#having profiles helps with this bur not needed

[mydear-corinthian]

love potion no. 9

sypnosis - attempting to make doctor jonathan crane be in love with you using your love potion

pairing - jonathan crane x reader (pharmacist!)

warnings - SMUT +18, p in v, fingering, creampie, jealousy, reader attempting to poison crane

notes - rushed & based of my fav song, divider by cafekitsune

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

You've been working as the hospital's pharmacist for a while now. The experience was a fifty-fifty. How strange to work under the walls where high-profile criminals are admitted in the city of Gotham.

One day, while you were working on your regular evening shift, a tall man wearing rectangular glasses and a black suit let out a small cough as he approached the window of the pharmacy's counter. Setting your pen down, you looked at this man. Your gaze met his blue eyes. You noticed how his hair was neatly styled.

There was a moment of silence before you brushed up your thoughts. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"I'm here to get the prescription I need."

"And what's your name, sir?"

"Doctor Jonathan Crane."

Your eyes widened, and the pen in your fingers dropped as you heard the name.

That's Jonathan fucking Crane?

He looked younger than you expected to be. You thought that the head psychologist was old so he's the only psychologist in the asylum allowed to prescribe medication.

"I— Please give me a few seconds to find it, Doctor Crane," you stuttered, immediately standing up and wengoing the back of the cashier to where all the anti-depressants and anti-psychotic medicines were stored.

"Hurry up. I don't have enough time to wait," he replied, rolling his eyes out of irritation.

After a few minutes, you finally saw a brown paper bag with his name on it. You immediately grabbed it and then stapled it to ensure that the medicines were safely secured. You walked up to the desk, placing the paper box on top of it in front of Jonathan.

"Thank you," he said, looking at the metallic nameplate on your uniform. "Miss (L/n)."

After that first interaction, he has been meeting you up again in the pharmacy. Taking his usual prescription medicines. After a few more visits, he started to make a few more chats rather than greetings. Asking you how you were, when's your schedule, etc.,

During those visits, you cannot help but feel something. The way you blush every time he compliments you. The way his delicate fingers meet yours when you give him the medicines. Or the way how he just looks fucking good.

One day, you waited for Jonathan to grab his prescription, so you waited. It's been a few hours and no Doctor Crane appeared. Taking a deep sigh, you continued to do your inventory as you waited for him to come.

After a few hours of waiting, a woman knocks on the glass of the pharmacy's counter. You greeted, letting out a soft smile despite being sad for not seeing the psychologist yet.

"May I help you, ma'am?" you asked.

"I'm here to get Doctor Crane's prescription."

Your ears perked up as you heard his name. Your back stiffens as your eyes widen. Why is she here? Why isn't Jonathan here?

"I'm sorry, ma'am; who are you?" you asked in confusion. "I'm sure Doctor Crane doesn't want his prescription medicines to be taken."

The women laughed at your question and your eyebrows met together.

"Oh, I'm his assistant, silly. Maybe his soon-to-be girlfriend? Not sure yet."

What?

Your stomach churned. A mix of sadness and anger rolled up your mind. You didn't know that Jonathan was interested in anyone. You thought that you would have a chance with him. You felt ill.

You stormed out right away, grabbing the papaer box with his name on it. Putting it in front of her harshly.

Forcing on a smile, you said, "Here's the prescription, ma'am."

"Thank you." the woman replied, grabbing the paper box before walking away.

Jealousy is buried all over your body. Bur you cannot help but feel insecure. She was indeed pretty. For sure Jonathan likes her too.

But you also felt mostly anger and jealousy.

As soon as your shift ended, you hurriedly grabbed your bag and went straight to your small apartment. Turning the doorknob, you entered your apartment and removed your shoe. Grabbing a pen and paper from your cabinet, you wrote different formulas for making something for him.

A love potion.

It does sound silly but you were so obsessed with him and you want him that badly. You felt like he was yours and you were his.

The remaining days stayed the same. The same woman grabbed Jonathan's medicines. The same anger and jealousy never left you. You continued in your potion, grabbing all the hallucinogens that you needed from the rmaprimacyou will spend your night making it.

After a week, you finally finished creating the spray. You choose to make the smell the same as your perfume; to let him know that he is yours.

Arriving at the Asylum, you set your bag behind your chair as you start to do your work. There were a lot of customers that day so you kept yourself occupied.

Finally, his assistant arrived.

She approached the glass with the same cheeky smile. "Jonathan's prescription, please."

Fuck, are they in the first-name business now?

Straightening your back, you said, "I think I'll give it to Doctor Crane myself."

The assistant's head turned to your direction with a face in disbelief. She placed her phone down.

"Why?" she asked.

"Doctor Crane requested a new medicine and it contains rare chemicals and it needs to be taken care of properly. This is the last medicine in our inventory so I suggest I'll be the one to give it to him." you lied.

"Fine. I don't care with whatever medicine he wants anyway. Your pharmacists can take catfish that. I'll just go take a quick dinner break, anyways." she replied, rolling her eyes before she walked away while busy typing on her phone.

As she walked away, you let out a sigh of relief. You grabbed the paper box at the back and then the spray you placed on a small glass sprayer in your bag, hiding it in your pocket.

"Hey, Adeline, I'll just give this medicine to Doctor Crane; he requested it," you said, showing him the paper box with his name.

"Yeah sure, no problem. I'll cover the cashier for you." your friend replied.

