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fixated-cookies · 1 month ago

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Ngl I saw the aphrodisiac and I can't help but brainstorm a whole thing:

Imagine a reader who is the poison tester because they are resistant to poisons...affogato slips em the aphrodisiac and reader is able to hold themselves, kinda...and at first affogato is surprised it had so little effect...until the night where reader goes to their room and starts trying to satisfy themselves but affogato just 'happens' to walk in...reader, ofcourse, acts embarrassed and apologies for such an awkward situation....until affogato offers his 'services' *cough cough* his face *cough cough* to help them satisfy themselves....and that's when reader learns how much affogato likes em inadvertently...how? Simple, he makes sure every orgasm is satisfying...not too fast, not to slow, just orgasm sent from heaven to orgasm sent from heaven...

Basically, the hc here is if he loves someone, and he does this to em...he would treat em like royalty during the eat-out...possibly as a way to...show his feelings. Not too fast, not to slow, and he would just KNOW how to please you exactly because he did his...research. Fan of normal eating out? Ofcourse, he can pull so many moves he already knows you'll love! Secretly fantasize about being edged like crazy while being eaten out? Let him show you he is the perfect lover to do that to you and keep you on the edge for as long as it is pleasurable and comfortable for you and what you wanted...this man knows EXACTLY went to finally give you that orgasm and stop. Fan of overstimulation? Oh he's more than happy to give you orgasm sent straight from your fantasies after orgasm sent from your fantasies...and again, master at knowing limits. He'd still make you have a safe word juuuuust incase there are factors he doesn't know about that could influence how much you want.

Happy bonus hc for ya, because I like your stuff so much: he is the king-no-god of aftercare! Even if it's your first time and don't know what would be good after care or what you want as aftercare, affogato got ya! Nervous because you don't know how to deal with post-sex numb legs? Let him gladly help you with that, dear. Feeling thirsty? Already has your favorite drink on standby. Hungry? Favorite food, standby. Feel extremely drained? Oh he already has a bath waiting for you to both help you feel relaxed and clean....and when you get out of the bath, he is ready to give you a massage. The type to fall asleep right after sex? That's OK, he will hold you while you sleep and you'll wake up to the aftercare being prepared in the morning.

Sorry if I went a little too crazy.

oooh gossip! Affogato would absolutely revel in the irony of it all. The way he thought his little concoction had barely worked, only to find out later that it had been simmering under the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to bloom. I assume he would be disappointed at first, awww. And, of course, he "just so happens" to be there, watching the reader struggle in vain. That feigned surprise, the sly amusement dancing in his cream eyes—he’d offer his assistance so sweetly, so gently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

MDNI

Perhaps you can feel the heat crawling underneath your skin, your fingers covered in your own fluid and juices but you're still so insatiable. The door creaks open, and there stands Affogato, his expression unreadable at first—until his lips curl into that all-too-familiar smirk.

"My, my… what do we have here?"

The reader jolts upright, scrambling to cover themselves, their breath hitching in sheer panic. "A-Affogato?! I—I wasn’t—this isn’t—!"

The air is thick with something electric, something inevitable.

And when he kneels before them, his hands resting on their trembling thighs, his voice dips into something softer, sweeter.

"No need to be shy now… let me help you."

And that’s when the reader realizes—this isn't just about repayment or amusement. No, no… Affogato enjoys this far too much. The way he takes his time, never rushing, never overwhelming, drawing it out so that each wave of pleasure leaves you craving more from his tongue. He'd probably end up becoming addicted in his own way. drawing out precious moans and whines while his hands hold you onto the mattress. He just can't get enough.

He drags it out, savoring their reactions, never rushing—because this isn’t just about pleasure. No, this is his way of showing them just how much they mean to him. If you want he'll suck your clit gently, or if you'd prefer he can devour you like a ravenous creature instead. I think he'd be so mouthy like this, constantly teasing you with his touches and lips. Do you think he'll make you sit on his face? hooking his hands onto your thighs so you can't do anything but take it?

I totally agree with your after care headcanons as well.

Now he gets to spoil you.

The moment it's over, he's already moving, ensuring you're not left wanting for anything. A chilled glass of your favorite drink is placed in your hands before you can even ask. If you’re feeling too weak to sit up, he’ll simply guide it to your lips himself, murmuring praises all the while. And oh, the bath. Steaming, infused with the perfect blend of soothing herbs and oils—because of course, he anticipated this. If you hesitate, too shy or embarrassed to let him see you so vulnerable, he simply smiles, tilting his head. "Now, now… There's no need to be modest. I’ve already seen everything, haven’t I?"

alalalala just thinking about beautiful man lalala...

#affogato cookie smut #affogato cookie x reader #crk smut #cookie run kingdom #affogato x reader #affogato smut

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 6 months ago

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Between the Pews

lorraine day x female reader

summary: You recently move to a conservative Texas town, and find yourself drawn to the town’s resident good girl, Lorraine. A struggle between duty and desire, as a forbidden attraction ignites during Sunday church services.

word count: 1.2k

————

The church was bathed in soft, golden light as the afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass windows. It cast colourful patterns across the worn pews and the bowed heads of the congregation. You fought to stifle your laughter as you noticed the rainbow pattern projected by the sunlight, dancing across the back of the town mayor.

Your mother gave you a subtle nudge, her way of telling you to keep quiet. Moving from Silicon Valley to a small conservative town in Texas was the very definition of a downgrade. Your father's work had forced the relocation, and at first you didn't mind it. But blending in with the locals and adopting their ways was definitely not part of the deal. Then again, when your dad's job— your family's livelihood, depends on pleasing the townsfolk, that's what you have to expect.

Churches weren't all so bad. You remember some in the Valley that were all inclusive and didn't care that you were gay, but something about the parking lot full of Fords and the old to young attendee ratio told you that this church was not one of them. You wondered why your parents would subject you to the torture of a homophobic church, but that was until you saw her.

And torture has never looked so good.

You sat in the back, as you always did, you weren't entirely sure if it was a choice on your end or if it was the church goers not approving your family yet. Either way you didn't mind.

Your arms casually draped over the wooden bench. Lorraine was in her usual spot near the front, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. She wore a modest white blouse and a pale blue skirt that ended just below her knees. Around her neck, a delicate silver cross hung, resting just above the modest neckline of her blouse.

Your eyes were drawn to her, as they had been every Sunday since you first walked into this church almost a month ago. She was the picture of piety, the good Christian girl everyone wanted her to be. Yet there was something in the way her gaze would flicker back to you, brief and hesitant, like she was afraid of being caught, that told you that she wasn't what this town wanted her to be.

You wondered how important it was to her that she sat in the pews at the front.

The preacher went on and on, his words never reaching you as your focus remained on Lorraine. Her eyes met yours again, and this time, she held it. There was a moment of something—a connection, an understanding that passed between you, electric and undeniable. She looked away as quickly as it happened, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

You leaned back, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. She was trying so hard to maintain her composure, to be the perfect daughter of the church. But you knew better. You knew there was more to her than the prim and proper exterior she showed the world.

The service ended, and the congregation slowly rose to their feet. Your family remained seated as your father gave smiles to onlookers who wouldn't even spare him a glance.

Lorraine stood up, straightening her skirt with a her careful hands. You watched her, noting the slight shake in her fingers as she gathered her things and made her way towards the door. There was a tension in the air between you two, something unsaid, something waiting to be acknowledged. But you let it go, for now.

