#glass partition fit out

[interiorergonomics]

Interior Glass Fit Out Services

These interior glass fit out services in Dubai represent a transformative approach to interior design and fit out. Glass fit outs offer a seamless blend of elegance, functionality and versatility. Renowned for its sleek and modern aesthetic, glass infuses spaces with a sense of openness and transparency. In this case, it creates an atmosphere of sophistication and openness highly demanded to maximize minimalism in collaborative spaces.

From glass wall partitions and glass doors to glass railings, these architectural elements allow natural light to permeate deep into the interior. With such intention of illuminating spaces with a soft yet diffused glow, Expect to boost the overall ambiance and well-being of occupants.

These interior glass fit out services provide customizable solutions to meet any specific needs and design preferences of clients. Surely, clients are offered a wide range of options in terms of glass types, finishes and configurations. Remember, these interior glass works are used to delineate work zones, create private meeting areas or showcase product displays without convenience.

Claim these glass partition fit out services to add a touch of modernity and refinement to any commercial interior.

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[commercialfitout]

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[a-pastel-edgelord]

Izuku Midoriya is a full grown man with a job that has benefits. He lives in a lovely apartment that's 1,000 square feet. He does his own house work, he buys groceries, he runs errands and can even pick out clothes that fit properly.

But when his Mom goes away for a few weeks for a vacation (one that he paid for by the way) he really really misses her cooking. That's why, on a rainy day after a hard day at work (a couple of his students keep getting into fights and Aizawa just looks at him with a dumb smile while telling him to deal with it and no he won't help) he slips into a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. There are ten seats at the bar that separates the dining area from the curtained off-kitchen. The stool creaks as he sits. There are no menus.

You pass through the curtain, dark spectacles sitting on your nose and a bandana around your head. "Whatcha want?"

"Uh, what do you have?"

Your brow arches. "What do ya want?"

He sweats. "Ah, can you, uh, do pork katsudon?"

"Gimme fifteen minutes."

It takes eighteen minutes, but you reappear with a large and steaming bowl plus a small sauce bottle. You place it in front of him with practiced ease. "Anything else?"

"No! Thank you!"

You plop a glass of water on his left then turn away to go into the back once more.

"Wait!"

"Hm?" You half lean out of the partition.

"How much..?"

You stick your tongue in one of your cheeks. You hum. He feels sweat starting to bead again and then you answer flat, "First time's free. Next time you'll pay." With that, you flit behind the curtain.

Izuku blinks, glances down at his food and takes a bite. It's a clever tactic, he reflects as he swallows, because this just might be just as good if not better than his mom's dish.

He ends up leaving a couple bills on the counter and tries to leave. You catch him before he takes two steps out. "Didn't ya understand me?" You wave the bills at him. "Pay the next time you're here."

"Maybe... consider it a down payment?"

You tilt your head, chewing on his answer. You hum again and your lips unstitch into a pointy smile. "See you on Friday."

Sure enough, he goes back on Friday.

・✦▭▭▭✧◦✦◦✧▭▭▭✦・

[k-hotchoisan]

Hello hello!!! I literally haven’t sent an ask in forever but your writing IS SOOOO GOOD 😮‍💨🤌🏾🤎🤎🤎🤎

Can I request 18. Or 22.👀👀😂

I mayhaps am a Mingi Stan lmfaoooo!

Congrats on getting 500 followers!!🫶🏾

22. Missionary with Seonghwa or Doggy with Mingi?

BACK TO BACK MINGI LETS FUCKIN GOOOOO thank you for ur well wishes and compliments baby 🩷 hehe enjoy mingi!

Warnings: smut, pwp, size training @ the beginning, backshots, unprotected sex, it’s mingi and his fat dick, cream pies, orgasms

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie (message me to be in taglist!)

K’s 500 this or that Masterlist here!

When Mingi told you his cock was big, you totally did not believe him until you actually saw his cock. It was once when you sneaked into your shared bathroom with him because you left your phone at the edge of the sink. You slowly pushed the door open and the folding door bends, but Mingi is too busy rapping while letting the hot water run down his back, the steam fogging up the shower partition. You, at the perfect fucking timing, turn your head to your partner who was absolutely oblivious, and your eyes went straight to his cock. Even in the fogged up glass, you could still make out his shape—he’s definitely a grower from the looks of it. Before you realise what the fuck you were even doing, you manage to snap out of it in time before slipping out of the bathroom successfully.

And that’s how you ended up in the predicament of letting Mingi slowly inch into you and keeping his cock in your pussy as you adjust to it over the course of a little over a week. Mingi doesn’t know how he’s able to control himself because every time he enters his cockhead into you, he just wants to spilt you open so fucking badly, but he recognises that your comfort comes first, so he pushes his feral thoughts aside, often biting his cheek when he enters you from below, distracting himself by drawing circles on your thigh while he snuggled against the nape of your neck when the both of you cuddle.

He often whispers praises when you’re able to fit in another inch or two, sometimes teasing you before you slap his chest from behind but he wants to make sure you grow accustomed to his size.

He knows it’ll be worth every minute.

And he’s rewarded when on the ninth day, his cock sinks into you fully and his mind completely turns into mush the moment he’s buried into you to the hilt. He hears your whimpers and gasps as you clench around him once more and he kisses the nape of your neck while rubbing your thighs.

“Shit, that feels so good. You did so well for me, princess”, he groans, fighting the urge to start pounding into you, so he opts to squeeze your thighs instead. “How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full, babe”, you whine, wanting to contract the muscles on your abdomen from the pleasure, your palm pressing against the bulge pushing against your womb.

He gives you time to adjust once more, groaning from time to time when he feels you squeeze around him.

“You can start moving, Min”, you mutter, pressing your face into the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut as your grip on his arm around your waist tightens. He pulls out and you squeeze his arm, your thighs trembling from how fucking good he feels as his cock just drags against your cunt.

And he slowly starts fucking you, filling you right up, his cockhead always pressing against your cervix, while he listens to you slowly unravel through squeezes and moans. Mingi makes the mistake of looking down, and he swallows hard when he sees the way you’re creaming so fucking much on his cock.

“You’re gonna drive me insane babe”, he says, tightening his grip around you as he picks up the pace, stroking your thighs as he lifts it up so he enters you at a much deeper angle, one that makes fireworks explode beneath your eyelids. “Mingi…! Fuck! Oh god, you’re so big,”you sob, feeling your mind slowly break from the pleasure. The pressure has practically subsided, and now it’s just pleasure after pleasure whenever he fucks into you. Fuck, you’re gonna get disgustingly addicted to this. It doesn’t help your case that his moans are deep and it vibrates in your ears, you feel your cunt spit more slick—all the more it being easier for him to slide his cock in and out of you now, feeling his balls slap against your skin with every thrust.

Mingi hisses as he pulls out of you, before he shifts himself to go behind you, and you shift automatically with him, your ass perched up in the air while his hands are on your hips.

He pushes his cock in slowly and swallows hard when his cock glides into your sopping cunt so fucking easily. He almost loses his fucking mind.

“Look at you, princess. So well adjusted to my cock that it slides in so easily now”, Mingi hums, giving your ass a soft squeeze that draws a squeal from you, before he doesn’t give you a warning to start pounding into you once more. Your eyes are rolled back, your fingers holding onto the sheets for dear life as he abuses your cervix from this fucking insane position. You’re practically bouncing off his cock and the new angle completely breaking your mind, with only broken moans and cries leaving you every time he thrusts into you.

And Mingi fucking loves it.

The knot in your tummy tightens and drool is seeping past the corner of your lips as you can’t even find the energy to tell him properly that you’re about to cum.

“Cumming-“ you barely finish your sentence before your orgasm hits you, white spots filling your vision the pleasure shoots into your brain and cunt, squeezing the fuck out of Mingi’s cock. Your mind is somewhere else at this point, the only constant feeling is Mingi’s cock just shoved into you so fucking good.

“A-ah, fuck! Oh princess, you’re squeezing me so much-“ Mingi grunts his cock twitching so damn much as his thrusts become erratic. A long, drawn moan Mingi releases before he jerks into your cunt, warm cum filling you up as he doesn’t want to let go of your hips. His body tenses for a few more seconds, and he catches his breath before he slowly pulls out, watching the way the mixture of his load and yours drip out of your abused and fluttering hole, and drizzle downwards.

He releases his grip on your hips and your lower body slides down onto the bed. Mingi’s arm snakes around your waist as he pulls you close, his other hand brushing your hair back from your face as he presses a kiss on your forehead before you let yourself be taken by sleep.

[throneofsapphics]

against the contract, chapter 5

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: mentions of nightmares, smut

word count: 2191

a/n: I hope you all enjoy!

prev. part | series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon)

The same nightmare, that lovely one of your mother as a demon had returned, and you found yourself sitting up straight in bed, staring at the opposing wall for a good five minutes before you decided a moment longer would be all it took to make you lose your mind. 

Wrapping a robe around you, tying it in a neat knot, foregoing shoes, you made for your front door. A walk would do you some good, calm your mind enough you could fall back asleep again. At least you kept telling yourself that, and knew that if you manifested it enough it should come true. 

On auto-pilot, you wandered down the halls, back towards the doors where you’d first entered...you couldn’t call it a house, this estate or manor or palace or whatever term truly fit in. Hand brushing over the partitions in the windows, not the glass themselves, you reached for the handle. A little night time stroll couldn’t hurt. They had plethora of security for fucks sake, and nobody needed to know. 

“Going somewhere?” A voice, cool like night, echoed in the room behind you, bouncing over tiles and winding over walls right into your soul and freezing you in place. 

“No,” you said too quickly, and turned to face Azriel, instinctively tucking your hands behind your back. Like a kid with something to hide. 

“It sure looked like it, your hand was nearly on the door handle.” 

Instead of incriminating yourself further, you decided to remain silent, only in hindsight realizing that probably had the opposite effect to what you desired. 

A chuckle, and shoes barely thudded across the tiles, as if he was walking on a mattress. 

You kept your head ducked. He could kick you out for this, end the contract, release you. How could you be so stupid? There was so much more left to do – his tight grip on your chin raised your eyes to meet his. Whatever had produced the small laugh earlier was gone, left in its wake a darkness so consuming you wanted to let it drown you. 

“I don’t like liars,” he squeezed your chin, once. “But we’re calling that a one-off, aren’t we?” 

“It won’t happen again,” you swore, and meant it. 

“Good,” he released your chin and took your hand instead, guiding you back through the halls. It took too long for you to realize he wasn’t taking you to your rooms. Had he changed his mind about your lying? The walls grew familiar before your thoughts could spiral further, and he led you through the doors of the kitchens. The private one, designed just for night time wanderings like these. 

Minutes later, he ushered you back through the halls, this time with one hand on the small of your back as both of yours gripped the warm mug of tea. Your entire body was on edge from the encounter, adrenaline pumping through your veins strong enough you doubted the usually magical sleeping elixir would work 

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, you curled up by the head with your mug, his gaze frequently flickering back to you, making sure you were still drinking. 