Letting out a 'thank you', you exited the pharmacy. You didn't know where his clinic was so you tried finding his name on the big board on the entrance of the hospital that was filled with all the doctors and their clinic rooms in the Asylum. You got up the elevator and pressed the buttons. You're confident with this. You checked the formula all over again and gave you the same result but you cannot help but feel how your heartbeat thumped aggressively.

It will work.

You went out as soon as the elevator doors opened. The whole floor was quiet and there were only a few people there, mainly janitors cleaning up. You walked while looking at the small paper in your hand where you wrote his room number.

You stopped your tracks as soon as you saw his name on a sign on a black door.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D, Psy.D, J. Crim. Psychol.

Letting out a deep breath, your fingers opened the door. The entrance was small. A long cushion was on the right while the assistant/secretary's table was on the left— which was empty. There was another door in front of you, which you think is his office.

You knocked three times on the door, fixing your uniform and your hair. You gripped your pocket tightly, securing it.

Your eyes met him as he opened the door. His outfit looked the same. His hairstyles led properly. His rectangular glasses shined. Jonathan's eyes then met yours.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing here?" he asked, not closing the door.

Fuck, he looks hot.

"I— I'm here for the prescription you needed, Doctor Crane," you replied, handing out the paper box with his name on your hand. "Your.. secretary said that she was busy so I decided to just give it to you instead of myself."

Jonathan's eyes still locking yours. "Oh. Well, thank you, (Y/n). Do you want to come inside?" he offered, taking the prescription in your hands gently, his fingers touching yours.

You felt a strike on your spine at the sudden short touch. Jonathan's touch was gentle and his hands felt soft.

"O-Okay.." you replied.

Jonathan opened his door widely, letting you come inside first and then him. His office was twice as big as the outside. His certificates hanging on the wall. A small scarecrow figure is displayed on the black shelves.

"Please, sit." Jonathan offered.

Nodding, you sat down. Your hand still clutching tightly to your pockets.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning against his wooden table while you sat in front of him.

"I'm fine, Doctor Cra—"

"Jonathan. Jonathan is alright." he interrupted.

"Oh, right.." you nodded. "I'm fine, Jonathan. Lots of customers but still doing great. And you?"

"Same way either," he replied, removing his glasses as he looked at you and fuck, you find it so hot.

"So, your secretary.." you brought up the topic. "Is she your.. girlfriend?"

Your question made him laugh. Putting his glasses on he replied, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, she told me that she's your soon-to-be girlfriend so you know.." your hands never leaving your pocket.

Jonathan notices how your hands never leave your pocket. His eyes trying to know what you're hiding inside it.

"What's in your pocket?" he asked, changing the topic.

Fuck.

You sighed, giving up. You stood up and grabbed the spray in your pocket, spraying on his face a couple of puffs. You let out a relief.

His eyes squinted, attempting to rub the liquid off his face.

"How are you feeling, Jonathan?" you asked, walking towards him closely; your face getting closer to his as you trickled your fingers onto his soft face before letting your lips meet his. His hands gripped your waist softly as he kissed back, savoring each other's taste.

He finally opened his eyes and let out another laugh. You let go of him immediately, you were confused. It didn't work? But you were sure that the formula was right. You had the right chemicals. You had the best hallucinogenic chemicals in the city.

Unless..

"Let me guess.. love potion?" he asked, his lips painting a smirk on his face as he looked at you.

You panicked. "I— Why isn't it working?"

Your heels stepped backward while he moved forward. Your heart started to thump aggressively; you were panicking.

"Why isn't it working indeed." Jonathan's eyes grow wide as his lips curve into a smirk. "Well, there are only two options. Either your little experience was an absolute fail or I'm already in love with you."

The words coming out of your mouth left you gasping. He's right. There were only two options.

"But how about your secretary?" you asked.

Jonathan began walking much closer to you until both of your faces were inches apart; your waist hitting his desk. You can be sure that he can hear how loud your heartbeat is. You can smell his strong men's perfume from his neck and his wrists. You can see how ravishing his blue eyes really are.

"It's you. It's always been you." Jonathan confessed, his eyes getting soft as he looked at you.

After a few visits from the pharmacy, Jonathan started to take an interest in you. He observes how you tilt a strand of your hair to the back of your ear whenever he compliments you. How your things are always the same color which he thinks is your favorite. How your ears perked up whenever he brings small conversations about your expertise— medicines.

Jonathan's soft hands found their way to your hips, securing them; tthemknowow you were his. Your lower body sat on top of his black wooden table. His, then, lips crashed into yours again but delicately. You were shocked by the sudden confession and the kiss but you ignored it anyway; you kissed him back, gripping a fistful of his hair as the kiss deepened. The way his tongue met yours made you wet. He explored your lips and tongue, allowing him to savor your taste leaving a trail of kisses down your neck before sucking it, making you suddenly moan in pleasure.

"Ah yes," you moaned but immediately covered your mouth when you noticed how loud it was.

"Don't worry, love," he said in between kisses, continuing to mark your neck. "The whole room is soundproof. Scream all you want, doll."

The wetness in your panties became worse. Your breath hitched as he sucked that spot in your neck. His hands began to trail down to your thighs, his fingers tracing it. The tent in his pants began to be visible.

"Please— touch me, Jonathan.."

Jonathan's fingers now trailed in between your thighs, toying with your clothed clit under your skirt. The touch sends shivers down your spine. He can feel how wet you are and your white lacey panties.