————

Two Weeks Later

The days had passed slowly, each one blending with the next as you replayed that moment over and over in your mind. You hadn't seen Lorraine since the previous Sunday. You avoided the places you knew she might be, not out of fear, but because you wanted to give her space. Whatever had happened between you two was intense, too intense for someone who lived in this town their entire life to process quickly.

But now, two weeks later, you were back in the same church, sitting in a different pew, few rows ahead. Not sure if it was due to an increase in your family's social acceptance in the town or your fondness towards a certain girl.

Your eyes inevitably are drawn to the front where Lorraine sat few rows back from her usual pew. Her posture perfect as always, but you noticed the slight stiffness in her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the edge of the pew just a little too tightly. The cross necklace on her neck missing, and you could feel the weight of it in your jacket pocket, heavier with each passing second.

It had been an impulsive move, taking it. You hadn't planned on it, but when she had stood so close to you, her breath warm against your cheek, her voice trembling as she whispered words she wasn't supposed to feel, you couldn't resist. You'd lifted it from her neck as you kissed her, like all the religious guilt she'd feel for what she's doing with you will vanish with the lack of necklace on her. A kiss that was meant to be quick but had turned into something more—a tangle of lips and emotions that neither of you fully understood.

The memory burned in your mind as you sat there, the necklace hidden away in your pocket, a secret you held close. You could still feel the softness of her lips, the way she had hesitated, then surrendered to you completely. It had been a moment of weakness, or perhaps a moment of truth. You weren't sure which.

You stood up slowly, the church now nearly empty, and made your way towards the door. Lorraine was still there, her body present by her mind far. When she noticed you, her breath caught, and she quickly looked away, her hand subconsciously moving to the spot where the necklace used to rest.

Or so you assumed it was subconscious. You considered approaching her, returning the necklace, maybe she wanted it back.

But then you thought better of it. Some things were better left unsaid. As you walked past her, you allowed your fingers to brush lightly against hers, a brief deliberate touch that made her stiffen.

You kept walking, out into the cool afternoon air, the necklace still in your pocket. You didn't look back, but you could feel her eyes on you, watching, wondering. Maybe she would ask for it back. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, the connection between you, created in that brief moment of stolen intimacy, was something neither of you could deny.

Your parents were talking to you, but you weren't paying attention. Your thoughts were consumed by that necklace, by what it represented, by what it meant that she hadn't asked for it back. Was she waiting for you to make the first move? Or was she hoping to forget that moment altogether?

But maybe, just maybe, some questions didn't need answers. Maybe some moments were meant to linger, unresolved, leaving a mark that neither time nor distance could erase.

Some things were better left unsaid, but that didn't make them any less real. And as you walked away, the cool metal of the cross pressing against your palm, you couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine was thinking about that night too—if she was missing her necklace, or if she was missing something more.

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opencommunion · 1 year ago

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please read & share on all platforms. Palestinian resistance groups have asked us to pay close attention to the plight of imprisoned Palestinians, as the occupation believes that since all eyes are on Gaza they can abuse and assassinate prisoners out of sight

Statement issued by the Office of Martyrs, Prisoners, and the Wounded of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, via RNN Prisoners:

“Horrific testimonies about the crimes committed by the occupation and prison administration against prisoners and detainees in its jails.

The information and data we receive from inside zionist prisons about the systematic crimes committed by the occupation's prison administration against prisoners, since October 7th, are terrifying. There is a systematic decision to assassinate the prisoners through punitive measures carried out by the prison service, and evidence of this is the martyrdom of several prisoners.

The magnitude of crimes, both collective and individual assaults on prisoners—which occur during the raids on sections and cells and which are continuously escalating—is alarming, in addition to the adoption of a starvation policy against them, as the prisoners only have tuna, corn, and sometimes inedible eggs as food.

The aggression against the prisoners began on October 7th. The prisoners face ongoing aggression, with continuous punitive operations and retaliatory measures affecting them and their families.

The Office of Martyrs, Prisoners, and the Wounded for the PFLP is closely following the issues of prisoners and detainees, which is challenging. We consider the silence of human rights, humanitarian, and international institutions unjustifiable. They must fulfill their humanitarian duty and what their conscience dictates, obliging the occupation to respect international laws and conventions established for this purpose. We hold them fully responsible for their lives.

The Office highlights the measures that the prison administration continues to impose on prisoners. The prison administration cuts off electricity to the prisoners' cells and rooms, deliberately cuts off their water supply, enforces a starvation policy, has withdrawn food supplies from prisoner sections, reduced meals to two times a day, closed the canteen, and deprived prisoners of other basic necessities.

Furthermore, heavily armed suppression forces raid all prisoners' sections and rooms, maltreat them, physically assault them, and use police dogs. They have escalated policies of depriving prisoners of medical treatment, forbidding visits from families and lawyers, and denying them treatment in hospitals, especially for sick prisoners. The prison administration also reduced the space available to a prisoner inside a cell, where the number of prisoners in one cell reached more than ten, and many prisoners were transferred to solitary cells. Solitary confinement was imposed on prisoners and some sections were isolated from others.

We note that the prison administration has removed available television sets and electrical appliances, destroyed all of the prisoners' belongings, confiscated their clothes, leaving only one change of clothing for each prisoner. They have also confiscated radios, blankets, and shoes from them, prevented them from bathing and going to the courtyard, closed the sinks used for washing, and carried out collective transfer operations, including moving prisoners from one section to another and from one prison to another.

We, in the Office of Martyrs, Prisoners, and the Wounded of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, want to reassure our people that the General Secretary of the Popular Front, the comrade, leader, and prisoner Ahmed Saadat, and his comrades are well. They are at the heart of the battle with the prison administration, and they will achieve a great victory over the jailer and will soon gain their freedom. We are closely following all the developments inside the prisons, as well as the ongoing communications and negotiations for a prisoner exchange process being carried out by the Palestinian resistance to empty the prisons and release all the prisoners.

Freedom to our heroic prisoners.

Glory and eternity to the martyrs.

Speedy recovery to the wounded.

Victory is the ally of our people, and the occupation will inevitably come to an end.”

#palestine #I’m so worried about the prisoners and my posts about what they’re facing consistently get a fraction of the notes on anything else I post #probably because white westerners are conditioned to view incarcerated people as disposable 🫥

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snowfieldstories · 3 months ago

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His scent & love language headcanons 18+ [gender neutral]

Spoilers for Dokja’s backstory and novel stuff

His scent --

Kim Dokja: lightning strikes and an unnamed freshness

This man is hopped up on probability aftermaths and the [‘Electrification’] skill; he smells of an electric current with a hint of char. As a constellation, there is an otherworldly-sense about him. One way this manifests is his scent. No one remains fresh in an apocalypse, but somehow Kim Dokja emits a scent of brightness and clean. He definitely takes pride in smelling nice to impress other constellations and his companions.

Yoo Joonghyuk: manly sweat/musk and exotic spices

HA, you thought this would be good because of his pretty face? Oh please, this man hardly takes a shower. Who has time to bathe when you're constantly fighting to end all the scenarios? His natural scent swings wildly between an unpleasant, stale odor and an intoxicating musk. On the days that smell leans unfavorably, it is his ['Cooking Lv. 10'] skill that tries to save him. He can pull fragrant spices out of thin air to supplement his dishes; the mouthwatering aroma of his cooking clings to his clothes long after the food has been devoured. Uh...best hope for some rain tomorrow. And every day after that.

His love language --

Kim Dokja

He loves to receive physical touch and words of affirmation from his partner. Dokja has a complicated relationship with the meaning of a loving touch; he's only known of its harshness or its absence. When he trusts his partner, he craves little intimacies—a supporting hand on his arm, soft kisses along his jawline, or falling asleep nestled firmly at his side. No touch is too much for Kim Dokja, and if he's not receiving enough from his partner then he has no problem going to seek it out from them himself.