‘A man who liked to see things through’ you thought, and thought perhaps if you’d met in other circumstances, things could be different. Perhaps if you’d met the three of them another way. At the end, you had to remind yourself this was just an exchange to them. And to you? It was your damning 

-

Azriel was determined to make sure you were asleep before he left. They hadn’t been kidding about wandering the grounds at night, and he wouldn’t sleep well if he thought you were in any kind of danger. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, do it but he did have half a mind to lock you in your room. He’d have other things to tend to before he would be able to fall asleep, looking at how your sheer robe kept dipping to the side, exposing the swell of your breast and that sweet skin he was aching for a taste of. 

”I know this is supposed to calm me down, but I have too much energy now,” you placed the cup of tea on your side table.

”Need someone to fuck it out of you?” He didn’t know where the words came from, but enjoyed the way your skin heated, eyes widening and mouth parting. Azriel would've thought you were used to such vulgarity by now. Rhys hadn’t forbidden this, in fact he’d encouraged it. 

”Are you offering?” You asked once you'd recovered, probably not as smoothly as you'd hoped it would be but he found it endearing.

”Would you rather I wake Rhys? He does enjoy his beauty sleep.” Like hell he’d wake him. 

“No need to wake him,” you leaned back on your arms. Good answer. “If you're saying you want to fuck me right now, my answer is please.”

The word was so, so sweet from your lips. Need for you, desperation flew through him so quickly he didn't bother taking all of his clothes off. Not as your fingers were moving, scrambling to undo the tie on your robe.

”I'll take it off,” he said, perhaps a bit gruffly.

You froze, arms dropping back down to your sides. Azriel stood, taking a few steps up the side of the bed to you, a predator watching his prey, and you were such a sweet and willing sacrifice. The way you looked at him, doe eyes so wide, made him feel invincible. It was easy to see how Feyre and Rhys were already addicted to you. Easy to see how he could become the same way, in little time. If he wasn't already. Azriel wouldn’t delude himself, this was more than a fucking contract already. Anyone else he would’ve dismissed on the spot for trying to leave the house at night against explicit instructions. 

But you...he couldn’t quite get enough of you, not yet. If he had his way, you wouldn’t be going anywhere until he got his fill, and heavens only know how long that might take. 

He stood and took the few steps up the side of the bed to where you were sitting, his fingers easily undoing the knot tying your robe together. He pushed your shoulders back, gently, letting you fall back against the pillows, the fabric gathering at your sides. Your soft skin was perfect, curves just right for him to hold. He leaned down and caught the skin above your breast between his teeth, sucking a small bruise for Rhys and Feyre to find in the morning. 

He moved to kneel between your legs. Azriel, who’d only ever knelt for Rhys and Feyre before, would for you if you just asked, but that wasn’t what either of you needed right now. He wondered if you felt the craving for it as strongly as he did, for the connection. 

Hands running up and down your sides, his rough skin such a contrast against yours, so soft and delicate, unmarred except for the tiny bruise blossoming on your chest. 

With two fingers, you reached up and touched it. Pressing lightly, your eyes rolled back. 

Azriel didn’t think it was possible for his cock to harden any further, but it did. 

He didn’t bother wiggling the fabric out from beneath you, just pushed it to the sides to expose the rest of you to him. 

-

You watched with eager eyes as Azriel unzipped himself, not bothering to take off the rest of his clothes, his shoes kicked off, clattering onto the floor. He pressed one of your thighs up, lining himself up at your entrance. 

You keened towards him, urging him further and further, closer and closer, craving this. The joining of two souls in the night. You whimpered as he stretched you. 

“Fuck,” Azriel cursed, and you felt much the same. 

“Slow, please,” you panted, realizing this was the first time Azriel had fucked you. Rhys had. Feyre had. But him? It made you want more, and you pushed yourself further onto him. 

“What happened to slow?” He teased. 

“Fuck me, please,” you emphasized the last word and before your lips had closed from saying it Azriel slammed the rest of the way into you. 

He fucked you with long, brutally slow strokes, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Bite me again, please,” you weren’t above begging at this point. He lowered his head, hair brushing against your neck, teeth nipping at your breast, just to the right of the spot from earlier. 

You cursed violently, clamping down around him as pleasure thrummed through you, taking over ever inch of your being and transforming you into a panting, limp mess. He threw your legs over his shoulders and bent forward, effectively bending you in half, his eyes hovering just above yours. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, and the sheer dominance in his voice had you obeying his command, mouth parting in awe as you did. He was a sight above you, threads of sweat gleaming at his forehead, his breath heavy. Hazel eyes brimming with lust and something else. 

A handful of grunts later, he was coming inside of you. You felt him spill against your inner walls, and gods it was hot. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, and collapsed onto you, quickly rolling you over so you laid on top of him, his cock still inside of you. 

“Can we s-” you cut yourself off halfway. The request was ridiculous, and he’d laugh at you for it. 

“Say it,” he breathed against your neck. 

“Can we stay like this?” 

Silence. You buried your own face in his neck. Heat flushed your skin again, this time unpleasant. 

“You want to fall asleep with my cock inside of you, love?” 

“Yes,” you mumbled against him. 

“Fine with me,” he said, and it sounded as if he meant it. 

His steady breathing, and the strokes of his hand along your back, was enough for you to finally lull back to sleep. 

-

Rhys met you at the end of the next day 

“We're not in scene now.” Rhys balanced one ankle on his knee, a tumbler of whiskey in his other hand. “It's been one month. How are you doing?”

So many words filtered through your head, incredible, sensual, life-altering, etc, caged in by memories of softer moments, moments where you wondered if the ink on the contract was smudging. 

No scene, just you join us for cards,” Feyre shifted back and forth on her feet in your doorway.

”Let me get dressed,” you murmured and turned, leaving the door wide open. Changing in front of her wasn't an issue to you. You threw on your most comfortable clothes, leggings and an oversize sweater. It was always freezing in this damned house. Looking at the expanse of wealth surrounding you, it felt a bit selfish to miss your messy little apartment, but you did.

Azriel in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he flicked on the electric kettle. Upper back muscles flexing as he reached up for a small box in the highest cabinet, he turned to show it to you. Chamomile. A silent nod from you, and he finished fixing the cup for you, adding just a touch of honey, like he'd known on instinct that's how you always took herbal teas.

Rhys led you back to your room after breakfast, rummaging through your closet and holding up various articles of clothing. You perched back on the edge of your bed, biting back a smile. He settled on a rather small dress, but you didn't mind. You let him strip off the rest of your clothes, tugging the fabric above you head and over your hips. He spun you to face one of the mirrors. “Look how beautiful you are, darling.” 

Then a horrible memory snuck in alongside the more pleasant ones...the night before you arrived, that phone call with Ianthe. 

”You know what they say, an eye for an eye.” Ianthe’s voice purred through the phone. 

”You're asking me to kill three people,” you hissed, “I can't do that.”

”Yes you can,” she said coldly. “Or you can go to prison,” and proceeded to explain exactly how she would send you there, all of the evidence that framed you. “You know what happens to pretty girls like you in prison, don't you? And I know enough people to make your time miserable.”

”You've made your point,” you snapped, and practically heard her vicious smile through the phone.

”Good to hear,” she purred.

“Fine,” you choked out, realizing it took you way too long to reply to Rhys, sitting before you. 

“Fine?” He raised a brow, amusement in his voice.

“Great, actually,” you blurted out, cheeks heating. One month in, and you had no idea how you were going to manage to kill them, the only thing you knew was it had to happen. That, or your life as you knew it was forfeit. Despite the recent closeness, they were still too careful. You needed to figure out how to get under their skin.

series taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy

@yeonalie @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @justasillylittlegoofyguy

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general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124

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[thetxtdevil]

Fashion Week

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: Yeonjun goes to Paris, France for Fashion Week to look at the latest hot styles. He's also going to meet up with a super hot model.

content: smut, fashionista idol yeonjun, supermodel fem.reader, paris/fashion week setting, they've hooked up before, strip tease?, blowjob, (fem) masturbation, consumption of cum :P, fingering, condom use finally, doggy style

word count: 1.4k

The sun was bright, shining down the many fashion lovers attending Paris Fashion Week. Yeonjun was known to attend the men's portion of fashion week. He was all for the new trends and beautiful garments that matched his own beauty. Once the shows he was invited to ended he sent his asks for certain styles and quickly heads for another show specifically for women.

Luckily, the french weather had suddenly changed, sun covered by clouds making it more bearable for Yeonjun to run down the cobblestone road to a old lavish building. Walking in the garden that surround the building, the green grass became covered with paparazzi. Yeonjun takes his time to wave and pose before continuing his journey to the show.

He loved all things fashion, the many styles, colors, its a way to express yourself however, in this show he was there for a specific supermodel. Sitting down on a wire framed chair in the front row Yeonjun relaxes under the cool breeze of air conditioning. The many women strut in spring inspired attire passing by as he watches contently. Yeonjun turn his head right when the the star of the show turns the corner.

Yeonjun leans forward elbows on his knees, he was in absolute awe. You, the supermodel he's been waiting for, strutting in confidence. Wearing an intricately made haute couture dress that fit like a glove. Yeonjun watches you closely, looking at you like you’re his next meal. Trying to focus on your walk, you simply glance towards the man keeping a straight face. Walking past him, you move your finger as a wave to the man. Yeonjun sees this little action, smirking and continues to study the dress and the definition of your exposed back.

After the show, Yeonjun makes no time for more paparazzi to take pictures of him. He was determined to make it to the back stage before you leave. A little overwhelmed by the many models changing and trying to leave, a women with a clipboard and headphones walks straight up to him, “Are you Yeonjun?”

“Uhhh yes...”

“Y/n asks for you in her dressing room.”

Yeonjun tilts his head, very pleased to have an escort to your room. The man follows the assistant making his way through the crowd of models. He arrives to a door, separating you from the crowd. Yeonjun slowly twists the doorknob and walks in. A substantial difference between the outside and the room, it was quiet with faint classical music playing in the background, and big widows that arched over head. Greenery framed the glass with a distant view of the Eiffel tower, it was simply romantic.

“I didn’t think I’d see you at the show” you walk into Yeonjun’s view hugging him. Yeonjun takes his chance to feel the expensive fabric along your body. You were currently in a slip dress worn underneath the original runway dress, the man's hands lingered for a while, he missed his little love affair with the model.

Your first big modeling gig was exciting for you and that excitement increased when you met Yeonjun at a after party. Hitting it off, naturally he lead you to his hotel room and since then every time you two were in the same city you guys meet.

You both separate when you walk to the partition, hiding the vanity, taking off your earrings and placing them on the surface. Yeonjun was not too far behind you, knowing you had nothing to hide when changing.