His lips began to paint another sluggish smirk. "So wet for me already?" he teased.

"Please, Johnny. I need you," you cried in pleasure as his fingers started to massage your clit from your panties.

Jonathan removed your panties before throwing them off the floor. The cold air touching your sensitive cunt made you shiver. His thumb began to rub it slowly and then his pace fastened making you bob your head backward, your eyes closing as you felt the pleasure down there. The wet noise echoed all over the room. He then started to insert two of his fingers with no warning making you moaaloudud.

"Fuck!— Yes, Jonathan!"

You moaned as his finger hit that spongy spot there. Your toyed pussy clenching around his fingers. His thumb circling figure eights on your clit. Back arching, your legs squirmed.

Jonathan's fast pace made you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, feeling more wet. Your moans were getting louder and louder.

"Jon.." you moaned. "I'm close."

"Go on," he whispered, you can feel his hot breath on your neck. "Cum on my fingers."

Jonathan's pace quickened until your orgasm flowed. His fingers were coated with your white juices. Jonathan brought up his fingers to his tongue, licking it clean as he tasted your juice.

"Mhm, sweet," he smirked.

Even though you just came from your orgasm, you still have that desire for more. You want him to take you. You want to feel him.

Jonathan gave you a small sweet kiss before his hands found their way to his black trousers, unzipping them; his erection can be clear through his boxers.

"You want me that bad, huh?" he teased. "I think you're the one who drank that potion of yours."

His voice was deep, husky, and raspy which made you want him more. He removed his black blazer, leaving him with his white long-sleeved polo and a tie. You began to unzip your skirt as well, tossing it on the floor. He kisses you again deeply.

As soon as he removed his boxers, his cock sprung out. He was bigger than you expected and veiny. Jonathan began to align his cock to your dripping and aching hole and then inserted himself fully.

"Fuuuckkk—" he groaned as he felt your tight walls take him. "You're so tight."

You gasped as you felt his length take you; a loud hiss escaped from your lips.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he genuinely asked as he noticed you hissed.

Shaking your head, you gripped his broad shoulders. "No— I'm fine. Just keep going."

Jonathan started to slowly thrust inside you, taking no rush which you appreciated. He was gentle. Your legs locked his hips as you embraced his shoulders with your arms.

"I've been dreaming about this since—" he let out a low groan as his hips moved closer to you . "..the day I saw you. Fuck, you're beautiful."

His thrust quickened, making you moan. Your tits were bouncing at every move he makes. Your eyes were completely shut, your head rolling back as you savored the pleasure Jonathan gave you. The way his tip hit your G-spot made you scream a series of the most pornographic moans you've ever done.

"Oh my god! Yes yes yes!"

A smirk on his face was formed when he heard your lovely moans in his ears. Your moans are probably his favorite note. His baby blue eyes met yours when you looked at him. The way he was still wearing his sexy glasses made you blush more.

"You feel so good, my love," he said in between his thrusts. "Fuck— you're mine, okay?"

"Yes, Johnny! I'm—fuck— yours!"

All you felt was nothing but love and ecstasy. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss, and every touch coming from him makes you feel weak and pleasurable.

The table you guys were fucking on aggressively moves at every movement the both of you do. His files, ball pens, and other items fell from the table but none of you minded as your business was focused somewhere else.

A feeling of wetness and and closeless throb in your stomach. Jonathan abusing your sensitive spot with his fat cock didn't help. Your moans and his grunts synchronize together as the both of you feel close.

"I'm gonna cum, love. Where do you want it?"

"Inside, please! Fuck! Fill me up, please please please!"

"My princess wants me to fill her up, yeah? Alright then."

After a few more aggressive thrusts, you felt your orgasm came. His cock was now stained with your cum as he continued.

"Gonna cum now, doll. Take it, baby. Yes yes yes!" Jonathan groaned as he finally came inside you. His dick spurts out his hot white cum inside your walls. Jonathan, then, pulled out; a mix of his load spilled out in your hole.

"Fuck, look at that," he said, watching it dripped to his black table.

Jonathan gave you another kiss but this time, it was passionate. His lips let out a series of compliments which made you flustered and blush at the same time.

"I guess I'll be the one who'll give you your medicines now," you teased.

"I look forward to that, my love."

After dressing up again, Jonathan guided you to the door, not wanting you to be late for your shift. As soon as he opened the door, the both of you were greeted by his assistant who just came in.

"Doctor Crane and... Miss (L/n)... Didn't expect you to visit here." the female assistant said, clearly not expecting you at all.

"Natalia, clear out my schedule this Friday. I'm going on a date with Miss (L/n) here." Jonathan said, making you blush at the sudden invitation.

His assistant's face turned into a frown and anger but tried to let out a fake smile before you and Jonathan left his clinic.

"Your assistant must be sad that I'm going out with you, Doctor Crane."

"Oh, baby... I'm only yours."