As a child, there was no one who lifted him up in affirmation so he is especially susceptible to praise. A few words of encouragement or a compliment on his looks will send a flush of pink across his cheeks. His partner should take caution, however, because sometimes this desire for praise can turn needy when accompanied by more...carnal activities. This man is not above begging for it.

Dokja relishes in giving gifts and physical intimacies. Some may know him as Mr. Moneybags. Richie Rich. A third-generation chaebol. Sugar daddy…with and without the "sugar." [Uh, wait, who said that last one? *coughs*] Whatever his partner wants, it was packaged and delivered yesterday morning. Seeing his partner light up at receiving something they’d only had a mere, passing thought of makes Dokja giddy. It is truly a testament of “to be loved is to be known.”

The more Dokja knows his partner, the more comfortable he becomes with physical touch, too. He begins small with light bumps against the shoulder or sweeping back the hair from his partner’s eyes as they focus. As trust builds, he grows more bold in public—a kiss on the inside of their wrist and touches that border on possessive. In private, he is just as greedy to get his hands on his partner because he wants to make them feel good. Sure, he likes to receive, but this man is first and foremost a giver.

Yoo Joonghyuk

In the dictionary, right next to "service" is a photo of Yoo Joonghyuk. This should come as no surprise. He is devoted to giving acts of service and quality time to his partner. This man is pleased to help with tasks as simple as opening a tough plastic bottle cap, to cooking their favorite foods. But he will also spend 100 years ascending levels of transcendence in order to protect them better. He will dive into the depths of hell, travel the far reaches of the universe, for the chance to give them a happy life. And he will shove their hands away and spread their legs apart to give, because even in bed he wants to service his partner's needs before his own...

Ahem, going back to more serious things. Joonghyuk takes his quality time very seriously. Sure, one might say he has time to spare from a never-ending series of regressions, but he still doesn't want to waste a second when it matters to him. And his partner is someone who matters. Expect many companionable silences where he can derive the greatest joy from the comfort of his partner's presence. Being able to coexist in the same space is a luxury he covets.

As he loves to give, so does he love to receive quality time with his beloved, especially when they initiate it. His time with his partner is limited. No, more than that—it's doomed to end and repeat from ground zero. Every so often, he grows depressed from having to constantly build up the relationship from introductions. But by the next regression, he's more determined than ever to reclaim his partner in his life. Each moment spent, no matter how trivial or domestic, is stored as a precious jewel in his mind. Joonghyuk never wants to forget.

Honestly, there are more ways to give love to Yoo Joonghyuk. But it is up to his partner to figure that out. Joonghyuk has the mysteriousness and volatility of a black cat—luckily, his partner forever remains a fierce cat-lover, despite any other changes that befall each regression round.

____

A/N; This was inspired by my characterization of Dokja in my fic, In Life and Death.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #orv x reader #headcanon #omniscient reader webtoon #omniscient reader novel #orv fanfic #who said that not me #orv spoilers #orv kdj #thanks for reading #snowfieldstories #yoo joonghyuk x reader #yoo joonghyuk #orv yjh

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nakahras · 1 year ago

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᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd chuuya #᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune #᯽. éli originals

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alottiegoingon · 10 months ago

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HIDDEN

natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

summary: you and nat study together.

warnings: reader and nat have a crush on each other, indirect flirting, nat lives in a trailer, not proofread.

the evening sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small, run-down trailer, casting a warm glow over the cluttered interior. books and notes were scattered across the worn-out coffee table, where natalie sat cross-legged, her fingers idly flipping through the pages of her history textbook.

you sat opposite her, your own textbooks spread out in front of you. the air was thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you two for months. friends, yes, but always teetering on the edge of something more. it was in the way her eyes lingered on you a moment too long, in the playful banter that always seemed to have an underlying meaning.

"you know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you spent half as much time studying as you do with that eyeliner, you'd probably ace this test."

natalie smirked, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have time to show off my impressive ability to make straight a's and perfect wings," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

you laughed, shaking your head. "fair point. but really, nat, you need to focus. mr. benson is gonna grill us on the civil war tomorrow."

she groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. "i know, i know. it's just...so boring. why can't history have more explosions or something?"

"pretty sure there were plenty of explosions during the civil war," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "you just have to know where to look."

natalie rolled her eyes but leaned forward, her elbow resting on the table as she glanced at your notes. "alright, impress me with your historical knowledge then."

you launched into a brief explanation of the major battles, trying to make it as engaging as possible. every so often, you'd catch her eye, and there it was – that spark, that hint of something more. you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your conversation. you teased each other mercilessly, yet there was an underlying tenderness in every jibe. it was in the way she nudged your foot with hers under the table, the way her laughter lit up her face and made your heart skip a beat.

at one point, you leaned over to grab a highlighter, your hand brushing against hers. a jolt of electricity shot through you, and you saw her eyes widen ever so slightly. neither of you moved, the contact lingering just a second too long before you pulled away, your cheeks flushed.

"see," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're actually pretty smart when you try."

natalie snorted, but there was a softness in her gaze. "don't get used to it. i'm only doing this because you begged me."

"begged? i seem to recall you saying you needed help, and i graciously offered my services," you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips.

she chuckled, shaking her head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

the playful banter continued like a dance, the two of you circling around the truth but never quite touching it. you wanted to say something, to break the barrier and let her know how you felt, but the fear of ruining what you had held you back.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, the trailer was bathed in a soft, golden light. you closed your textbook, stretching your arms over your head. "i think that's enough for today. we should probably get some rest if we're gonna survive the class tomorrow."

natalie nodded, closing her own book with a sigh of relief. "yeah, you're right. thanks for... helping me out."

there was a moment of silence. you could see the conflict in her eyes, the same battle you were fighting within yourself. finally, she stood up.

"guess i'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

you nodded, standing up as well. "yeah, see you tomorrow, nat."

as she walked you towards the door, you felt a pang of regret. you didn't want to leave things unsaid, but the words were lodged in your throat. just as she reached for the handle, already opening it for you, you blurted out, "hey, nat?"

she turned around, her eyes searching yours. "yeah?"

you took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "i...i just wanted to say...you're not as useless as you think you are. you're actually pretty amazing."

a flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a soft smile that she quickly hid. "don't get all soft on me," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly was the last thing you saw before leaving the trailer.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio

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god-o-bees · 1 month ago

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Nikto X Dog!Hybrid Reader

Suggestive

It was not love at first sight when Nikto got his hybrid. Sure, you were small and cute, your little puppy ears always pointed in his direction and your soft tail wagging idly everytime you were in his vicinity. But he didn't need "emotional support" or "companionship."

"Why don't you try giving them a belly rub?" Krueger suggested. You ears perked up at the mention of belly rubs. Nikto grunted as you rolled over onto your back, a hopeful look glittering in your eyes.

He rolled his eyes, but got on he knees, figuring there was no harm in just amusing Krueger.

The first touch of your soft fur on his skin sent a shock of electricity through his body. His blunt nails scraped over your delicate belly, pulling a happy sigh from your lips. He became lost in it, not even registering Krueger chuckling a few feet away.

Ok, so he could keep you around. Just for the occasional therapeutic belly rubs, but that was it.

Of course, that wasn't it. He had quickly taken over your bathing routine, insisting that you shouldn't have human responsibilities while a human was in the house. Surprisingly, he never crossed into any sexual territory during it, seemingly just as hypnotized by cleaning you as he was by petting you.