"After this I was thinking we can go out for a walk, get cappuccinos-" you stop mid-sentence when you feel hands unclasping your necklace. A slight shiver runs down your spine feeling his fingers graze your skin. This reaction was not unnoticed by the man. Yeonjun gets closer to your back, lightly tracing your arms, placing the delicate diamond necklace into your open palm. You watch him through your vanity mirror, watching as he presses his lips to your neck but you weren't prepared with how satisfying it would feel. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head to the side letting him lightly kiss more of your exposed skin.

"or we can just stay in this dressing room a little longer." you smile looking at Yeonjun's same reaction reflected on the mirror.

Turing around, you plant your lips against his plush ones. Delicate fingers stroking Yeonjun's black hair. His big hands around your waist, all this felt like heaven.

Making the kiss harsher, you push the man towards the velvet sofa in the middle of the room. Falling into the cushions with him, you start to grind against his hard on. Moans slipping from both ends you break the kiss, lifting yourself off of Yeonjun. Slipping out of your slip dress letting it fall on the ground and then slowly taking off your black sheer panties throwing them at Yeonjun all while seductively staring at him.

Yeonjun catches your flung garment, feeling them to see that they were soaked. He watches you hover over him crawling down hooking your fingers to the band of his pants, unbuttoning, and lowering both the trousers and briefs. You reach your hand down between your legs, gathering your juices to lubricate Yeonjun's stiff cock. The man drools and groans at the sight, laying his head down on the couch. Hissing once he feels your lips wrap around his girth, skillfully bobbing your head up and down. God you were so enchanting, it would be so sad to leave you in agony.

"Touch yourself" Yeonjun commands.

You look up at him through your lashes and a mouth full of dick. Yeonjun nods his head confirming what he said. Continuing your pleasurable sucking with one hand you reach to your dripping pussy gently rubbing circles on your clit. Your eyes roll moaning against Yeonjun's cock sending electric vibrations causing the man to climax. "Fuck, you're good at this." Yeonjun can't help but thrust up into your throat to finally catch to his release. You still moaning, you decided to push the beauty under you over the edge by removing your glistening hand from you to his balls. With a loud "fuck" Yeonjun's cum was running down your throat and you gulping down every last bit.

You lift yourself up kneeling in front of the man catching your breathe. You stare at his sweaty face, smiling to yourself you lean in to kiss him. "Now lets get this designer outfit off you hmm?" Slowly but surely you undress Yeonjun revealing his lovely toned body. Not able to control yourself, you drag your hands on his abs delighted by the soft skin. Yeonjun smirks at your entranced state, "Bend over and let me see your ass, love." You obey his command, you twist on your knees turning away, grabbing a throw pillow to relax your elbows on.

Yeonjun changes positions kneeling in between your legs getting a handful of your plush ass. Tilting his head to the side as he sighs at how ravenous you looked, with one hand he slides his fingers within your slit then into your hole, "damn you're wet." Face already shoved in the pillow your whines were muffled. Yeonjun's free hand scavenges in his abandoned blazer looking for a condom. The plastic materiel gets into his reach, he puts it into his mouth biting it then rips it open. You let out a bratty cry when Yeonjun removes his fingers to apply the condom. "Don't worry, love, you're going to get what you want."

You look over your shoulder with plead in your eyes. Yeonjun lays his torso on your back kissing your shoulder as he rubs his cock among your glistening folds.

"Ready?"

"Yes god jjun just do i-"

You choke on your sentence when Yeonjun slams his dick into you, pushing your body forward into the pillow. Both of you pushed into delirium by the delicious feeling. Jolted moans escape your mouth going with the pace of Yeonjun's thrusts. You look back at him seeing his sinful concentration. "S-so good ah-" you try to praise but the feeling of his tip hitting that sweet spot had your back arching. Flames burning your core at the intense drive, walls begin to clench hard around Yeonjun. He huffs at the tightness, bending down again planting kisses and reaching around your hips to rub your clit.

Screaming and bending your back even more, pleasure was too sweet. "I-im mmm going to c-umm" you slur your words, it was out of your best effort. Yeonjun was close too, working hard through your tight walls he was determined to make you cum the same time as him. A long drawn out moan escapes your pretty pink lips, your high washes over you dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun finally cums gasping for air, pulling out to remove the uncomfortable wrapping.

With the energy you had left, you move to your side leaving room for the man to fit snug beside you. Noses touching, soft kisses, you both giggle at the euphoric moment of having sex in Paris.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

Red Lace

stan bowes x fem!reader

song i recommend listening to: yayo by lana del rey

warnings: sugar daddy stan, smut, fingering, blowjobs, riding, car sex, squirting

word count: 1.4k

notes: guys im sorry my smuts are kinda bad🙁 ITS SO HARD TO WRITE AND FOR WHAT LIKE but here ya go! i love a good sugar daddy stan moment. sorry for ooc imma be so real with yall i didnt even watch pose. I JUST SEEN CLIPS OF STAN STOP LEAVE ME ALONE

MDNI 18+

You don't understand why Mr. Bowes insists on buying you things.

Thanks to his pay raise, you've got too much cash to spend on yourself already. You've upgraded your apartment, bought a new car, and now you shop at Whole Foods.

But this? This seems like a bit much.

"Mr. Bowes, I really don't ne—"

"And you expect me to allow you to walk home by yourself at this time of night?" He raises an eyebrow, his pale skin in stark contrast to the black leather of the limousine. Adjusting the cuff of his black suit jacket, he drawls, "Please, I insist."

You sigh, and yet you step into the limo anyway.

You feel out of place with the fancy wine glasses, smooth jazz, glossy white exoskeleton and soft red interior lighting. The partition is rolled high and you can't escape the feeling that this is private.

"Your address, Ms. Y/N?"

"Oh, right um," you hate to say you were too enamoured by all the glitter and glam that it takes you a second to come back down to earth to provide him with the proper info. Mr. Bowes raps against the partition with a fingernail, mumbling what you assume to be your address to the driver before it raises and you two are alone again.

"So, Ms. Y/N," Mr. Bowes begins. Despite all the space in the long limousine, he's sat right next to you, shoulders brushing and all. "How was lunch?"

Right. Lunch. Today, you arrived to the office with your lunch from home in hand, to find an even better one sitting on your desk with a note that read:

Eat up, Sweetheart.

— S. B.

Seriously. Is your boss trying to kill you?

But, you ate it. And it was delicious.

"It—It was good."

And, fuck. You're not one to stutter but thinking straight proves harder than you thought under Mr. Bowe's heavy gaze.

Mr. Bowes crowds you against the door and his cologne is beyond overwhelming, flooding your senses and setting your veins alight as he slides a calloused hand up your thigh, pushing your pencil skirt out of the way as he rubs up your thigh. He knows he can get away with it.

"And the outfit?"

"It uhm...fits fine."

And Mr. Bowes always finds the perfect size, too. Honestly, you're impressed—half of the time you can't find your size yourself.

Mr. Bowes hums in satisfaction, a hand sliding to play with the lace that falls over the crest of your ass. You know he likes to see you squirm and stutter blush. And yet here you are, eating it up like some slutty secretary.

"Are you wearing it right now, Princess?"

Mr. Bowes speaks like he knows, and you find your face turning a similar fiery red to the lingerie set you have on underneath your outfit.

"I am."

Mr. Bowes's eyes flutter and you swear his grip around your ass tightens, but it's gone before you blink again. A groan rolls through his chest.

"Show me, Princess."

Your eye shifts to the limousine window. You're on the highway, but you haven't got an idea to when you'll reach your apartment. "Mr. Bowes, I—"

"Stan when we're alone, Gorgeous."

"Stan, what if someone—"

"It's dark and the windows are tinted," Stan cages you in with a forearm against the door, leaning over so his mouth is leveled with your ear. "You and I both know you live a little ways away from headquarters, so what's the wait?"

You...You...

You don't know.

You find your mouth moving before you think it through, "What do you wanna see first?"

"You know me so well, Princess," Stan purrs, biting his bottom lip as his eyelids sink halfway, studying you. After a still silence, Stan speaks again.

"Take off your shirt."

You shiver.

Button by button, your fingers pull at the fabric of your shirt until the lacy red bra Stan left on your desk is on full display.

Stan groans at the view, head dipping down to press butterfly kisses to your breasts. The warmth of his palms feels strange through the lace but the thumb passing over your nipple has you shivering nonetheless.

"On your knees, Princess," a pretty pink tongue emerges to wet his bottom lip. "I want to cum on those pretty tits of yours."

Your hands are fluent and swift, from undoing his button and zipper to unbuckling his belt, and your face to face with your boss' hard cock bobbing underneath the tip of your nose.

"Suck, Pretty."

Grabbing the base of his cock, you lick from his balls to the tip, giggling at Stan's shudder.

"What, Princess? It's not my fault your mouth is sinful."

To prove his point, and to prove who's in charge, Stan bucks down your throat. It makes you choke and splutter, but you push through the spasms in your throat anyway, pulling a fairly juvenile broken moan from the billionaire's mouth.

"Such a dedicated little girl." Stan groans, gently threading his hands through your hair to grab you tight by the roots. "I bet you're soaking wet in between those legs, aren't you?"

You whimper, subtly rubbing your thighs together—you wouldn't be surprised if you left a wet spot on the floor. Your cheeks burn from the humiliating thought.

"Up."

You pull your mouth off of him, a little confused.

"Change of plans, Princess," Stan pants, lifting you by the waist and sitting you in his lap. After pulling the tight black pencil skirt above your ass, Stan bites his lip at the sight of you.

"So gorgeous," he moans, trailing a finger up your slit. "And so wet. Did I do all this, Princess?"

You slap him on the shoulder in mild embarrassment, cheeks and neck burning. Grinding your hips in his lap, you roll your eyes. "Stan, just fuck m—"

He grabs you roughly by the jaw, chuckling at the way your pretty little eyes burst into the size of saucers, "I believe I asked you a question."

"Yes," you whimper, caught off guard. Stan's grip tightens.

"Yes what?"

"Y-Yes Sir."

Stan bites his lip at the pet name, using the grip he has on your jaw to shake your head back and forth as he coos, "Good girl."

Peeling your panties to the side, the big hands on your waist guide you onto his cock. The slide is smoother than it should be, and Stan's buried in your pussy fairly quickly.

"Grind on me, Princess." Stan bucks his hips to spur you on, and you're moving the moment you pull his dress shirt into a tight little fist. Stan's always been big, but inside you? It can get a little hard to breath.

Stan's thumb ghosts your clit and it has you shivering, drunk off his slow in sensual pace.

"Hmm, you're drooling Pri—fuck!"

There's a bump in the road and it sends your pupils flying into the back of your skull, and the broken moan that tumbles out of Stan's mouth makes you want to hear more.

Bracing your knees against the plush limousine cushion, you maintain the momentum and drop yourself onto his cock so rapidly you're sure the driver can hear the slap of skin through the partition. Stan's eyes widen before his eyelids drop halfway, mesmerized by the slow but hard movements of your hips.

"Shit—c-careful, Princess," Stan puts his hands around your waist in an attempt to gain control of the speed, but you quickly swat his hands away.

"I wanna," you pant, whimpering as he hits your cervix when the limo jolts again. "I wanna make you feel good. A-As 'sa thank you."