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

[svt-chanel]

hiii!! sorry for the random ask (and you could totally private reply to this too), i found your blog from a friend, and i noticed that the fc of chanel is mina (lover her btw), but you listed her nationality as australian-korean-vietnamese. No hate or anything, but since mina is japanese and not of korean blood, and while you also listed her as chan's half sister (which chan is full korean ethnicity wise and korean-aussie nationality wise), it comes off as a little weird. Having her as hanni's (who is 100% viet ethnicity wise and aus-viet nationality) half sister also comes off as a little confusing too. This is kind of like ethnobending, so I just wanted to let you know. You can totally keep her fc as mina, but it would be nice to change up the nationality or to not have her as chan's half sister and hanni's half sister. I hope this doesn't come off as rude or hate, I just want to help a fellow addition out!! I do love the little antics and posts you make about chanel, but I wanted to bring this up. Hope this finds you well <3 If you have any other questions feel free to shoot me a dm and I can clarify/explain more if needed!

hihi!! I decided to private reply to this but I'll unprivate it if anyone else will need clarification about this! Yes I understand that Mina is Japanese but I made Chanel Viet-Aussie-Kor. I did do this intentionally because I

Couldnt find any viet idols that were older (like older than hanni or were popular)

I wanted something unique!

Chanel is a very unique character with her personality and her family! At first she was only gonna be Viet-Aussie but I kept on changing Chanel wether it was from her fc to her nationality/ethnicity. I made her Korean even though mina has no Korean blood because Chan however does have Korean blood and was also born there but raised in Australia. Idk if I've said this one her profile or anywhere else before but she's Korean because she has Korean blood and was born there (the Korean blood comes from her/chan's mother) and the thing is her backstory is rhat her mother and father met in Korea (before her + chan's birth) in high-school and even had a relationship with each other until in college they broke up cuz she cheated on him with Jack (Chan's father). Years later during 1997 Jessica (Chan's/Chanel's mother) is already pregnant with Chan (and she doesn't know) but Jessica and Her Father meet again in Korea while he was on vacation there and then they...yk (I heard u can actually get pregnant with twins by different fathers if u have...yk while ur pregnant) and then after that Chan + Chanel were born and yeah! And then ofc later Hanni was born by her mother bur Chanel's father which makes all 3 of them Half siblings.

I chose Mina as her fc because at first I didn't know what I wanted for Chanel and didn't plan anything out for her yet at the time but I saw Mina and was like "She's an underrated faceclaim plus she's pretty and gives off a elegant vibe." (The vibe I kinda wanted Chanel to give off at the time) I knew Mina is Japanese but just ignored it at the time and hoped nobody gave me problems with it!! (Whoch btw u haven't its just a question!) And I knew this question would come some day but didn't expect it to come this quickly. But yeah! I'll probably either change her fc (sigh again) or change her nationality cuz I PERSONALLY think the Hanni, Chan, and Chanel as half-siblings is really cool or ill just have one of them as her full sibling (which will most likely be chan). Or I'll just save it for a different oc or just delete her entirely and make a different Svt addition.

But either way I really appreciate that you like the antics of Chanel that I post about! (More ade coming from the drafts soon!!) And ofcourse I will and maybe in the future we can become friends!

-xx love Akuma/Woo

[deirabusinesscenter]

Best Virtual Office in Dubai: What to Look for Before You Choose

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To maximize your virtual office investment, keep the following in mind:

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Generally, you'll need a passport copy, visa (if applicable), Emirates ID, and sometimes existing trade license documents, depending on your setup.

Conclusion

Choosing the best virtual office in Dubai isn’t just about the address—it’s about the overall support, compliance, flexibility, and professionalism your provider can offer. With the right features in place, your business can thrive remotely while maintaining a credible presence in one of the world’s top business destinations.Varsal Business Center stands out as a dependable, DED-compliant provider that delivers value, service, and peace of mind for businesses of all sizes. Whether you're launching a new venture or expanding into the UAE, Varsal can help you establish a solid foundation for success

[fixallnow]

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[morinassociates678]

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[hancfubuki]

caleb’s joy suddenly falters for a single second at the mention of another woman, the one he guesses, is the same rafayel calls a betrayer. he knew about her, bur hearing from him directly they shared a bath together simply annoys him. as far as he remembers, the lemurian told him he was the one taking his first kiss, his first everything. yet, sharing a bath seems way too intimate to do it with a stranger. he tries to act composed, his gaze softening with a hint of intensity behind it, a possessive glance that it’s almost impossible to ignore. his head tilts slightly, fingers brushing against rafayel’s neck. “i can’t imagine why she thought that was the right temperature for you.” his words are gentle, casual, but carrying an undertone that betrays his calmness. and so, he leans forward, his head resting on his shoulder as his thumb moves to the edge of his jaw. “i mean, not everyone can understand what you need. it takes… attention. effort.” his gaze flickers down for a moment, jaw tightening as usual when he gets jealous at his own thoughts, this time, picturing rafayel in another bath with someone else. “but you don’t need to worry about that anymore.” he leans in, voice dropping to a murmur as his lips curve in a soft, possessive smile. “because i’m here now. and i won’t let anyone else near you to mess with your water again.” he places a kiss to his jaw before letting go. a promise along with words to claim him, thinking that he wants to be the only one to share this kind of intimacy with him from now on.

yeah. it didn’t matter anymore. caleb is the one with rafayel now, and whoever that woman was, she was nothing more than a horrid memory for the lemurian. the constant glances shared in between also reassured him about this. his palm occasionally laying on top of his knee, gently petting him as he speaks to gideon until it’s time to go. “i have good tolerance, yes.” even when his cheeks are slightly red, but mostly it’s because of the gesture. the soft kiss placed on his lips as he hums happily in response, wanting for it to linger for more seconds and stay connected until they are out of breath. he sighs when rafayel pulls away, the needy look on his eyes asking for more, even when he is aware that’s dangerous for both of them. if they kiss, they won’t stop, and the night will fall with no chances to explore the town a bit more.