He eventually allowed you to sleep with him, holding you close to his chest as you curled up underneath the sheets. He couldn't help but stare at your peaceful face as he wondered what you were dreaming of. Did you dream about silly things like catching squirrels and earning treats, or did you dream of him?

His gaze began to travel to your chest when he gave you belly rubs. Maybe you wouldn't notice if his hand just lightly brushed over the bump of your nipple from under your shirt... what the hell had gotten into him?

No, he couldn't let this go any further. He was far too broken for an innocent little hybrid like you. Your relationship would have to remain where it was- completely platonic.

"What are those?" He asked when he saw you taking a small pill one morning during breakfast- another responsibility Nikto took over.

"For my cycle. So I don't go into heat." You explained, holding the bottle up to him.

He hadn't considered that you would have heats, although it was a common concern for some hybrid owners. He had assumed you were spayed like other service hybrids, but apparently not. Blood rushed down between his legs when he realized the implications.

He began to buy you things. Chew toys and treats for play time, a nice grooming kit for your silky fur and even little outfits tailored for your small hybrid body. If he saw a store selling hybrid care products, he'd come away with something, even if it was just a gift card.

The baby blue collar he had personally clipped onto your neck was his favorite. His fingers dipped below it to stroke your neck as you slept with him at night, shifting his body so you wouldn't be too bothered by the erection pressing against you.

He was relaxing on the couch one afternoon, stroking your stomach lazily when his eyes traveled up to your lips. He could imagine they were as soft as pillows and as sweet as sugar, and suddenly every nerve in his body was burning to kiss you. His thumb stroked your cheek a little closer to your mouth. He had to bite his tongue to make sure he didn't go any further.

But those soft whimpers and little sneezes of yours would still haunt his dreams, rest assured.

Masterlist

#nikto cod #cod nikto #nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #call of duty

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turbulentscrawl · 1 year ago

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Some Body Type HCs

Hey ho!! I'm back (kinda maybe). Life has been really hectic, and frankly I just haven't had time to write much. BUT some of the friends I've made through IDV got me back to drawing, so now I have some headcanons WITH VISUALS for you. I'm putting this under the cut for partial nudity on the drawings.

(You'll have to forgive me for making it small and watermarking the hell out of it. I'm paranoid.)

Aesop

-Pale, and not a lot of body hair. Unlike some of the others, this is normal for him. He has trouble growing facial hair, which is a blessing for him because he hates having it almost as much as he hates having to shave.

-Aesop is averse to several textures, and this causes some issues for him at mealtimes. He's more of a grazer, as far as his eating habits go. He's underweight and a bit malnourished as a result of these, and so he has a slight hour-glass shape.

-He's very hyenic. He hates the feeling of lotion on his skin, but he uses good-quality soaps when he bathes, so his skin is fairly soft.

Emil

-Very hairy. (Full disclosure-this hc of mine was born partially as a spiteful counter to those in the fandom who tend to infantize him) Ada shaves his face and neck for him about once a week, but they don't bother with the rest of his body hair.

-Has quite a but of scarring under all that hair, too. His back, wrists, and legs have the worst of it, from old dog attacks and pulling against restraints.

-Not overly muscular, but he is a little stronger than average in the arms and core from his parkour-like hook maneuvering.

Luchino

-The growth of scales across his body have made his body hair sparse and inconsistent. He will still grow some on his chest and legs, but he shaves it off because he doesn't like the patchiness.

-He's health-conscious and, despite his busy schedule, still finds time to work out. He's muscular and lean due partially to this fact, as well as his ongoing mutations keeping his body fat percentages really low.

-For the same reason, aside from the areas with scale growth, Luchino's skin is well-kept. He uses many lotions and balms to ease the itching of said scales, so his entire body is well-moisturized and has a golden, dewy glow.

Norton

-The tallest survivor.

-Lean and lankey. He's strong, but still bulking up after years of near-starvation, so his muscle mass and body fat seem low.

-Has an average amount of body hair. His chest, legs, and arms all have a fair amount. (his head hair and pubes are much thicker) The burn scars left from the accident have prevented hair growth in certain areas of his body. He grows facial hair reasonably fast and has to shave at least every other week.

Andrew

-One of the tallest survivors.

-Vaguely dorito-shaped with broad shoulders. He's quite strong in general, as a result of years of hard labor like digging and throwing about coffins (and corpses). He has some body hair--but less than average--but it is thin and fine, so difficult to see without being up-close. The hair on his head is a bit thin too, he doesn't have much volume there.

-Very pale (obviously.) It's painfully obvious when he blushes--it goes all the way from his ears, down to his belly.

-He has some faint, scattered scarring just from accidents over the years. Nicking himself on sharp wooden edges, his own shovel, etc.

Luca

-Very thin. Luca hyperfocuses on work and forgets to eat a lot, and was malnourished during his time in prison. He's very physically weak.

-He grows very little body hair, and the hair on his head tends to be thin. Not many people know this, but he has a small bald patch from where he worries and pulls at his hair during moments of frustration.

-Has faint electrical scarring across his shoulders, chest, and back. Always has circles under his eyes due to his poor sleep schedule.

Naib

-Bulky and column-shaped. He's very lean and muscular from years in his various services. One of the shortest survivors (as well as one of the widest lol.)

-Covered in various scars. Life's been rough for him.

-He grows a fair amount of body hair, but he shaves it all off. This is something he does as a "leave-no-trace" sort of precaution for work, rather than as an actual preference. He's considered shaving his head, too, but he is a bit fond of his hair for personal reasons. The hair on his head is thick, but a bit dry. He doesn't always have the chance to use good products.

Victor

(My love for Victor has grown exponentially since I took my unintentional break. You heard it here, folks, I have new favorites. ask me about it lol)

-Has a fairly average, fit body type. He doesn't work out, specifically, but does a LOT of walking, running, and hiking so he's in good-standing with his cardio. He has a very slight softness around his tummy and arms, since his legs do the most of the work.

-Has a t-shirt tan from all his time outside. He's very rosey, too. Isn't that blush adorable?

-Has a very small amount of chest hair, and some on his legs. Similar to Andrew, his body hair is fine and difficult to see. He has trouble growing a beard--much to his holiday displeasure.

#turbulentscrawl #idv x reader #identity v #norton campbell #andrew kreiss #emil #aesop carl #luchino diruse #luca balsa #naib subedar #victor grantz

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procyonloser · 7 months ago

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(Lilith/Adam/Lucifer)

Sera had come to him with her concerns, which was the first sign that things were very different than the reality Lucifer thought he lived in. Sera had been the one to throw him from Heaven, to send thousands of arrows through his body, the scars he'd never fully recovered from.

"She's in Heaven. I've heard word that she's made a deal with Adam." Sera told him, fingers crossed in front of her. "I do not wish to see her poisoning my people, I don't want to lose anyone else."

Him.

Lucifer took the information and sat on it, debating with himself as to what to do. He loved Lilith, their divorce hadn't changed that. He had no right to interfere in her life anymore, and he knew she could hold her own against Adam. But, why? Why him? She'd never cared for him before, and for her to vanish not long after the exterminations began...

Lucifer feared she was being blackmailed. He was certain Adam would want nothing more than to kill Lucifer and Charlie, yet they were all protected by their agreement presented by Adam. Why would he do something like that, unless he was getting something in return?

Lucifer needed to see for himself, he needed to see if Lilith was alright.

If she hated him for it... at least she'd still be thinking about him.