"Awe baby," Stan coos, applying more pressure to your clit. You squeak, readjusting your grip on his shoulders, "For the outfit I gave you? When I saw it in the store I knew it'd look gorgeous—and look at you, so fucking delicious."

To reinforce his comment, Stan digs his teeth into your neck, and that's your tipping point—eyes fluttering, your toes curl and you're squirting in Stan's lap; making a mess of his cock and his (probably expensive) suit pants.

"Oh shit—" Stan lets out a guttural moan and he's filling you up, hips stuttering and eyelids flickering. His chest rises and collapses with an airy moan.

"Fuck, Princess," Stan chuckles breathily, resting his head against the limousine seat. His face is pretty and flushed red, hair stiff with sweat and dress shirt a wrinkled mess.

The limousine rolls to a stop, the smooth motion pulling your attention to the window. As you peer out, your brows knit in confusion. This isn’t your apartment building. Instead, the limo is parked in front of a grand, imposing house. One you don’t recognize but assume must belong to Stan. Its tall windows glow with soft, inviting light, the front door just beyond a well-manicured garden.

Your gaze flicks back to Stan, his casual posture in contrast to the subtle tension in the air. He catches your eye, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, his voice low and smooth.

“Care for a quick detour, Princess?”

[shushposting]

I can be your Prince or I can be your Dragon

Possessive Full Demon Form Vox, intersex Val, toxic relationships because Vox and Val being Vox and Val, they’re so codependent it's disgusting can you have make up sex and hate sex at the same time? Yeah kind of.

Valentino stays gone too long after a fight, Vox doesn’t handle it well

It’s a dance at this point, well practiced and predictable. They fight, they break apart, they fuck, and the broken pieces fit back together. It didn’t matter how many times they stormed out they always always came back.

But even the most practiced dances stumble sometimes, right?

Valentino had walked out of the Vees tower two weeks ago. The longest he's ever stayed away in all their years of euphoric highs and sickening lows. Any attempt Vox made to contact him was ignored. Texts left on read, calls dumped to Vmail, assistants baring messages and gifts shot and left wherever they crumpled. That was the first week and by the tenth day, the texts and calls stopped.

After that, it got more drastic. TVs in the hotels he stayed or in window displays where Valentino walked on the streets burst. Voxtek appliances shorted and sparked or just combusted once he touched them. Lights shattered in his clubs, showering him with sparks and colored glass.

The moth’s last frayed nerve snapped when the next casualty was his phone. He'd only glanced at a text from Velvette that he needed to haul ass back home before every contact and app changed to Vox's speed dial.

Vox vox voxxy V̸̨̊o̶̺͛ ̴̀ͅxv̴̎͜o̸̰̐x̵̢̚x̶̡̒v̴̙̕oVox ̷̬́x̸̪̊ẍ̵͎v̷̱̍ȏ̶̧x̶̄͜Y̴̞̚v̸̟̓Ǒ̸͎X̴̞̍V̸̄͜ö̸̟́X̴̫̀vXY̸͌ͅo̵͖̓Ơ̶̯0̴̡͂0̸͕͘x̶̉͜

The thing rapidly heated and glitched in his hand until the screen cracked. He'd just barely managed to throw it down before it shattered apart with a sharp pop!

Under threat of being sent back to the goddamn stone age Valentino finally relents, he tells Dia to call his car for him and thankfully she's able to do it with minimal static and sparking around the phone. The car was suspiciously close, too close for it to not have been waiting on standby for him. It's not his usual driver who opens the door for him, it's Vox's and he's not asked where it is he wants to go. He swears he sees Vox's eye staring at him in the driver's V-Watch through the partition the whole way back to the tower.

The walk to the media overlord's surveillance room is.. honestly a shitshow. Vox's area of the tower was always pristine, sleek, and perfect. Now it looks like a war zone, with pieces of employees and debris scattered along the floor. Lights hang from their fixtures in ugly wirey tangles, ceiling tiles broken on the floor, elevator doors stand jarred between floors, doors not able to close properly and ding obnoxiously. One shudders to life and opens for him, the light overhead indicating the destination was Vox's lair.

It's not a smooth ride but it doesn't drop him to a temporary death either. Small mercies. It does leave him though, the second he steps into Vox's private space the thing slams shut behind him and groans back up the chute, stranding him.

Wires and cables writhe like snakes along the floor, the ceiling, and walls; all feeding back to the bank of monitors. Vox's highbacked chair was in a gnarled heap, torn from where it had been fastened to the floor, more wires coming up from the hole it had left. The TV demon himself hung in front of the screens, the cables connected to his body holding him aloft like a puppet. Or maybe he was just standing. It was hard to tell with Vox's disjointed limbs, too-long cables and wires lengthening his joints like some grotesque doll. And he said Val was theatric.

Valentino's own reflection looks out from the screens. Recordings and still shots of him over the last two weeks cover every monitor. In his clubs, hotels, the street, looking up at him from his phone before the damn thing detonated. Right in front, the one Vox was fixated on, was the live feed of him standing there in the here and now.

"And you get mad at me for wrecking shit?" Val says to his partner's back- might as well get this shit started "I take a siesta and you trash the whole tower while I'm out."

"G⦻N3" The glitched snarl seemingly comes from everywhere as the screens go red, Vox's black-ringed hypnotic stare broadcast across each one, glaring down at him "Not 'out'. You were gone."

A sneer pulls Valentino's upper lip off his teeth "Oh excuse me, I didn't know I had a fucking curfew."

"Two weeks" In a surging wave of sparking cables Vox is in his face, bodily slamming him against the wall.

"Ow- Goddammit, Vox-"

"You left me." Vox's claws fist into the ruff around his partner's neck as wires wrap painfully around him, sparks of electricity singing the fur. "For two weeks. You. Left. Me."

"Oh poor fucking baby," Valentino growls through a mocking grin, sucking in the electrical smoke and hissing it back out red and thick, cocooning around them as his body threatens to change, to grow monstrous in the face of Vox's own more demonic form even if it makes the wires cut into his skin.

They snarl and growl in static glitches and insectoid chirps, pushing and pulling at each other with too-sharp claws. Val's teeth grow in his mouth, snapping loud in front of Vox's screen when the hypnotic stare tries too obviously to catch his eye.

"You want to bite me? Here-" Vox's throat is suddenly right in his face, synthetic skin pressing against sharp dripping fangs. The hold feels suspiciously like a hug, cradling the back of Valentino's head as he tucks him into the crook of his neck, offering to let him bite and rip. "-bite. I don't give a fuck if we're fighting. Scream. Cuss me out. Hit me. Level this goddamn tower to a parking lot, Valentino I. Don't. Care. But you will fucking come home when I call you."

And fuck if that horrible- pathetic- declaration doesn't have Valentino's hips rolling up against Vox's leg where it pins him between his legs and takes the invitation to break skin under his teeth. "You miss me that bad, Papi?"

Vox's groan is miserable and angry, the cables writhing and tightening around Valentino's limbs, but he grinds his own aggression-hardened cock down to meet his partner's rolling. "You're not supposed to stay gone."

Electricity crawls across his skin as he lets go of Valentino's neck fluff to forcefully lace their hands together. The moth retaliates against the shocks by moving to the TV demon's shoulder and sinking his teeth in there too. Their hips slot together, rocking their cocks against each other, Valentino's pink-tinged slick dampening the panties under his short dress and the front of Vox's slacks. Finally back in step with their dance.

"We have a goddamn deal, Val." The surging electricity burns them both, smoke wafting off Valentino's fur and from Vox's overloaded processors. Burns down their arms, raising lighting-shaped marks to their joined hands where rings manifest around their fingers, the delicate chain joining them unseen between their clasped palms. "We don't leave each other. You don't leave me."

Valentino laughs bratty and condescending, breathing more red into the air around them, "Maybe if you reminded me more often why I shouldn't then I wouldn't have to take a two-week vacation fucking and getting fucked like I deserve. You've not really been acting like my prince have you? I thought I was supposed to be your Princesa?"

The eyes watching him from all over the room spark and glare and threaten to drip digital tears. His poor, hopeless little Voxxy. His ingrained 1950s ego was too fragile to even insinuate he wasn't doing enough, wasn't The Man, wasn't the steadfast and proper provider. That he was failing as a lover. Vox's screen flashes lines of rainbow before going blue, white text typing out frantically

Mine. Mine minemiN3youucaN'+1eavemme3y0u're MmineCaNT13avemem1n3on1ymine

Vox tears through his fishnets and raises bloody lines on his thigh as he pulls Valentino's leg up to hook over his hip. The cables tighten and yank sharply, taking them down to the floor. He's not easy either when he goes up under the tight little skirt, blindly slitting the soaked panties straight down the middle, not minding whether or not he nicks his partner. The grinding, insectoid hiss tells him he must have and the thick cherry scent of Valentino's pheromones flooding the air tells him he liked it.

Finally, some attention. The moth rolls his hips against the sharp points making them slide and rub over his cunt, teasing himself as an obscene gush of candy pink slick coats the media overlord’s fingers and drips down his wrist. "Come on, Papi. I'm yours? Show me."

Vox's digital face loads back in sharp and snarling, bringing the fingers to his mouth, licking his fingers clean before grabbing Valentino by the jaw and spitting it back into his panting mouth "You taste like a whore, Princess."

He snaps his belt at the buckle, not bothering to try and undo it before tearing his zipper down. He doesn't tease or let his tip kiss up sweet and slow like he has for decades when they come back together and he's winning his princess back. The push is sharp and faster than either of them are ready for, fucking like they fought, full of snapping teeth and cutting claws. The media overlord is ruthless, thrusting hard enough that they slide across the floor. Valentino tears a bloody wrist out of the wires to press above them to keep his head from knocking against the wall, stilettos slipping loudly as he digs his heels into the polished floor trying to give just as good as he got.

"I'm going to kill every worthless nobody you let touch you." His voice crackles over the wet sound of driving himself into the moth's cunt, "Your pussy is mine. I don't give a fuck who you let suck you off or how many whores you stick your dick in. But this-" Two fingers slip in beside his cock, "is mine. Nobody else fucks you. I'm going to start hanging them flayed in the streets, do you understand me?"

Long tongue swiping at the drool and blood painting his lips Valentino arches up with a chuckling moan, gushing and dripping around Vox's cock. "Mmhm, medieval. My Prince knows how to make my heart flutter."

"Maybe I'm done being a prince." Vox leans all his weight into the hand laced with Valentino's with a static rumble, hilting hard until he can see the outline of himself through Valentino's belly with each deep stroke, "Maybe I need to be a dragon and keep my princess in his tower where he belongs. Keep you tied up in silks and jewelry until I get home and I can show you you're mine over and over and over. How many times do you think I would have to write 'mine' with my tongue inside you before you came?"

"Oh fuck- Vox"

"If that doesn't work I'm sure I can make a lock strong enough. Whatever it takes. What about this Val? Would this keep you?” There’s a whirr and a vibration pulses from his cock.