as they step out of the tavern, the golden glow of the near afternoon basks the streets in warm hues. the sounds of the market are close, vendors calling out their wares, children laughing, and the faint melody of street musicians tuning their instruments somewhere in the distance. caleb walks a step behind rafayel at first, glancing at his profile and how the light played off his features, a flush creeping up his neck. ridiculous. they just had a moment of intimacy, yet he somehow feels shy about holding his hand. but to be fair, there’s something different about the simplicity of this moment. as he steps closer and without a word, his hand brushes against rafayel’s, curling his fingers around his. the hold grows firmer after a few second, thumb tracing small circles against his skin. “i don’t want to lose you in the crowd.” he says. a weak excuse he doesn’t even need yet somehow it helps him to hold back the urge to pin and kiss him again. after all, holding rafayel’s hand feels natural, yet every time he does it, his heart still races. the sound of the musician gets closer, and they finally find themselves in front of a crowd that’s listening and dancing.

they could see the bard sitting on a wooden stool, cradling a lute with well-worn strings. their fingers move with ease, a soothing sound, like a lullaby, carrying a story without words. he squeezes rafayel's hand for a moment, looking back at him expectantly to see his reaction. "what do you think?" caleb is not well versed in music, so to him it sounds good as long as it's enjoyable, but he wants to listen to the critique of someone like him. "do you make music, seashell?" now he is eager to learn more about the lemurian.

Rafayel gives a little huff through his nose, tilting his head when Caleb teases him again. "I liked our bath. You made it nice and warm, but the last time I was here, that woman made the water so hot I thought she was trying to boil me alive!" He plays up for the dramatics, head tilted back like he's appalled. "I would have believed it if she hadn't stepped into that same water, as if it was nothing." He shakes his head as if in disbelief, wondering just why she had decided it was the perfect temperature when it left his scales feeling weak and nearly falling after the quickest little dip.  An experience he never wants to go through again, if he could help it, seeing as it was incredibly uncomfortable.

Silence falls upon the Lemurian as he listens to Caleb's conversation with Gideon, giving them space to catch up, laughing softly and leaning close to catch every detail. It's a rare chance for him to learn more about the man, so he takes in every story that might give him a hint to his behavior and adventure in Gideon's words, blue and pink eyes taking in every different expression he made from the corner of his eyes. He knows he isn't being as discreet as he could be, only hiding his face with a glass raised to his lips every so often to drink that sweet wine, his gaze sideways as he admires the other's smile and ease as he converses with his friend. Their eyes meet enough times for Rafayel to realize Caleb was keeping an eye out on him as well, which encourages him to drink without worry. The truth is, they had wine like this in Lemuria as well, though the taste was different. Alcohol was also brought from the upper world sometimes when ships were sunk, and he admittedly had had his fair share of messing around with his friends and taking a curious sip. Maybe he had never told Caleb of this, seeing the way he hovers and puts a hand to his lower back as Gideon leaves them, effectively giving him an opening to lean against the Captain without a word after receiving a kiss to his cheek.

"I like music. I wouldn't be opposed to listening to songs created by landlubbers," he jokes softly, giggling airily as his head lolls till it's on his shoulder. "Tipsy... Maybe a little." The admission comes with a dazed sigh, straightening himself and smiling with the softest flush to his cheeks. "Just enough to feel good. You had quite a few as well... Are you alright?" He reaches up, cups his cheek gently to caress-- and as if it's the most natural thing to do, the Lemurian gets on his tiptoes, lips brushing against the other's in a short little kiss. "Let's take a look at the performances, then you can take me to the pier. If there's enough time, we can walk all the way out to enjoy the sunset on the sea's surface."

[moneyallthetime]