Sera gave him passage into heaven, secretly. She knew where Lilith was staying, though it sounded as though she had an informant - not that Adam had told her as much. Sera warned him not to speak of this agreement between them, and Lucifer was happy not to. The less time he spent near her, the better.

There were private beaches in Heaven, no tourists as far as the eye could see, stretching even further. Lilith had always liked the sea, the water. They'd met by a little pond in Eden.

Lucifer walked through a heaven made portal, ocean air hitting his nose, and immediately his heart jumped in his chest.

Adam was in front of Lilith, on his knees in the sand with his back turned to Lucifer, his face between her thighs. Lilith was bare as the day she was created with the exception of a pair of sunglasses that kept her unreadable as she looked down upon Adam. Lucifer froze, stomach turning, and pain piercing through him. His love was getting eaten out by another man - her first husband.

Had he failed her that badly? Had he failed as a husband, a father, and an angel?

But, something quickly caught his attention. Adam's hands were bound behind his naked back, and it looked as though he had a blindfold- no, that was the top of Lilith's bathing suit tied around his face, presumably acting as a blindfold. That wasn't what he'd expect if Adam was blackmailing Lilith, though it wasn't impossible... Still, Lucifer would assume if he was forcing Lilith to do this, she'd simply kill him the he got on his knees.

Then Lilith looked up slowly, blond hair falling across her cheek. He couldn't see her eyes, but Lucifer knew she saw him. A smile slowly curled across plump lips as she saw him.

"That's enough, darling. I think you've earned your reward." Lilith said in a melodic tone, calm but sweet.

Adam made a noise, before he pulled back, and Lilith stood up - revealing the wrappings around her hips in a dark purple silk, all coming towards the front where... Oh, Lucifer flushed. An intricately made dildo projected off of her, one that Adam had evidently been sucking on. A string of saliva briefly connected the tip of the dildo to Adam's lips after he pulled back. Lilith hummed softly to him, as she reached down as caressed his face.

"Such a good boy, isn't this much better?" Lilith asked Adam, and Lucifer felt an electric shock of realization run through him.

They'd always had quite a good sex life, and Lucifer was eager to please, but he'd never been exactly overly submissive. He wanted to be of service, he didn't want to be used. Lilith, had a streak of wanting to be in charge, of everything. He loved her for it, but quite frankly, he'd tried bottoming for her a few times, getting pegged, and it did nothing for him. Adam, however...

"Lilith, please..." Adam's voice broke, in need and desperate for attention. "I want to see you, can you-"

"Not yet," Lilith said effortlessly. "Be a good boy and turn around for me, and raise your hips up for me. I want you to focus on the feeling alone. Nothing else."

Lucifer said nothing, he simply watched as Adam turned, and bent down in such a way it almost seemed as though he was bowing to Lucifer. Lilith ran long finger nails down Adam's back, and the first man shivered under her touch.

"I need it, Lily, please." Adam begged, looking entirely different than the boisterous man Lucifer remembered.

With little warning, Lilith pushed into him, and Adam sobbed on a moan, back arching until the sensation.

"Isn't this better, Adam? This taste of what truth freedom can be for you? Away from the responsibilities forced upon you by Heaven?" Lilith asked him, rolling her hips as Lucifer watched. "You would be so much happier in hell, with me. I could treat you the way you need to be treated."

"Fuck," Adam got out, voice shaking as he was roughly fucked into. "I can't-"

Lilith leaned over his back, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling his head backwards. "You could. You could have all of this and more - you miss him, don't you? You miss Lucifer."

Adam let a whine escape his lips, mouth falling open. "I..."

"If he could see you now, do you know what he'd be thinking?" Lilith half purred, not stopping her thrusts into the man. Lucifer watched with a dry mouth, not knowing what she was about to say, because he himself didn't know what he was thinking anymore.

"How much he'd enjoy having two wives."

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #Lilith #Eden trio #lucililidam

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ukrfeminism · 1 year ago

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One morning in 2007, Frances Harper was taking a bath and listening to the local news on BBC Radio Suffolk when one story caught her attention. A young woman, Louise, was being interviewed about her life as a sex worker in Ipswich. “I couldn’t see how this interview was helping her situation at all,” says Harper, who was 60 at the time. “I got out of the bath and made some notes. I realised she needed a documentary to tell her story properly and I thought perhaps I could try to make it.”

Harper had never owned a video camera and had no idea how to shoot a film. She had spent the past four decades working in secretarial jobs, as well as raising her son and supporting her husband in his construction business. “I was busy but something was always missing,” she says. “Something I could do for myself.”

Armed with a sudden sense of purpose and without a current job to keep her occupied, Harper rushed out to buy a basic camera, read the manual and began looking up ways to contact Louise. The police wouldn’t share her details, but after finding the name of her solicitor in the local paper, she left a letter with the firm to be passed on. “Soon after, Louise phoned me and we decided to meet in a cafe in Ipswich,” Harper says. “I told her I’d like to make a documentary to share her story and help her. She agreed, and that was my entry into an entirely new world.”

Following Louise most days for weeks, Harper documented her life on the streets, her drug addiction and sex work, all while learning how to shoot and interview. “She told me that no one had motivated her or really cared about her life,” she says. “She was interested in art and history, so we went to galleries together and I even took her to an afternoon tea – all things she’d never done before. We spent a lot of time together because I had the time to spare.”

The more Harper got to know Louise, the more concerned she became about her life and especially her living situation. “She was basically sleeping in an electrical cupboard on the streets of Ipswich,” she says. “I started booking her into bed and breakfasts to keep her off the streets. It really showed me how lucky I had been. It’s changed my thinking ever since.”

Once she had enough footage, Harper put together a taster of the film and contacted the local BBC News office in Norwich. The idea of an older Ipswich resident befriending a young sex worker and producing a film was so unusual that Harper was invited to a meeting and commissioned to shoot a half-hour special for BBC East, which aired in February 2008. “I couldn’t believe that Louise’s story would be out there,” she says. “I hadn’t told too many people about it so my friends were shocked when it came out. Once it did, I also managed to battle with the council to finally get Louise a proper flat.”

Sixteen years later, Harper, 76, is fully immersed in film-making. After her experience with Louise, she became interested in the world of drug addiction and produced a film for Sky, which was narrated by Davina McCall and followed two mothers coping with the impact of their sons’ drug abuse. She has also completed a commercial film for the seaside town of Southwold and a charity short for an emergency response service. She is now working on a series about women in horticulture as well as a film about the life of female fighter pilots.

“I just can’t stop,” she says. “It really feels like I’ve found my calling. I get ideas all the time, although I can’t make all of them because I fund my own projects and it’s hard to come by funding for older people.”

But age does have some advantages. “I think people are more inclined to be polite around me because I’m older,” she says. “I’ve also gained newfound confidence through this work. I didn’t know whether I’d achieve anything but I just kept going. I weaved around the obstacles in my way.”

As well as changing her life, Harper has recently learned how her films have had a profound impact on other people too. “Louise contacted me last year and we just carried on talking as if no time had passed,” she says. “She told me: ‘You were the only person who believed in me.’ It made that decision to pick up the camera completely worth it.”

You can watch Harper’s films via the link below:

#Articles #Sex industry #community

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loveliestlovelygirl · 1 year ago

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divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

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castlebyersafterdark · 8 days ago

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🌈REVELATIONS ⛪️

Safe. Out of breath, but out of sight.

They locked the doors to the church and strained and struggled but pulled together to drag one of the pews in a barricade against the doors. Just as one extra precaution. They'd lost the demodeer herd a mile back but adrenaline kept them on a steady bolt, overly panicked as their reconnaissance mission failed and turned into one of survival and waiting.