Valentino wails, hand leaving the wall and flying to the vibrating bump buried in his guts, feeling like it was jarring down to his bones and he gushes. “Vox Vo- Papi, please fuck”

“Say you’re mine, Val.” Vox growls, hips snapping faster, the hand tucked in beside his cock slipping out to hold him by the neck. “Tell me you know you’re mine.”

“Yours, Vox. Ah-always yours- only yours”

He pulls Valentino into a kiss by the throat, and they rut like that, rocking and shouting around each other’s tongue until the vibrations pushed them over the cathartic edge of orgasm.

The cables don’t loosen. Vox’s body doesn’t return to form.

“Val.” Static laced lips rub softly across the moth’s “If you ever leave me like that again I’m dragging you back to this tower and I’m chaining you to it.”

Valentino only laughs, long tongue dragging across the screen. “Wear the dragon attachment and it’s a date.”

.

[emilysholster]

Lipstick (David Rossi x Wife!Reader)

Summary: you and David can’t stay off of each other during the car ride to an event

Warnings: NSFW, handjob, finger fucking, semi-public (car with a driver), dirty talk (with slight degrading), competitive (?), (fem!reader)

Translations: dolcezza (honey)

A/N: short fic loosely inspired by Beyoncé’s Partition

You stood in front of the mirror and admired your reflection. The jewel-toned dress you were wearing was floor length with a slit and fit your form perfectly. Your husband was being honoured at a gala tonight recognizing his and others’ contributions to criminology, and as his wife you wanted to ensure you looked the part.

You put on your diamond studs before heading downstairs to where David was pouring both of you champagne. He was dressed in a dark suit, his tie and handkerchief matching your dress. You could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing, the scent enveloping you as you approached him.

“There she is,” he grinned as he handed you a glass. “You are just stunning, Mrs. Rossi.”

David used a hand to spin you around as you giggled, admiring every angle of your form. He pulled you in close, about to press his lips to yours before you turned away.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted. “You are not smudging my lipstick tonight, Dave. Not when all of those important people are going to be at this gala.”

You pulled yourself away from his grip, much to his disappointment. Soon enough, the honk of the driver sounded from outside. The two of you headed out, where the driver was holding the door open for the two of you.

The gala was taking place at a fancy hotel downtown that was a bit of a drive from your secluded home. The view out the window was scenic, and the driver turned the radio up so that the car was filled with soft music.

You sighed softly as David pressed a kiss into your hair. You felt his mouth moving lower, working its way towards your neck as his hand reached up and caressed your breasts.

“David,” you warned.

“Well I’m not smudging your lipstick, am I?” He asked playfully.

“You know, it took me over an hour to get- oh,” you gasped softly when his mouth reached your neck, softly sucking at the sensitive skin.

“It’s not my fault, dolcezza.” David said against your skin, inhaling the scent of your perfume. “You look too beautiful not to touch.”

Your resolve was breaking quickly, especially since his hand was making its way up your leg through the slit of your dress. Blood rushed to your face when you heard the sound of the partition rolling up, realizing the driver was giving the two of you some privacy.

You bit back a moan when David slid your panties aside and began circling your clit with his fingers, making you squirm in your seat. “Don’t let the driver hear you,” he teased.

You could tell he was delighted at your predicament and you decided then that you wouldn’t be the only one coming undone in this car.

You reached towards his lap, to his surprise, and made quick work of unbuckling his belt. “What’re you-” David started, his fingers slowing their ministrations. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from moaning when you took his cock into your hand. You gave it a few strokes as it hardened, using your thumb to spread his precum over the tip. “Don’t let the driver hear you,” you smirked.

You began rhythmically pumping his cock in your hand, enjoying how much David had to restrain himself. He caught the glint in your eye and began circling your clit again, eager to see you come before he did.

“F-fuck,” you hissed as he teased your entrance before plunging in. You panted softly as David fucked you with his fingers, desperately trying not to make any incriminating sounds.

Wanting to win, you retaliated by quickening the pace of your strokes, feeling his cock begin to pulse in your hand.

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N, but you’re going to come on my fingers regardless.” David panted lowly into your ear while his thumb began circling your clit. “And in the back seat of a car too. You’re such a slut for me, sweetheart.”

It was a last ditch effort, knowing how his words would affect you. Fortunately for him, he was right, and he watched smugly as you came around his fingers.

Lost in pleasure, you met David’s lips with yours in a needy kiss. Both of you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth, just as you felt his cock twitch in your hand before he came. David groaned into your mouth as his cock oozed out cum, his hand gripping onto you tightly.

Pulling away, you quickly took his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to clean yourselves off as best you could. As David buckled his belt, you opened your phone’s camera and were surprised to find your lipstick mostly intact. Aside from a slightly damp forehead and a few flyaway hairs, your appearance didn’t give much away.

“See, I didn’t smudge it.” David winked at you, making you laugh. “I guess not.”

The car rolled to a stop and you looked out the window to see you’d arrived. The driver came around to open the door, and David got out before offering his hand to you.

You thanked the driver, who avoided eye contact with either of you. You and David tried not to laugh as you walked up the steps to the hotel, arm in arm.

“Room 1203,” he said suddenly. You looked up at him, curious.

David leaned in close just as you reached the hotel doors. “That’s where I’ll be doing more than just smudging your lipstick later tonight.”

[thatmagickjuju]

author's note: fem!reader x James Valdez ... holy shit, this was written AGES ago and posted on my AO3. i decided maybe it's time to post it to tumblr to sprinkle a little of my own love for james valdez around. i currently do not take requests, so please do not send any. minors do not interact! i will block you. additionally, i do not consent to my work being taken/reposted, plagiarized, or translated without my permission.

disclaimer: i don't write x reader POV like most. i still use third person with 'y/n' inserts. it is my preferred way of writing.

request: a one shot for james valdez inspired by the song partition by beyonce?

warnings: unprotected PinV sex, male receiving.

Red matte lips matched manicured nails, matching red bottom Louboutin heels strapped tightly against her ankle. The form-fitted dress hugged all the right places, giving off a vibe unlike any other. She felt gorgeous in it - sexy even, and she knew as soon as James saw her, he’d have to control himself from skipping the event altogether for a steamy night in. Forty-five minutes to get all dressed up; Y/N wasn’t going to allow James to ruin the outfit just yet.

“Y/N, we’re gonna be late! Hurry up.” 

Rolling her eyes to his pleas, she fluffed her hair one last time before smiling back at her reflection, loving the image staring back at her. 

Finally, Y/N opened the door, spotting her beloved, James Valdez, on the bed in his infamous black suit. She silently cursed him. He knew very well what the suit did to her, the many enjoyable memories involving the outfit suddenly poured into her mind like a tipped-over tea kettle. 

“This," she began, showcasing herself, "takes time.” Y/N gave a quick spin, allowing the man to get a 360 view.

James’s eyes lit up, immediately darkening from the nasty thoughts and images flashing through his head. “Damn baby,” he mumbled under his breath, getting to his feet.

“Don’t get any bright ideas tough guy,” she warned, holding an authoritative finger to stop him.

“You can’t come out of the bathroom looking sexy as all hell and not expect me to try and get one in before we leave.” His hands found their way to her hips, bringing her into his chest.

“You can try but you’ll be horribly rejected.” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her painted lips as she slithered out of his grasp, reaching for the door. “Now come, we’re going to be late.” An audible defeated sigh was heard from James, following closely behind her. 

The hotel they were staying in was quiet and Y/N could almost hear the wheels churning in James’ head. Their mission was to infiltrate their target’s house, weaving their way through the home to retrieve a rare, ancient, expensive - worth millions - artifact. No questions were asked as to why the artifact was important; the dollar amount was the reward sparking the duo’s interest. One hundred million dollars was the asking price to fetch said artifact with the promise of a challenging retrieval. However, for that amount of money, Y/N and James were willing to jump into shark-infested waters.

The duo worked tirelessly on a plan consisting of contingency plans A, B, and C. Finally, they were able to find the perfect opportunity to conduct the mission and get their money.

Outside the expensive hotel waited a white limo where they planned to arrive at the party in style. Others will stare with puzzled glances for a chance to recognize the new faces attending the gathering while the duo walked through the crowd as if they owned the place. It wasn’t their first rodeo - surely wasn’t going to be their last. 

Settling into the limo, Y/N sat comfortably as James poured himself a glass of champagne. “One turns into half the bottle; don’t go and get all tipsy on me. You need to be sharp for this to work. We only get one shot.”

“Relax, Y/N. We’ve done how many jobs by now? I know my limits. You, on the other hand, need a glass to release the tension in those shoulders.”

“My shoulders are fine,” Y/N assured him, her voice dripping with annoyance. “But thank you for your concern,” she snarkily added.

Unamused by her demeanor, James set the glass down and moved until he was next to her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he leaned in, his lips barely touching her earlobe. “I know a way to relieve that tension,” he suggested as his other hand caressed her knee, inching its way up to her thigh. 

“Don’t be slick,” she warned, keeping her gaze forward and arms folded across her chest. Despite her verbal rejection, her body reacted the opposite. A thin line of goosebumps trailed along with his fingertips and a shiver shook her spine from the breath against her neck.

“I’m not being slick,” he defended. “But I know something already is.” 

Y/N hated how well he knew her body. Her core was throbbing simply from the gentle touch of his hands gliding along her skin from her inner thigh to her knee and back. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. James’ breath caressed her neck once again with a destructive force.

“James, this dress was over a thousand dollars and my makeup is worth more than your watch. You mess them up, I mess you up,” she growled, tilting her head, and exposing her neck.

“You act like this is the first time we’ve fucked in a limo.” He had a point and made his point by rubbing his fingers against her soaked laced panties.

“I hate the effect you have on me,” Y/N gasped, giving in to her partner’s seduction.

“Lying will get you nowhere.” Catching her lips in his, James pulled Y/N onto his lap, placing his hands on either side of her face. Her kisses were infectious - like eating the world’s greatest pastry, one is never enough. It had always been that way with the duo since they met in the military. 

Y/N removed her Louboutin heels, tossing them to the other seat before settling into James’s lap. Lucky for her she chose a dress that hugged her chest and midriff but felt loose around the hips and waist.

James’s hands fell from her face to her hips, helping as she rocked herself on his generous bulge. Y/N could feel him throbbing for her just as much as she was wet for him. It’s like they were in perfect sync no matter what they were doing. Even that thought made Y/N quiver … or was it James’s teeth lightly nibbling on her breast?

“The partition is down,” Y/N whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. James moved his gaze to find she was right, and he locked eyes with the driver. 

“Driver, roll up the partition please,” James called out without stopping his tease. Almost instantly they heard the thick glass screen close, giving them the privacy needed to continue their play.

Reaching between her legs, James moved her underwear aside, sliding two digits into her soaked folds. He could feel her breathing quicken and her legs begin to shiver merely by his touch. “Oh baby, you make me weak,” she whispered, bucking her hips to move against his fingers. James smiled at this, using his free hand to help guide her down onto his fingers. He loved watching her take control, doing the work to get herself off. The way her eyes would flutter shut right before she’d let out a moan caused his member to ache. He wanted her … bad. But he knew to take his time and be patient with her.