Easy Side Jobs Online

I'm going to kick things off by breaking down exactly what an online side job entails. You're going to find out about the bustling world of the gig economy, where skills and time become commodities that you can offer on a global market—all from your living room. This isn't just about making some extra cash; it's also about flexibility and taking control of your earning potential. Whether you're a student needing flexible work hours, a stay-at-home parent looking to contribute to household income, or someone who just wants to monetize a hobby, there's something out there for you. I'm here to help you understand that online side hustles can fit into various lifestyles and schedules. Beyond the obvious financial benefits, these jobs can offer personal growth, skill development, and the freedom to pursue work that actually interests you. In my opinion, it's necessary to set realistic expectations from the get-go. Not every online side gig is going to buy you a yacht, but with diligence, some can significantly pad your wallet. Choosing something that resonates with you is key—as is the understanding that you can always adjust your approach down the road. There's a lot of opportunity in online side jobs, and that's the strategy I like to leverage. Your first attempt doesn't need to be your last. Just don't focus too much on perfection. Instead, prioritize progress and learning as you explore the diverse options available. Top Online Side Jobs You Can Start Today You're going to find out about some of the hottest online side jobs available that you can start right now. These options are great because they cater to a range of skills and interests, and most importantly, they fit into your existing schedule. Freelance writing is a fantastic way to put your writing prowess to use. Whether it's for blogs, digital marketing, or content creation for companies, your words could earn you a pretty penny. All you need is a strong command of language and the ability to express ideas compellingly. Graphic design gigs are all the rage, with companies constantly seeking talented artists to create logos, marketing materials, and website designs. If you have a knack for design and an eye for visuals, your services could be in high demand. Ever considered being a virtual assistant? Managing emails, schedules, and various administrative tasks for businesses could be your next move. It's perfect for those who are organized, tech-savvy, and have excellent communication skills. For those who excel in specific subjects or skills, online tutoring might be your calling. With remote learning on the rise, you can share your knowledge and help others academically from the comfort of your home. Remote customer service positions are essential for companies that sell products or services online. If you're a problem-solver with a calming presence, this could be an ideal fit for you. Crafty individuals can make a good income selling handcrafted items on platforms like Etsy. If you make jewelry, art, or any unique creations, putting your work online can turn your hobby into a profitable venture. Remember, the common thread tying all these side jobs together is the platforms that host them. Websites like Upwork, Fiverr, and Etsy not only connect you with potential clients but also provide a level of security for both parties in the transaction. Maximizing Success with Online Side Jobs: Strategies and Best Practices If you want to really get the most out of your online side job, it's crucial to create a strong personal brand and online presence. This doesn't just showcase your skills but also builds trust with potential clients. Think about a clean, professional social media profile or a simple website with your portfolio. You can always adjust your approach down the road, but setting clear boundaries from the start is essential for balancing your side hustle with your main job or other personal commitments. A structured schedule helps prevent burnout and keeps your productivity high. Effective time management is your best friend when juggling multiple commitments. Tools like digital planners or time-tracking software can help keep you on track. Remember, it's not just about working hard but working smart. Don't overlook the power of virtual networking to propel your side job forward. Online communities, forums, and social media can be fertile ground for building professional relationships that could lead to more opportunities. I'm a firm believer in lifelong learning, especially in the fast-paced online world. Regularly enhancing your skills keeps you relevant and competitive. Online courses, webinars, and even YouTube tutorials can be great resources. Finally, choose something that resonates with you. Your online side job should be something you're passionate about because that passion will reflect in the quality of your work and the service you provide to customers. Read the full article

[hellaciousdecimation]

Reblog with one muse per reblog for Khivol to give his enlightened judgement unto them. Judge backs are welcome! 

[goldengoddess]

hi! I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are, can i please request some Matthias fluff based on the injury trope?

stay alive for me - matthias helvar

pairing: matthias helvar x gender neutral reader

a/n: i was gonna make this short but it was low key kind of cute!!!!!! also i know in the books matthias has like a military buzz cut and i reject that so he actually has very fluffy curls :’)

warnings: angst at the start and then fluff, violence and bullet wound

out of all of the stupid things you’d done in your life, this was probably the most stupid.

everything the job had gone to shit very quickly. jesper had given his signal at the wrong time. wylan had detonated the bomb too early. they'd underestimated the number of stadwatch that would be on duty and nina had ran into some trouble.

and you and matthias, alone, had needed to run away from at least seven men raining bullets at the two of you.

so after everything was said and done and you’d all met at the meeting point, gloomy, defeated, and penniless, you really didn’t want to mention the bullet that had skimmed your side during the chase.

but about ten minutes into the walk back to the slat, it was apparent that the wound might have been a little more than just a nick.

your vision was black at the edges and the whole world felt like it was spinning. the group walked ahead of you, keeping with the quick pace that jesper alway set. matthias lagged behind, every now and then glancing in your direction.

you held your side as inconspicuously as possible and reassured a slightly worried matthias with a fake grin.  when he looked forward and everyone else was occupied in conversation, you slowly pulled your hand away from your side. the sight of the deep red blood on your hand made you lose your step. suddenly you were on your knees holding your side once again.

you must have let out a whine or cry of pain because matthias turned his body in your direction. you locked eyes with him, though you could barley see his horrified face through your tears and fading vision. you collapsed onto the floor as you heard the rest of the team running back to your direction.

you fought to keep your eyes open. but then matthias’ face hovered over yours. and even though you were bleeding out on the street of this filthy city, you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked.

you winced as matthias pressed his hands to your side to apply pressure to the wound. you took your bloody free hand and placed it on his head of curls. after the ice court, you’d managed to convince him to grow it out enough that you could run your fingers through it. he leaned into your touch and let out a wet sob.

“you didn’t say anything” he angrily said to you.

you did your best to give him a reassuring smile, “didn’t want to worry your drüskelle. you’re high strung as it is.”

he shook his head in exasperation, “if you don’t die i’ll kill you for your stubbornness myself.”you registered matthias’ arms underneath your body, lifting you up. you could hear the rest of the crows shouting instructions, kaz sending inej off to find a healer, nina crying to jesper out of guilt that she couldn’t do anything anymore to save you.

but all that really mattered to you was the steady and soldier like walk of the boy holding you. you pressed your face into his chest, “my blood is going to ruin your clothes.”

he let out what sounded like a small laugh, “don’t worry about my clothes my love. just stay awake will you?”

you nodded your head but you could already feel the energy draining from your body. “ ’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was hurt” you mumbled softly.

“i should have noticed” he answered gruffly, speeding up his pace at the groggy sound of your voice.

“you always blame yourself for everything matthias. don’t blame yourself for this, not my death” you said. the words coming of your mouth were delusional, you didn’t have much control or awareness.

but matthias’ response came clear as day, like a tether to reality and life.