When in danger, find shelter. Blockade. Stick together. Stay quiet. Wait for the next signal. Hope your radio didn't die and you reminded unseen.

"I think we're alone now. We're fine. We're totally fine." Breathless, and braced against the side of the nearest pew, Mike gave himself reassurances out loud while Will crouched down and focused on level breathing.

"Yeah. Safe," Will repeated. Not something he'd accurately felt in years. Couldn't remember.

"Hey. Hey come here."

Mike pulled Will to his feet and held him close. Chest to chest. Arms wrapped around Will's back. Big hands cradling skull and shoulder blade as Will sucked in a shakey breath and held on just as tight.

"I got you. We're good. We're safe."

"Sure," Will disagreed, voice a dark laugh and cheek a wet stain as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Mike's neck.

Mike had been doing that a lot recently. Hugging him. Touching him. Going out of the way to make sure he was doing alright. Keeping him safe.

It made Will nervous. Liking it as much as he did. He shouldn't.

"...and out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron. And he..."

Will stopped in his tracks. What -

The lights.

(continued under cut)

Will stepped closer to inspect the electric candles, one built into each side of the pews. He leaned in to listen to the preacher's words, softly echoing from the other side in the scattered, floating particles of light. In the right side up, church was in session.

He stepped away and walked slowly along the rows of wooden benches towards the front of the church, catching snippets of the passage being recited to the gathered congregation with fire and brimstone fury as he walked along the trails of light, which flickered as he went and distorted the voice like an in between radio station.

"...and with him the false prophet that wrought miracles before him, with which he deceived them that had..."

Will stopped in front of the altar after ascending the set of stairs. Back in reality, where vines did not cover the church and perpetual night time covered the land, golden sun would wash down through the stained glass and bathe the sanctuary in a kaleidoscope of light and color. Blue, gray and the danger of red comprised Will's current palette - this world he'd help to shape.

He braced his hands on the altar and took a deep breath. Almost thought touching the wood - the mimic, the doppelganger of that thought to be sacred table - would burst him into flames.

"Will?"

He spun at the sound his name and turned to Mike. The glittering specs from the lighted pews lined the aisle, suspended in the damp, dark, stale air. Unmoving like a starry night, unlike the few specs that had clung to Will as he'd walked by. A magnet for the tiny dots of energy.

"Are you ok?"

"...which is the Devil, and bound him a thousand years and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, that he should deceive..."

Will brushed off the specs of lpreaching, pixie dust preachings, warnings for the eternal soul. Look where he stood. A mockery. Back in Hell again. Willingly, this time.

"This is where they held my memorial service. When I, you know..."

He said it nonchalant, a pained smile on his face as he leaned back against the altar. Casual. Whether he belonged there or not.

"When they found that fake body."

"When I died. Before you all buried me."

"But you didn't."

"Most of you didn't know that."

He'd heard it, some of it. The preacher's voice just like today as his younger self took solace in the safety of the church. A voice that praised his poor young soul. Prayed for his salvation. All for a dummy stuffed with fluff. A rubber boy in a facade of a casket with needless tears dropped on the lid.

He remembered his grandmother, his father's mother, had tried with him and Jonathan. Forced them certain Sundays, forced his father to sit uncomfortably in the pews beside his boys, not so dutiful but trying. Joyce never went. Always worked Sundays.

The attempts were abandoned even before Lonnie ditched them all.

"But I knew. I never gave up on you."

"...and I saw an angel come down from heaven..."

His pale face shone in the blue darkness and dim light. Determined. True.

"I know."

Will waved a hand over one of the wax candles on thin iron stands that dotted the raised platform of sanctuary. It lit without spark or match or touch. He did it again to the others in his vicinity.

The things he'd discovered he could do terrified him.

Mike watched his best friend in awe.

"Kind of hard to believe a boy like me is hiding in a place like this. If I tried this on the right side..."

"What do you mean?"

"Mike..." Will took a steadying breath. Fearful. Terrified. Suddenly brimming with truth. When better than following a moment of life-or-death, in a place that glorified confessions. "Don't make me say it. Please. Don't make me. You know what I am."

"I don't-"

"Mike."

And Mike fell to his knees.

Hands covered his face. Shuddering breath. Crumpled before the altar, before Will.

Will descended from his place on high and rushed to Mike. Kneeled in front of the love of his life. Begged to understand.

"I've lied to you. I've lied to everyone."

"What-"

"I'm sorry. Will, I'm so sorry."

"...and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain..."

Mike took Will's hand in his own, and raised it, in worship, in love, in benediction to the boy he'd been devoted to since life had begun to fill memory. He kissed the knuckles, smelled the scent of smoke on skin from otherworldly fire. And let go. And made a decision.

And kissed Will.

And kissed him and kissed him. And was kissed back.

He didn't have to say it.

Gasps of breath. Hands grasping at shoulders, arms, faces, frantic. Mouths seeking their counterpart. Over and over.

The faintest sound of yelling. Candles burning bright. The lights that lined the aisles flashed and flickered, in tune with the sealing and slide of new lover's lips.

"Mike."

Foreheads pressed together. Mike's hands cradled Will's face, more force than intended but secure, a lifeline. A promise.

"Mike, is this real? It's... it's not-"

"It's real. I'm real. He's not here. You don't- you don’t feel him, right?"

Will felt Mike's pulse. His heartbeat.

Visions lacked either, they'd all found. On rare occasion when they were able to get close enough to check.

"Are you... are you like..." Are you like me? Abominations together. Unholy beings. No. Not a mistske. How could something that felt so right and good and beautiful be evil. "I thought I was so alone. Are you-"

"I don't know what I am. I'm working on it. But not... not how I feel about you. I think it's always been you, Will. Always you."

Will's smile could split the sky, could light up the entire dismal dimension. It belonged to Mike. All for him.

"It's always been you too, for me. I'm in love with you."

Another crashing kiss.

The lights flickered and surged.

"...stay calm, everyone! Join me in prayer. Together we will stand against this evil. This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer! Join..."

And the lights burned brighter yet, flickering in a circling rotation, then random, surging with power. All while two boys seeking refuge in a tainted and tarnished place of worship expressed pure love and devotion to one another.

Darkness, after the lights all burst on the other side. A final echo of yells rang out from the lingering specs of light until they also faded away until all that remained was the conjured burning candlelight surrounding the altar.

Mike stood, and took Will with him, never parting as they kissed and stumbled to the nearest pew...

(to be continued...)

🖤🖤🖤

#🤭 Happy Easter? I was desperate to write something today and a recent convo about religion inspired me #I'm going to edit this and continue/rework into something formal and something more intense and weirder soon #Needed to get this vision out. Had a prompt asking for churchgate sex lol and I'm working it out!#Final version will be spicy but here's a festive sacrilegious placeholder teaseeeee for now 🤭🥰#Spicy Byler #Not yet but leading there I promise

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dreaminofdixon · 2 months ago

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One.

Let's start from the beginning... We'll learn a little bit about the protag and where her experience with the previously-dead but currently-undead begins.

No smut...yet. :) We're just getting started, of course!

I stared out the window at the Atlanta city skyline, the events from earlier in the day replaying through my mind like a reel - over and over. The news had been going crazy over the last couple of weeks with talk about people coming back from the dead, with cell phone videos of what had been deemed ‘the walking dead.’ These were people who had supposedly died and were now eating the living - people, animals, anything with a heartbeat - and ripping into their flesh. I hadn’t really encountered it—one of the perks of working from home, I guess. I hadn’t seen just how bad things had gotten until now. Today was the first time I’d ventured out of my home because grocery delivery hadn’t been available.