Moving herself off him, Y/N moved so she was between James, comfortably on her knees. Hands ran down his chest, stopping on his belt. He took this as a cue and helped remove the belt, unfastening the button. With a devilish grin, Y/N pulled open his pants releasing his cock. There was no hesitation in her movements as she pushed herself forward, slowly running her tongue from the base to the tip, lapping up the pre-cum. 

James let out a sigh, his head falling back onto the seat with his eyes closed. The feel of her tongue wrapped around his dick was a feeling he’d never get used to but welcomed every chance he could. Y/N was the first to ever fully want to give him head without asking for it; mostly because she thoroughly enjoyed feeling him squirm and shake under her. She liked having control and used it to her advantage. 

“Y/N, fuck. I’m gonna come.” Lifting herself up, Y/N climbed on James’s lap, straddling him. Almost as if reading her mind, James moved her panties to the side, allowing her to slip onto him with ease. Rolling her hips forward, Y/N held onto his shoulders for support, her forehead resting against his. She started off slow, getting into her rhythm before feeling James raise his hips, yearning to be deeper.

Y/N quickened her pace, the sensation building inside pulling moans and gasps from her lips. Her mind had become so enraptured, that other sounds or distractions had been cut off from reaching her. James’s thumb rubbed against her clit in rhythmic movement while she rode his cock like it was the last time she’d ever receive it. 

“I’m going to fucking come,” James grunted out between thrusts, the feeling of his hard cock pushing at her walls making her groans match his. “I can’t hold it anymore.” Y/N watched as James’s face contorted and she felt his cock twitch inside as he came, sending her over the brink along with him. Both moaned the other’s names as they released, tingles pricking at her skin.

With their breaths increased, Y/N looked out the window realizing their limo had arrived at the party. “Shit. Get your shit together,” she commanded, grabbing her shoes.

[valscigarette]

Lonely Exile (Innovation!AU)

Adam’s first two weeks in Hell involve getting murdered at least once a day. All the sinners seem to recognize him before he opens his mouth, despite his body morphing into a frightening goat-like frame- no different than any other ugly son of a bitch down here. He shouldn’t be in Hell to begin with, but the constant death is getting old. It’s not fucking scary anymore; just exhausting.

From time to time, he’s noticed Voxtek branded cameras swivel to watch him as he dies, but it doesn’t register as important until he comes to for the umpteenth time, covered in his own blood, and feeling like he’s been run over by a bus, in front of an open limousine door. “What the fuck?” he coughs, spitting out a tooth in the process. He’s pretty sure it’ll grow back. “Who’re you?”

“Courtesy of Voxtek,” blares a speaker laid into the door.

“I didn’t order- you know what?”

Adam effortfully pulls himself into the limo.

“Fuck it, I deserve a ride. Where’re we going?”

A frog demon he hadn’t noticed shuts the door for him and slides into the front seat without a word. The partition between them leaves Adam alone in the spacious backseat, which, as he surveys it, he finds stocked with various drugs and snacks.

“This is more like it,” he declares. So far, he’s spent too much time dead to really enjoy the pleasures Pentagram City offers. “Finally, someone recognizes my worth.”

His first taste of Beelzejuice is decadent, more so because he’s so dehydrated his tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. Then he stuffs his pockets and cheeks with as much candy as he can fit, washing the taste down with more booze and finding extra places to stash the shooters he found in the cooler. It’ll come in handy later; Adam hasn’t had the chance yet to figure out getting a job and making money.

The limo screeches to a stop less than ten minutes after picking Adam up. His silent driver opens the door for him at a red carpet, though it’s empty of the clamoring press Adam would’ve expected from such an ostentatious entrance. Slowly, he follows the carpet to the grand double glass doors of the tallest tower in town. Dozens of stories up, the sign glares neon into the night: Vee Industries. Adam shrugs and walks up to the front door.

Vox, the flat-faced television is waiting for him in the lobby with a megawatt grin. “Adam! The original sinner, what a pleasure! Vox, CEO of Voxtek.”

He extends one hand, the other crossed demurely behind his back. Adam stares at it a moment, considering, before he takes it to give the firmest handshake of his afterlife; Vox doesn’t even twitch.

“I’m not the original sinner,” Adam gripes. “That’s Lucy, and it’s his fucking fault I’m down here.”

A glitch races across Vox’s face for a split second. “Of course. It is his fault, and that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Walk with me.”

Once their handshake ends, Vox slings his arm across Adam’s shoulders and leads him deeper into the tower.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

How Anti-Semitic Rhetoric Became Mainstream

Using anti-Semitic rhetoric, society historically accused Jews of being rich oppressors as well as leeches. Jews were rulers as well as disloyal agitators. Jews, they opined, are members of an inferior race; now, they are members of a privileged one.

Contemporary Jew-haters have similarly evolved in their use of anti-Semitic rhetoric. They have transformed what were once the sentiments of the radical fringe into the accepted stance of our current woke moralists. 

“Doublespeak” – the deliberate use of language to conceal or distort the truth, a concept made popular in George Orwell’s 1984 – is the main tool in the arsenal of today’s anti-Semites. Spouting the correct language, they have seamlessly transformed their expressions of unbridled, raw hatred into commendable academic jargon. Unfortunately, it is also pure anti-Semitic rhetoric.

“What is really important in the world of doublespeak is the ability to lie, whether knowingly or unconsciously, and to get away with it; and the ability to use lies and choose and shape facts selectively, blocking out those that don’t fit an agenda or program,” explains writer Edward S. Herman in his book Beyond Hypocrisy.

Phase I: “Zionism is Racism”

Post World War II, the anti-Semitic rhetoric shifted away from overtly anti-Jewish to a new concept, “anti-Zionist.” The murder of six million Jews in the Holocaust was a fresh memory. This made attacking Jews on the international stage less politically attractive.

While this didn’t stop powerful countries from closing their doors to Jewish refugees from Europe, it did change the discourse. Now, Jews were attacked by the declaration that “Zionism is racism.”

Where and how did this ruse begin? Not surprisingly, with the Soviets, world-class masters of doublespeak.

The USSR’s Campaign Against Israel

The 1917 revolutionary forces in the former USSR officially abolished the Czarists’ discriminatory policies against Jews. Yet, the reality of life for Jews under the Bolsheviks was one of state-enforced antisemitism and demonization.

Jews lived with quotas as well as outright rejection from universities. Many professions simply shut them out. When they did find employment, they faced glass ceilings, never able to progress to the highest levels.

Yet, surprisingly, when the state of Israel was created in 1948, “All international communist parties supported partition and the creation of a Jewish State,” documents Philip Mendes in Jews and the Left: The Rise and Fall of a Political Alliance.  

This included as well the U.S. Communist Party which called Israel “an organic part of the world struggle for peace and democracy. The French communists viewed the Israelis in solidary with “resistance” fighters throughout the world.

Why Soviet Support Changed

Immediately after Israel’s 1948 victory in the War of Independence, “Zionism was … celebrated by the left as an organic movement of national return and a model for national liberation and decolonization movements throughout the world,” writes Alex Rychin in “Red Terror: How the Soviet Union Shaped the Modern Anti-Zionist Discourse.”

“Israel’s victory in its War of Independence and refusal to succumb to far mightier foes was positively awe-inspiring to adherents of political movements predicated on toppling structures of power,” explains Rychin.

Ironically, it was the communists who understood Zionism for what it actually is. Namely, the return of the Jewish people to their indigenous homeland (“Zion” being one of Israel’s biblical names). Historically, the Jewish people are the only people in existence who have had a continuous presence and a claim to the land in what is now the state of Israel.

However, communist support for the nascent state of Israel waned quickly, not due to ideology but to politics. By the time the modern state of Israel was created, the Cold War between Russia and the United States had already begun. The two superpowers pitted against each other, each vying for world dominance, including in the Middle East.

Israel's Support for Democracy

By the early 1950s, when it became apparent that Israel was espousing Western democratic values and supporting America, the Soviets realized they needed to significantly downgrade Israel, if not entirely ostracize it in the eyes of the world. That's where the anti-Semitic rhetoric came into play.

As a first step, the Soviets began spewing and exporting rabid anti-Semitic rhetoric. Specifically, they embarked on an intense and concentrated campaign against the “Zionists.” Part of this campaign was the infamous 1953 “Doctors Plot.” There, the Soviet government levied false charges against prominent Jewish doctors. They accused them of planning to murder leading government and communist party officials.

“The propaganda was highly compelling and steeped in long-established [anti-Semitic] themes of Jewish bloodthirstiness, greed, corruption, manipulation and cunning. It would contend that the very existence of a Jewish homeland was not only a plot of imperialism, but a mortal danger to the peace of the world,” writes Rychin.

While Russia was busy introducing the term “anti-Zionist” into the global lexicon, most Americans were focused on the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement. Yet Soviet-supporting professors at top American universities were paying close attention. In truth, anti-Semitism had never been in short supply at these universities. Most of them had Jewish quotas of their own.

The UN Ruse

At the UN, the Soviets began employing an audacious strategy using anti-Semitic rhetoric against Israel learned. Although the Nazis were their arch enemies, the Soviets learned from none other than Adolf Hitler. In his 1925 book Mein Kampf, Hitler praises the efficacy of using the psychological technique known as the “Big Lie”-- essentially promoting a lie so big that no one would believe that anyone "could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously."

Rychin documents the fabrication of the “Big Lie” against Israel by the Soviets:

When a sub-commission of the United Nations was tasked with drafting a convention on the “elimination of all forms of racial discrimination,” the proceedings naturally focused on apartheid, neo-Nazism and antisemitism. But the Soviets viewed the reference to antisemitism as a direct rebuke to their anti-Jewish measures, and served up an amendment that “was almost a joke,” even to the Soviet delegation itself.

The amendment inserted Zionism into the listed forms of racism. According to sources close to the deliberations, the Soviets understood “full well that the idea that Zionism is racism is an indefensible position,” yet they floated it anyway, in part to turn the US-led initiative into farce, and in part perhaps, to see how far a “big lie,” could go.

Ultimately, the Convention was adopted with neither antisemitism nor Zionism referred to … But the seed had been planted.

On 10 November 1975, the General Assembly of the United Nations passed resolution 3379 on the “elimination of all forms of racial discrimination,” which determined that “Zionism is a form of racism and discrimination.”

The accusation stuck, and pro-Israel advocates are still fighting this absurd allegation.

Phase II: “Zionism is a settler-colonial white supremacist ideology”

Today, anti-Semites still use the “Zionism is racism” canard against Israel. But now, the anti-Semitic rhetoric comes with a litany of other “sins” – namely that Israel is a “settler-colonial white supremacist” state. In this context, its “racist” nature is simply a given.

What caused the switch in language? How does it benefit those who desire to bring down the only Jewish state in the world? 