“you are not dying today.”

the rest of the night went by in a blur. the last thing you remember was nina’s shouting commands, the sound of a door being kicked open, and the fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to die in matthias’ arms.

and then, sunlight.

the kind of light that was golden and pink at the same time. the filled an entire room. it was your favorite time of day, and in ketterdam it was rarely as beautiful as today.

you looked around the room and found you were laying in your bed at the slat. bloody towels were laid out across the floor. when you tried to move, your side felt sore. but it was obviously healed as well as it possibly could be.

at your movement, you heard a soft groan of protest from next to you. you gasped when you turned your head and found a sleeping body next to you. only then did you realize you were laying on the chest of said body and their arm was placed protectively around you.

you relaxed when you saw the familiar profile of your favorite person in the world. you snuggled back into this chest and placed a soft kiss on it.

this stirred him awake and you felt him shift underneath you. “love?” he asked in the softest voice you’d ever heard him use.

you nodded your head against his chest, “yes, i’m awake.”

the sigh of absolute relief that left his mouth broke your heart in two. his grip on you tightened and he pulled you even closer, if that was possible. he didn’t say anything, just placed a gently kiss to your head.

you pushed away from him slightly so you could sit up and look at him. his blue eyes sent shock waves through your body, the way they always did. but you didn’t fail to notice how they were less vibrant than usual, how his bags were much darker than the last time you’d really looked at him.

“i am so sorry i made you worry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you” you told him shakily, a lump forming in your throat.

he quickly grabbed your face with both of his hands and leaned his forehead against yours. “hey hey, my love. it is okay. you are okay. that is all that matters to me now.”

you closed your eyes and placed your hands on your shoulders for support.

“but next time,” he started, “maybe you could tell me when you’re bleeding out?”

you giggled and disconnected your head from him, you nodded and bur your lip in embarrassment. “trust me, i will not be making this mistake again.”

he smiled a little bit and traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “you’re not allowed to die on my just yet.”

“just yet?” you teased playfully, leaning into his touch the way he had leaned into yours only a few hours before.

he shook his head and grinned fondly, “no not yet. you still owe me a lot of close calls, i’ve saved your life a couple of times i think you have to live to pay that back.”

you let out a scoff but mirrored his silly grin, “oh shut it. you know i’ve saved your life just as many times drüskelle.”

he smiled but his face turned more serious. “you owe me a life time of happiness, my love. you do not get to die and leave me alone when we are supposed to grow old together. be buried in the snow together.”

you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed to let him know you were here. that you were listening, breathing.

he smiled, “so if you could stop making stupid mistakes and let me help you, i’d really appreciate it.”

you laughed and placed a quick kiss on his lips, “anything for you my life. anything for you.”

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low key forgot i had a taglist for a second sorry friends!

[noramoya]

“Wade Robson... you should be ashamed of yourself!!! You and your family befriended the biggest star in the world. I personally recall your mom Joy calling MJJ Music with a sob story about needing money knowing that Michael Jackson loved her and your entire family and would do anything to help her. Michael especially loved you like a son, because you dreamed of being a dancer as your mother took you around Australia impersonating who ?! MICHAEL JACKSON !!

Your family moved to the United States leaving your father behind and Michael gave you a record deal as part of a rap duo named QUO ! It FAILED !!! Michael set you up with his niece Brandi and you guys were together for several years... until you CHEATED on her with other woman, several times.... she finally left you ! Bu you still remained in the Jackson’s Circle... Why ? Because it opened doors for you, being associated with Michael Jackson and his family.

That association with Michael Jackson afforded you the opportunity to befriend such artist as Justin Timberlake and Brittany Spears... And what did you do ?! You started working with Justin, as a Choreographer and, then, slept with his girlfriend Brittany Spears and was FIRED ! Justin then wrote a song about it called "Cry Me A River". And yet you still call Justin your FRIEND !!!

You used your association with Michael Jackson to befriend PRINCE and Mayte… And what did you do ?! You slept with HER !! Such a friend you are !! You use your association with Michael Jackson to get yourself a gig on a television dance show... Word gets out about your previous disregard and disloyalty toward high profile celebrities... And what happens ?! You get CUT from that show.

SUDDENLY there's a Michael Jackson’s VEGAS SHOW in the works and you BEG to the Estate to be the choreographer for the show... Bur another Choreographer is chosen ! Why ? Because you were regarded as NOT QUALIFIED ! What do you do now that your web of lies are catching up with you and you are a Hollywood damaged goods ?! You turn on the ONE MAN who looked out for you and your family, during your ENTIRE life, and started making up a story of child abuse/molestation/allegations, when you have before, EMPHATICALLY stated, for many, many years, that it NEVER HAPPENED !!

Fast forward to later... Michael Jackson is sadly NO LONGER with us. You then begged Michael’s nephew,Taj Jackson, for VIP access to Michael Jackson’s funeral for you and your entire family ! Yet, you claim this monster molested you... SICK !!! You are now considered a home wrecking, disloyal individual and is essentially black-balled from Hollywood. What do you do? Because you know the world knows you are associated with Michael Jackson, you use that association - once again - to change your LIFE FINANCIAL STORY, now claiming that Michael Jackson molested you. Why ?!!! Because you are BROKE and your wife is asking divorce if you do not start making money !

Right after, you convinced another broke ex-friend of Michael (Pepsi commercial) to join you in a frivolous lawsuit against Michael Jackson’s Estate for 100's of Millions of dollars, on fake accusations ! But the Court agree that there is NO MERIT to this lawsuit and DISMISSED IT !! The Jackson Family never fight back, when people say disparaging things about their family’s members... Mrs. Jackson once told me, when I questioned her about this… She replied "because DIRT sinks and CREAM rises" !