To say I was horrified? That is an absolute understatement.

A couple of my coworkers had told stories in our daily Teams meetings, and I’d always thought they were just stories. But after today I had no doubts that those stories were actual accounts of their experiences.

I looked down at my phone where it sat lifeless on the wooden bath tray and picked it up to check the time. The screen lit up—5% battery, but that wasn’t the problem. No signal. No WiFi. No service. I tapped at the icons, restarted the connection. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing.

The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding left me in a slow exhale.

This wasn’t just a bad signal.

I let out a breath and pushed the tray away before grabbing the fluffy, charcoal gray towel and standing from the bath water. The thoughts rushing through my mind were many and all of them were equally terrifying. The water began glugging down the drain and I wrapped myself in the towel on the way out of the bathroom, my fingers mindlessly tapping at the phone screen - the efforts fruitless.

A little less than a year ago, I’d picked up my life in the PNW and moved down to Georgia for a job. In the months I’d been here, I hadn’t had the time or energy to dedicate to making friends. I’d opted to stay buried in my work, trying to learn everything I could in order to keep climbing that ladder. And aside from the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the accompanying fan, the silence was something I’d grown accustomed to. I was perfectly fine being a loner. I didn’t need anyone or anything else to keep me going except electricity.

So when I didn’t hear those two very familiar, very specific sounds, my breath hitched.

The silence was too thick, too unnatural.

I moved toward the light switch, heart pounding.

If the power was out, this wasn’t just some storm knocking out a cell tower. This was something worse.

I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat and closed my eyes as I flipped the switch. Honestly, I didn’t even need to open them to realize that the light hadn’t turned on. There was no question. The power had been shut off, unfortunately not due to something as simple as an unpaid bill. I pressed my forehead against the wall, forcing down the panic rising in my chest. I had no family here. No friends. No one to check on me.

And now, the world was ending.

And I was completely, terrifyingly alone.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus #daryl dixon twd #norman reedus smut #bigbaldhead #wwwbigbaldhead #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fan fiction

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together.

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs…sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

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ultram0th · 1 year ago

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31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 31: Tyler Hoechlin to Derek Hale TF

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 🎃

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this Derek Hale Tf Marathon! It was so much fun to make, and I hope that you all liked what I put out!

-- -- --

Actor Tyler Hoechlin filtered through some emails to waste time before he had to get ready. The actor was supposed to make an appearance at some celebrity Halloween party for photo ops. He wasn’t above taking a picture here and there, but he hadn’t even began to think about a costume, nor had his assistant just grabbed one for him.

“I could just wear a bedsheet and go as a ghost?” Tyler chuckled to himself, thinking that it’d be so lame that it’d be good.

He deleted several emails from casting agents who thought that he’d be great in one of their low-budget horror movies that was supposed to go straight to steaming services. Tyler couldn’t help but grimace at doing anything horror related.

After spending so many years being cast as Derek Hale on Teen Wolf, the last thing he wanted to do was something spooky-ish, lest he risk being typecasted. Already, the actor played Superman on Superman & Lois, but he still had several people on the street referring to him as “Derek”. Of course, Tyler was grateful that so many fans appreciated his work on the MTV series, but there was a part of him that was ready to let the role go.

Which was why he’d frowned deeply at the email from Jeff Davis, the creator of Teen Wolf. Tyler begrudgingly clicked on it, scanning it a little until he got to the reason for the reaching out:

“…MTV is interested in rebooting the Teen Wolf series, and after the negative reception of the movie, the producers have decided not to count it as canon. Can we count on you to return as Beacon Hills’s resident Alpha, Derek Hale?”

Not even bothering to respond to it, Tyler moved the mouse towards the garbage icon to delete it. Before he could click it, his laptop screen flickered and an odd electric shock sparked out, actually shocking Tyler.

The actor recoiled his hand at the sensation, the electric shock sending a tingling feeling throughout the rest of his body for a brief moment.

“What the hell?” Tyler wondered aloud. He closed his laptop and shoved himself away from his desk, making a mental note to buy a new laptop tomorrow since his was obvious short-circuiting.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, seeing that he was supposed to start getting ready for the party. Tyler rubbed his temples and walked towards the bathroom so that he could start getting ready.

As he undressed, the actor could feel a little apprehension starting to seep into his bones about attending the party. The normally social Tyler Hoechlin, for some unknown reason, began to frown at the thought of being at a stuffy Halloween party that was going to be packed with people, wall to wall. The thought of being trapped in a room, shoulder to shoulder, with other people made Tyler shudder, and he began to think of reasons to bail. He thought that it was odd, but he chalked it up to his social battery just being abnormally low that night.

Still, Tyler told himself that he couldn’t just be a no-show. He’d promised his friend and previous costar, Dylan O’Brien, that he’d show up and the two could catch up over a drink.

Tyler could’ve sworn that his heart started to race in his chest for some reason, his limbs tingling with excitement. “What’s going on?” he mumbled to himself, confused as to why he seemed to be so giddy to see Dylan. “It’s just Stiles. I saw him last week…”

He coughed and cleared his throat, having no clue why he’d accidentally referred to Dylan as his old character, Stiles. Tyler shook it off and hopped into the shower. As he bathed, Tyler couldn’t seem to get Dylan out of his head.

“What is going on with me?” he asked himself, wondering why he couldn’t get the man’s dimples out of his mind. What was even weirder to the man was that his cock started to plump up, sticking straight out in front of him.

Tyler had never had a gay thought in his life, and despite seeing all of the Sterek fan art online, he’d never entertained the thought of him and Dylan together. Yet, for some unknown reason, the more he pictured his toned, mole-spotted body, his cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck it,” Tyler grunted as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping away.

Tyler was so lost in the pleasure that rippled throughout his body as he jerked off, bellowing out low moans the entire time. His free hand ran over his muscled chest, his fingers running through the thick pelt of chest hair—

“Wh-what?” Tyler grunted as he looked down, still playing with his throbbing cock as he stared down at his previously smooth chest. Despite having just shaved his pecs earlier that morning for some pictures as the smooth-chested Superman, Tyler’s chest was now covered in thick, black chest hair. The hairs covered his meaty pecs and ran down his stomach, connecting to his bush by a noticeable happy trail. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tyler’s confusion was briefly forgotten when all of his large muscles tensed up, and his cock erupted with a spray of cum, shooting a large load against the linoleum of his shower.

The stud was left panting, leaning against the other wall of the shower as he tried to catch his breath. Tyler ran a shaky hand through his wet hair, trying to piece together the fact that not only was his chest hairy, but he’d also just jerked off to another guy— one of his past costars at that.

“I guess Stiles is kinda cute,” he begrudgingly muttered, flinching for a second. “Um, I mean Dylan.”

Tyler finished up his shower and dried himself off in a daze, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He knew that something was up, but whenever he tried to concentrate on it, a new growing part of his brain told him not to worry about it. Even as he dried off his hairy chest, his panic that he knew should’ve been there was barely audible.

The actor was puzzling over it as he lumbered back to his bedroom to get dressed. He opted to grab a nice designer suit of out his closet, one that was supposed to make him look like 007. Yet, when Tyler pulled on the white button shirt, he huffed in irritation over how tight it felt.

“Damn it,” he grunted, unable to close the top four buttons of the shirt over his broad chest muscles. He tried his best to suck in his stomach in order to make himself smaller, but his fuzzy pecs were too large to fit into the tiny shirt. His wide back muscles were far too wide, and his biceps threatened to tear the expensive fabric to shreds. Tyler could’ve sworn that the shirt had fit him perfectly at the store, yet now it was at least two sizes too small for him.