“Coalition of the Oppressed”

Most Americans viewed the election of Barack Obama as president of the United States as a watershed moment. Finally, the country thought, the era of post-racism had arrived. The fight for racial equality began with the freeing of the slaves. It was codified into law through the 1968 Civil Rights. Yet, it saw its ultimate expression in Obama’s election.

Most Americans thought that the era of post-racialism in America had finally arrived. Yet, Obama’s reaction to a number of pivotal moments in his presidency – the 2012 shooting of Trayvon Martin in Florida, the 2014 police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri (an event that sparked the Black Lives Movement) and the 1915 death of Freddie Gray while in police custody in Baltimore – proved otherwise.

With racial tensions flaring, the Obama years constituted the perfect atmosphere for the divisive concept of critical race theory to break through the walls of academia and find its expression in the streets of America.

By the end of Obama’s second term as president, a Rasmussen poll found that 60 percent of American voters thought race relations in the United States had worsened since President Obama’s election. A similar New York Times/CBS poll taken at the same time found that nearly 70 percent of Americans thought race relations in America were bad. This represented a level unseen since the 1992 Rodney King riots.

Critical race theory’s charge that America is a “systemically racist” country was powerful. Yet, those in Obama’s camp who were forward thinking knew that this grievance alone would not be enough to sustain their power base over time. Obama also recognized the limitations of this charge.

Identity Politics and Anti-Semitic Rhetoric

It was thus during his second term that Obama embraced the concept of identity politics. He began to push the idea of a “coalition of the oppressed.” The coalition included blacks, women (feminists), Hispanics, Muslims, indigenous and other “brown” people as well as those identifying as gay, lesbian, trans and a myriad of other emerging sexual identities – essentially all those granted victim status due to their oppression by the “Establishment.”

Jews were noticeably and pointedly not included.

In the 1960s, the “Establishment” was loosely defined as the structures of societal authority. By the early 21st century, those reviving the concept had a much more specific definition of their oppressors. Namely, “white supremacist colonial powers.” Those powers specifically included Jews, Zionists and Israelis, all of whom were now identified as white, European interlopers on land indigenous to “Palestinians” (a term previously used in common English to identify anyone living in British Mandate Palestine, Jews and Arabs alike).

Despite Sharia law’s treatment of gays, women and minorities, the coalition welcomed Islamist organizations. It did the same for radical Palestinian organizations, rebranding their violent tactics and support for terror conveniently as “resistance.”

Many of these organizations, such as Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), had already enjoyed victim status on college campuses. This was due to the successful mainstreaming of the “Zionism is racism” mantra, classic anti-Semitic rhetoric.

"Points of Unity"

When Nerdeen Kiswani, co-founder and former chair of New York City SJP (NYC SJP), began the radical Palestinian group Within Our Lifetime (WOL), it was with this broader “coalition of the oppressed” in mind. On a page titled “Points of Unity, “ WOL’s website reads,  

“We are anti-Zionists. Zionism is a settler-colonial white supremacist ideology built on the genocide and dispossession of the Palestinian people.”

On the same page, WOL pledges its allegiance to

“all oppressed nationality people in the United States and around the world to engage in all forms of struggle in pursuit of freedom.” 

One of WOL’s goals is to “Globalize the Intifada,” a strategy they employ to tie all “liberation” of “colonized and oppressed people” to persecution by the Jews – in WOL’s words, to “break free from the genocidal grip of U.S. imperialism and Zionism.” 

Neveen Ayesh: A Case Study

Ayesh is a millennial Palestinian-American activist working as the government relations coordinator for the Missouri branch of American Muslims for Palestine, an extremist anti-Israel organization with links to terror groups and terror financiers. The Anti-Defamation League has accused AMP of “provid[ing] a platform for anti-Semitism.”

She was active on Twitter between 2011-2017 when she was between 18- to 24-years old. There, she openly and unabashedly expressed her vitriolic hatred of Jews and spewed anti-Semitic rhetoric. A sample of her rage from that period includes the following tweets:

“#crimesworthyoftherope being a Jew" ( August 4, 2011)

“I want to set Israel on fire with my own hands & watch it burn to ashes along with every Israeli in it. Call it what you want to call it idc" (February 17, 2014)

“I should join al-Qassam [Hamas’ terrorist wing]. Be the first female to join their group lololol #IdLoveToThough." (August 2, 2014)

Ayesh is now a political ally of Congresswoman Cori Bush (D-MO) and co-hosted a fundraiser for her. She also has political aspirations of her own and has toned down her anti-Semitic rhetoric.

Re-branding Anti-Semitic Rhetoric

Canary Mission recently called out Bush for her relationship with Ayesh (whose antisemitism was widely known). In an attempt at damage control, Ayesh responded with a long tweet thread, essentially excusing her antisemitism by re-branding it in the “language of the oppressed.”

After acknowledging that she had said “horrible things” about Jews and assuring us that she is really “not that person,” she blamed her hatred on the “chaos” she claims is part of the Palestinian experience.

“Chaos,” she says, “that no one seemed to - and still does not - care about because we’re brown. Muslims and Christian’s alike but we’re brown and Palestinian Arab.”

Ayesh says that after moving to the United States and going to college, she “learned how to assign academic terminology to what I had witnessed, experienced, & continue to experience at home & abroad. I became able to speak from an analytical and informative aspect rather than an emotional one of rage …”

Namely, what Ayesh learned was how to use anti-Semitic rhetoric effectively. Now, she labels Israel a “settler-colonialist white supremacy” entity. From this perspective, it then becomes legitimate to advocate for Israel’s total destruction.

Agendas Over Facts

Increasingly, agendas are more important to our populace than facts. This makes language a powerful tool in the arsenal of anti-Semites. It is particularly dangerous when used by radical groups like the New York-based Within Our Lifetime (WOL). These groups have successfully used venomous rhetoric to inspire physical attacks on Jews.

Last year, WOL activists sent Jews in New York to hospitals through their violent attacks. The group’s aggressive campaigns have been linked to the dramatic increase of attacks on Jews in the wider New York population.

Through equally anti-Semitic and venomous rhetoric, campus groups like Students for Justice in Palestine have successfully created atmospheres at U.S. universities where Jews are not only pushed out of student leadership positions but where Jewish students at large no longer feel safe on campus.

Like their Soviet predecessors, today’s anti-Semites rely on the “Big Lie” to sell their wares. Unfortunately, they are being sold to increasingly uneducated and gullible consumers.   

[gottestod-writes]

Find the Word Tag Game

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag here.

My words: arm, subject, learn, incapable (couldn't find the last one)

New words: mother, green, fold

Tagging @kyofsonder @kirsten-is-writing @shabriri @squarebracket-trickster @spitefulbull @hallowedfury

Read on for the (arguably unedited) snippets

Arm

The final jury member arrived, a tad later than recommended. He was a small angel of a mouldy complexion who smelled like cigarettes. He sat down next to Lucifer, nodded at him, and immediately turned into immovable dust as everyone's attention was drawn to the beginning of the court proceedings. The side door was pulled open and gave way to Samael. He was tall with spider limbs, which he hid under a long-sleeved robe that could fit at least two of him. It did not have the intended inflating effect but made him look like a coat rack with back problems. The only impressive parts Lucifer could find on Samael were his condor wings, which he had spread to full size to grab the gallery’s attention and signify that the trial was about to begin. He seated himself on a cushioned chair on the side of the main floor, below the jury. For a moment, Lucifer believed to detect the odour of coal tar.

The judge, Orphiel, was to walk in next, an angel as wide as he was tall with long purple waves framing his bust. A murmur quieted to anticipation.

After taking his place between the eye window and the walnut desk, Orphiel spread his arms wide, saying, “Welcome, my highest Lord and Father, my esteemed Seraphim and Cherubim, my dear angels, on this blessed yet tragic day. Today, we meet to witness the kingdom of Heaven, represented by Samael, charging our defendant, Lilith, resident of Eden, with the treacherous crimes of disobedience to our Father and going against the grain of what she was created for."

Subject

Lucifer dropped the cube of clay onto the floor of the laboratory, and began unwrapping it. On the Father’s workbench was the torso of a woman: no head, no extremities, and entirely shaped of clay. Next to that sat a metal bowl with the rib in it, washed and white. Behind the glass partition, Raphaela was busy sewing Adam back up, blood splatters on her scrubs.

"Of course not, Father," Lucifer wondered why the Father was telling him this. Maybe because Lucifer had witnessed the first woman, Lilith. Maybe because there was nobody else to listen right now and Lucifer was, against his will, obligated to. He refrained from shaking his head: she was being replaced so fast. Of course, it made sense, now that she was gone, but the Father had not even referred to her by name as if she had been forgotten already.

"I'm making a new woman for Adam," the Father beamed, "but I had this brilliant idea: if I include part of him in her, she's gonna be tied to him. Not like that wretched failure I created last time." The Father spat a little while speaking, “Wasn’t she just the worst? Never met anyone this ungrateful, it wasn’t even funny anymore.”

But Lucifer's documents called for him, and he also had to handle the bill from the hardware store. It had to be logged to reimburse him which would be tricky since he had not necessarily chosen the cheapest option. Accounting would not be happy with him.

Just as he had settled back in at his desk, annoyed that he had accidentally removed his pen without checking which line it was pointing at, the red light lit up again.

"I also need flowers," the Father said. "And can you accompany Raphaela back out? She's done tidying up."

Adam on the operating table was stirring lightly. It had to be unpleasant to wake up with a missing rib. Lucifer was glad that fully-fledged angels like himself were not subjected to such arbitrary treatment.

Learn

“Cruel? Me?” she scoffed and pointed at her own chest, her dove wings flapping. “Again, Luci, I run a free clinic. Arguably, I’m the most caring angel in this ungrateful country. I’ve thought about closing it plenty of times, after all, it is charity-run, and the Cherubim and Seraphim aren’t as generous as they used to be.”

Lucifer raised his hands. He wanted to interrupt her, but she kept ranting and gesticulating.

“I’m basically running this on our Father’s and my money alone. Ordinary citizens almost never donate anything at all. And I’m the cruel one for expecting others to put in any effort at all? I offer my hand and they take my arm. I really should close the clinic, I’ve been too soft. Sarathielle keeps saying they need a new head for the military hospital unit, maybe I should do that and let the ingrates look after themselves.”

“I wasn’t blaming you,” Lucifer blurted out, not loudly but abruptly enough to make Raphaela stop.

She deflated and pressed her lips together. Around her jaw, the muscles were tensing and relaxing. One wing was still twitching.

“I don’t think it’s your personal responsibility,” he continued. “But I also don’t want to throw these angels to the wolves.”

Raphaela’s expression seemed frozen as she stared out the window into the sunset, “It’s all of our responsibility. And it’s not like throwing anyone to the wolves, but rather like a hatchling leaving the nest. They have to learn to fly eventually and retake their place in society, lest we make our nation weak. And if they’re sick as you say, they probably already use my services, so what’s the impact on me and my clinic? People like you are enabling the ingrates. Why do you even care to begin with?”

