

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