With an annoyed huff, Tyler tossed the shirt to the floor and stomped over to his wardrobe to find something that would fit over his muscles. As he stared at the expensive clothes in his closet, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a large bubble of animosity start to form in his gut. The thought of parading around in such garish and over-priced threads was almost repulsive to him.

Without a second thought, Tyler hurried over to his dresser and yanked on a tight, gray tank top that barely fit over his large muscles. He pulled on some worn blue jeans that hugged his butt nicely. As the finishing piece, Tyler snatched a black leather jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, feeling much more at home in it than he would some brand name suit.

Tyler paused to look at himself in the mirror before exiting his house, noting that he looked like he was wearing his usual outfit that his character Derek Hale wore on the set of Teen Wolf. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but then gasped.

“What the hell…?” his voice trailed off when he leaned in closer to the mirror, his eyes honing in on his teeth. As impossible as it seemed, Tyler could’ve sworn that his canines were bigger. They stood out much more prominently than the rest of his teeth, looking like the actor was wearing caps over them, trying to make them look larger and sharper. “I, uh, I guess these are supposed to be the sharper teeth… Shit!”

Tyler jerked back in surprise at the way his smooth, freshly shaven chin was now covered in a trimmed beard. The way his sideburns connected to it indicated that Tyler must’ve been growing out his facial hair over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. However, he knew for a fact that he’d shaved his face not even an hour ago, letting him know that something was indeed wrong.

In disbelief, the hairier hunk grabbed at the hairs covering his chin, shocked that they were real and attached to him.

His heart began to race in his beefy chest, but he was quickly distracted when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Despite himself, Tyler snatched it out and glanced at the screen, his stomach doing flips when he read that it was a text from Stiles/Dylan.

Hey! I’m at the party! You’re coming, right? it read.

Tyler couldn’t ignore the giddy excitement that rippled through him, and he caught himself smiling like a goofball, his larger canines poking out of his mouth.

On my way, he responded, grabbing his keys and leaving his house.

Tyler rushed over to his garage and opened the door, not even thinking twice before hopping into his black Camaro instead of his Tesla before he sped down the street towards the party, eager to see Stiles— or Dylan.

He floored the gas pedal as he rushed to the party, irritated when he hit a red light. Tyler groaned impatiently and rested his head against the headrest in irritation. His eyes glanced towards the rearview mirror, and Tyler gasped at what he saw.

He almost tore the rearview mirror off of its fixture as he leaned closer, seeing that his brow appeared much more prominent than it should’ve. That, and his eyebrows were missing for some reason. His ears had elongated, ending in points that protruded far off his head.

Tyler ran a disbelieving hand over his facial features, feeling ridiculous. He had just enough awareness to recall looking in the mirror on the set of Teen Wolf, seeing the same exact look whenever he was made up into Derek Hale’s beta form. Yet, he could feel the nerve endings whenever he touched his new canine ears, paling at what that indicated—

HONK!

The car behind him blared its horn as the light turned green, snapping Tyler out of his panic.

Tyler just bared his teeth in the mirror and continued on his way. All of the cars on the road, the bright lights of the city, and the too poppy songs on the radio all seemed to get under the stud’s skin, and a firm scowl planted itself onto his handsome face.

It wasn’t long until Tyler pulled up in front of a large convention center that had a valet service up front. He stopped and got out of his Camaro, unable to hold back the intimidating snarl when he tossed the valet his keys.

“There better not be a scratch on it when I get back,” he muttered, noting the deeper quality to his voice. He cleared his throat as he walked up towards the entrance where a large bouncer stood, clipboard in hand.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Derek Hale,” Tyler answered automatically, flinching and clearing his throat again. “Sorry about that, my name’s Der— er, Tyler Hoechlin.” He didn’t know why saying his name seemed like some Herculean feat, the actor having to clench his fists in order to get it out of his mouth.

The bouncer simply looked down at the list on the clipboard before nodding and ushering Tyler inside.

Tyler rubbed at his temples as he tried to piece together what was happening. However, the second he stepped foot inside, all of his senses appeared to have heightened as they were all assaulted at once.

Tyler winced at the onslaught of stimuli: the lights in the room were far too bright and he had to nearly squint in order to adjust his sight; the music was blaring out of the speakers, blasting at a near deafening volume; and the stench of overpriced alcohol singed his nostrils, making him grimace. The stud was ready to about face until a familiar scent wafted by.

It took a few seconds for Tyler to realize that he’d been sniffing at the air like a search dog, blushing once he’d been made aware of the other celebrities eying him confusedly. Still, the familiar smell of curly fries alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he found himself barreling through the crowd towards the source.

Tyler’s gaze honed in on Stiles, the cute guy standing over by one of the tables. He was dressed in a suit that had a red coat that made Tyler’s heart flutter in his chest. Immediately, he felt his scowl starting to loosen up the slightest bit, and the more he approached, the quicker Tyler noticed the other guy talking to Stiles.

“Grrr…” Tyler growled out of instinct. As soon as the animalistic sound left his lips, the shocked stud slapped a hand over his mouth. He had no idea why he’d literally just growled like a dog, but once he looked back over at Stiles and the other man talking, he couldn’t prevent the sound from uttering from his lips once more, his large chest vibrating from the noise.

Stiles picked up on the noise and looked over in his direction, smiling and waving him over. “Hey!” he called.

Tyler ceased growling and couldn’t prevent the wide smile from growing on his face as he hurried over to his boyfriend— or past costar. As Tyler was trying to figure out why he was so eager to see the other guy, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling the smaller guy closer into him.

Stiles turned to the other man. “Jeff, you remember Derek, right?” he asked before furrowing his brow in confusion.

The other guy just looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I sure do,” he grinned, holding out his hand for Derek to shake.

At first, the werewolf just sneered at the other man’s hand, jealousy still coursing through his veins. However, after a slight nudge from Stiles, Derek begrudgingly took it and squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slight wincing from the other man. “Nice to meet you,” he grunted.

Jeff didn’t look too fazed. “As I was telling Dylan, er, Stiles over here,” he said, “I was hoping to hear more about your stories in Beacon Hills. I’m with a large production company that would love to—”

“Not interested,” Derek interrupted, having absolutely zero desire to have his pack’s business advertised in any manner. He was as anti-social as they came, and the idea of talking to some big shot production guy made his headache grow.

Jeff frowned. “…yeah, I guess I did write him like this…”

Derek ignored that, and instead held on tightly to Stiles as he led him out of the crowd of people and towards the exit. They left the convention center and handed the valet the ticket.

“Der,” Stiles piped up, looking just as confused as he was, “um, how the hell did we get in LA?”

Derek’s brow furrowed too as he scratched at the back of his head. He felt like something was wrong, hearing some quiet voice in the back of his head that said that he wasn’t an alpha werewolf. For a brief second, his hairy muscles felt far too big and he wondered why he was so turned on by another man. However, the voice was immediately silenced when Stiles interlocked his fingers with his.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Derek finally said, shaking his head as he took the keys back from the valet. He and Stiles got into the Camaro, and Derek sped down the street back towards Beacon Hills.

The alpha werewolf rested his arm around the headrest of Stiles’s seat, the motion making his large biceps stretch his leather jacket slightly. Stiles leaned in closer to him, resting his head on his broad shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but puff out his hairy chest with pride, his inner wolf howling with content.

Derek Hale smiled widely, absolutely loving his life.

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