[nirvanabuilders]

Maximizing Space and Layout in a Modern Garage Conversion

A garage conversion can breathe new life into an underused space, turning it into a stylish and functional part of your home. Whether you’re creating a home office, guest suite, or cozy living area, a smart approach to layout and space optimization is key. Here’s how to make the most of every inch during your garage remodeling & conversion, ensuring a space that’s practical and welcoming.

Plan for an Open Layout An open layout can make a converted garage feel more spacious and inviting. By minimizing walls and partitions, you can create a versatile space that accommodates different activities. For example, an open-plan living room can double as a home office or workout area. Open layouts are perfect for maintaining a modern aesthetic, allowing light to flow throughout the space and making the room feel larger.

Focus on Multi-Functional Design When space is limited, every feature should serve more than one purpose. In your garage remodeling & conversion, consider incorporating multi-functional furniture like fold-out sofas, Murphy beds, or built-in desks. These pieces allow you to adapt the space based on your needs, whether it’s hosting guests or creating a quiet work-from-home corner. By prioritizing flexibility, you’ll maximize the functionality of your converted space without sacrificing style.

Use Smart Storage Solutions Storage is often a challenge in garage conversions, but with some creative thinking, you can keep the space organized and clutter-free. Consider adding built-in shelving, wall-mounted cabinets, or floating shelves to maximize vertical space. A custom storage wall can hold everything from books to workout gear while keeping the floor area clear. These solutions not only help optimize the layout but also maintain a clean, modern look that’s ideal for any garage remodeling & conversion.

Maximize Natural Light Natural light can transform a garage conversion from a dark, enclosed space into a bright, welcoming area. During your garage remodeling & conversion, consider installing large windows, glass doors, or even skylights to bring in as much natural light as possible. A bright space feels larger and more open, making it ideal for a modern design. If privacy is a concern, opt for frosted or tinted glass to maintain a balance between light and seclusion.

Define Zones Without Walls To keep the open feel while still creating distinct areas, try using design elements like rugs, furniture arrangement, or partial dividers to define different zones. For instance, you can use a sectional sofa to separate a seating area from a workspace, or a bookshelf to create a subtle division between a bedroom nook and a living area. These techniques help maintain flow while giving the space structure, making your garage remodeling & conversion more versatile.

Invest in Proper Insulation and Ventilation Comfort is key when converting a garage into a living space. Since garages are not usually built for living, adding insulation to walls, ceilings, and floors is crucial to maintain a comfortable temperature year-round. Proper ventilation is also important, especially if the space includes a bathroom or kitchen area. A well-insulated and ventilated space not only feels more like home but also ensures that your garage remodeling & conversion adds value to your property.

Choose Space-Saving Fixtures and Appliances If your conversion includes a small kitchenette or bathroom, look for space-saving fixtures that keep things compact without compromising functionality. Wall-mounted sinks, compact appliances, and corner showers can fit seamlessly into tight areas. These choices help free up floor space, allowing you to create a modern, uncluttered look that aligns with the rest of your home’s design.

Blend the Design with the Rest of Your Home For a smooth transition between your converted garage and the main house, use design elements that match your home’s overall style. Whether it’s matching the flooring, paint colors, or hardware finishes, these small touches make the space feel like a natural extension of your home. This attention to detail ensures that your garage remodeling & conversion doesn’t just add space—it enhances the overall flow and aesthetic of your property.

Make It Your Own with Personal Touches Ultimately, your garage conversion should reflect your unique style and needs. Add personal touches like artwork, plants, or custom lighting fixtures to make the space feel warm and inviting. A few well-chosen decorative elements can transform a practical design into a room that feels truly special, making your garage remodeling & conversion a success.

By focusing on layout, storage, and smart design choices, you can turn your garage into a space that’s as functional as it is stylish. With the right approach, your garage remodeling & conversion can provide the perfect blend of modern design and everyday practicality. Ready to start transforming your garage? Begin planning today, and make the most of this exciting opportunity to expand your home’s living space.

[hangmanbradshaw]

Steph! I only just saw your post about your WIPs (forgive me for missing any sort of update from you - I blame family 🤣).

Can I be super greedy and request both the proposal and wedding? Although, reading all the other snippets has been amazing so I bow down to you only picking one if that is preferable.

I’m already dying to read some of these.

Absolutely you can!

Sooooo the proposal:

“Jake.”

He looked up at the familiar voice. It was a voice he’d dreamed of frequently, though not usually in a good way, apart from the few dreams where that voice was breathing against his ear instead of snapping at him. Those dreams were almost worse than the stress dreams. He wasn’t sure what it said about his psyche that he occasionally had sex dreams about the devil incarnate, but, well, that was a thing to add to the list of his future therapy appointments he was sure he’d need after this job.

“Mr. Bradshaw, good morning.” He replied with a sunny smile. 

Bradley, as he referred to him only in his head, stopped near his desk. He looked as he always did- dark curls gelled back, scruff lining his jaw, a suit that fit perfectly hugging his body. It was a shame such a nice package had to hold such a miserable bastard, he thought. Bradley’s eyes were trained on his head, and he itched to fix his hair, sure if must’ve looked like he’d just rolled out of bed because…he had.

“Morning.” Bradley said, a little oddly. His eyes didn’t move.

Jake blinked several times when no barking order immediately followed it. He wasn’t used to getting a relatively normal greeting and he momentarily wondered if he was still dreaming. 

“Anything I can do for you this morning, sir?” He asked with that bright smile he’d perfected.

Bradley finally snapped out of it, blinking and shaking his head a bit. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve got meetings. Hold my calls.” He stared again at his face, and Jake suddenly remembered he was still wearing his glasses, not something he usually did at work. Bradley added on, almost awkwardly, “please.”

The man walked into his office after that, leaving Jake to gape and wonder if he really was still dreaming. 

“Hey, man. Late night?” Javy asked as he popped his head over the partition of the cubicles. 

He shook his head and turned to focus on Javy. “Yeah, had a date with that guy.”

“The male model?”

“He’s a librarian.”

“Same difference.” Javy waved him off. “You gonna see him again?”

“I think so.”

A throat cleared behind him and he whirled around. Bradley was standing there with that pinched expression he got when he was pissy. 

“I said hold my calls, not gossip.”

He blinked and stood a bit straighter. “Right, sorry.” He glanced down at the box Bradley was awkwardly clutching in his hand. “You need me to do something with that?”

Bradley blinked, surprised, as if he’d forgotten about it. He shoved it behind his leg and said, “No. Get back to work, and fix your hair. I need you to come up to see the board with me in a bit.”

Bradley was gone before he could respond. He stood there, blinking after him, confused as hell by the rollercoaster of the morning. 

Wedding:

“Or ever” Jake mumbled to himself. Rooster pinched his side.

“How long’s a while?” Mav asked.

Rooster cringed. His voice raised an octave as he replied, “Eight months?”

“Eight months?!”

“You can’t say anything! We’re telling everyone at the wedding.”

Jake was pretty sure Mav was about to have a coronary. “Does anyone know?!”

“Not exactly…” 

“Where have you been hiding him? He’s not exactly pocket sized.”

Jake tried to hold in the snort. Rooster gave him a look.

[burdenedwithfaith]

Confession - An in-character prose

The church was silent. The faintest of light filtered in through stained glass windows from the barely-risen sun which peeked over the horizon. The door to the chapel opened only a crack, and closed quickly again, locking with a soft click.

The hush of the church was broken by the sharp clicking of heels against the wooden floor, and the soft shuffling of cloth as he crossed the room towards the confession booth. Pausing for a moment, the took a deep breath before ducking into one of the side arches. He lightly placed a small pillow on the step beside the partition, slowly lowering himself down, wincing slightly in discomfort as he knelt down.

Specks of dust, stirred up from his breathing, caught the light, dancing before him as he hesitantly considered his words. "My Lord, I am lost..." He muttered unsurely, pressing his hands together in prayer. "I have not sinned. At least, not knowingly or actively. But I... Seek guidance." With a sigh, he motioned to cross himself, before placing his hands on his knees.

"I have been honest with myself, and with you, for many years now... and I have faced so much terror, overcome so many challenges... and yet I don't believe anything scares me as much as this." He lightly gripped at his cassock, playing the fabric around in his hands. "I wish I could be as honest with them as I am with you. I do my best to lead the flock, but I am but one man. There are many more in my position, or higher, who have twisted your words... and there are so many more who follow them."

Hanging his head, he closes his eyes, shifting a little on his knees. "If only they knew you as I do." He sighed, his brow furrowed. "I miss your presence within me. You don't know how hard it has been, how long I have once again craved your touch." He paused for a moment, giving a brief snort of mirth. "No... No, I'm sure you do. That's the point, isn't it? But sometimes I wish you never had. I had never felt so complete as when you were with me... and I never will again. That's something I have to live with."

His voice caught in his throat briefly as he hesitated, wondering whether to let the words cross his lips. "I know that this may sound blasphemous, but... I now understand how he fell. To feel your love. So great that he would forsake humanity to be with you." He quickly pressed his fingers to his lips, shaking his head with regret. "No. No, I'm sorry, forgive me, please. I never would, never. But I understand."

Silence fell once more for a long while, only disturbed by his breathing. A tear streamed down his face and his eyes opened once more. "Lord, forgive me... I have not been truthful." He clasped his hands, wringing them together. "In your absence, I have sought out another... Another soul to fill the void in my own. I..." Voice stuttering, he drew a sharp breath which broke into a sob. "I have broken my vows... I have lain with another." Looking up towards the grate before him, a slight hopeful smile played on the corners of his mouth. "But... He is another of your living vessels. So in a way, I am simply expressing my love for you through him."

Blinking at the light filtering in through the screen, he cast his eyes down once more, smile fading. "That's what he tells me, at least. I'm not sure whether I believe that. I wish that I could. But wishing hasn't gotten me anywhere so far." He sniffed, tears falling into his lap, soaking into the fabric of his robe. "I love him, my Lord. He makes me feel complete in ways I don't deserve. I cannot go on alone, I simply can't. I've tried. I shan't ask for penance because I know I cannot repent for this. It will happen again and all I can do is beg for your forgiveness." His breath heaved as he sobbed openly. "I am sorry. Truly I am, but I cannot stop. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. I will serve you in every other way I can, but it will happen again. Just know that I will hate myself for it the entire time it does."

Slowly, his breathing began to even out between soft sobs and sniffles. He reached down for his cincture, lightly brushing the end against his eyes, rubbing his nose with the back of his hands. More light filtered through the grate as the sun rose outside, the stained glass leaving patterns on his face as he gazed upwards. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, voice barely audible. "I am sorry for these and my past sins... And... the sins that will follow."

He sat for a moment longer, before finally rising, groaning slightly at the stiffness in his knees as he stood up. He would take a few minutes to compose himself before turning to unlock the doors to the chapel, preparing for the day ahead.

His secrets, as they had always been, held only by himself.