Wade, you knows this to be true, as well... So what does you do ? You and James Safechuck concocted a story so Salacious, so Scandalous, so Despicable, and presents it to HBO for a one sided EXPLOSIVE televised documentary of LIES ! In hopes that the Michael Jackson’s BILLION DOLLAR ESTATE will settle financially with you, to make this documentary go away… Well that documentary of LIES will air this weekend, because MJ’s Estate DID NOT accept the blackmail... And unlike the Jackson's past generation, this New Generation of Jackson’s kids are not having it !! They are suing HBO for airing your lying ass !!

I hope when this is all said and done, the Estate counter-sues you two in Civil Court and WIN! I hope it renders you penniless for the rest of your life ! Michael Jackson was Good to you, to your mother Joy, and to your sister Chantel... And because your gravy train has run out, THIS is how you repay him ! You are a sad excuse for a human being !!! Sorry for this long post … But knowing what i know, I just couldn't be silent.

For any of you who thought Michael Jackson was strange... I get it... Because there is no one else on Earth to compare him !! Yes, there are other children stars who grew up to "blend in" to society...and I get it... But when you are Michael Jackson and the only thing on Earth that is more recognizable than you is the yellow "M" at McDonalds, that in itself is "Strange!" Anyways.... I say... BOYCOTT THE MOCKUMENTARY ! And if you MUST watch it, know that you now know the basis of the scandalous lies contained within the documentary !

PLEASE … Let the Man REST IN PEACE!!! — CLYDE JENKINS, March 1st 2019.

@veadai @carmela1603462 @annievvv77 @annievvv7 @swift-fated @mjslays @mj-confessions @mjstevent @mjvideos @mj-fans-alliance-blog @mjjsecretlovers-blog @mjjproductionz @mjjsourcesblog @mjjofficial @mjjalways @7-starboi @jacksonfamilypix @jackson-royalty-blog @jackson8520yuleidy @jacksongalart @jacksonprince @michael-jackson-blog @michaeljacksonfamily @michaeljacksonlooks @michaeljacksonslegend @michael-jackson-is-invincib-blog #FYP @bp2003gaming @greatgoshesoffire @caffeinated-chaos-bean @spongebobafettywap @just-mumu @notravian @

[prophetrick]

Death’s Hounding Us (w/from-across-the-stars)

( @from-across-the-stars ) Having a successful business meant cultivating positive relationships. The rising tide raises all ships, so Yasuhiro heard. That knowledge he took to heart, and he made a point to do so with as many businesses between his shop, Hope’s Peak, and his home. Yasuhiro made a map of his points of interest, and rotated between an occasional visit between them. A bakery here, printing shop there, it didn’t matter. The same was said for the White Blossom Pet Hospital. Yasuhiro had to pass it no matter if he took the train or drove to work after school, so he thought it best to acquaint himself to the staff, much to their annoyance. The graveyard attached to the hospital, grim as it was for some passing by, didn't bother Yasuhiro too much. This side of Tokyo fell on a ley line, one he could tap into if he needed. The predecessor of the pet hospital seemed to pick up on this, as Buddhist sutras and offerings could be found throughout both areas. In spite any work the monks, staff or visiting families did, there were the stragglers who remained well past their burial on occasion.

Some followed their owners or went into the afterlife when shrine attendants came by to purify and cleanse as they were called in. It wasn't often that Yasuhiro encountered them on his way to work, but when he did, he couldn't help himself; he'd play with them if they ventured near his shop or when he could slip away from the public eye. These ghosts weren't harming anyone, any so he'd never think to bother them. More often than not, the pets chose to leave. And the ones that stayed? They still wandered about here and there, wandering and being restless, but they were content to watch everyone else go about their lives and to wander through the streets as they pleased. If they had a purpose beyond death, who was he to dissuade them? He'd leave offerings for them should they visit him, and when he had the time, he'd record his findings in a journal while swaying about lazily on his bench swing. He understood that some ghosts would become unruly after a time, forgetting themselves and their purpose for lingering. Here, though, that wasn't entirely the case; the tranquility on this side of Tokyo tended to pacify them. Some of them had been a fixture well before Yasuhiro had set up shop, like the little Maltese warden who'd patrol the surroundings. A good boy, this Maltese. It seemed he was smart enough to remember the collar that proudly hung around his neck, as Yasuhiro could see his name on the little dog bone: Chuck. Chuck was easygoing and approachable, and carried an uncanny sagely look for a dog. Chuck probably looked like that before he met his fate. Yasuhiro considered him a good omen when he popped up. Recently, his part of Tokyo had been blanketed in a layer of silence. Not from the bustling crowd of people, oh no, this tourist side never seemed to sleep. The hospital and graveyard carried an uneasiness that spilled into the streets. Some people had picked up on this, Yasuhiro included. They hadn't really said anything about it yet though, but he could pick up when there were people who knew something was off. This quiet was ominous, not at all like their usual city. They seemed to be ignoring it, except him. He just didn’t know what to do with it and he had no clues to latch onto. Chuck hadn't been seen in a while either, which he found troublesome. Hope's Peak attendance wasn't compulsory for him, but he felt inclined to maintain some normalcy. He didn't need to announce a day off, so Yasuhiro had decided that he'd put his nose to the ground and see what he could scare up. The next three days had been set aside for his investigation, and he'd done well enough to keep a low profile. Or so he thought. As Yasuhiro began making his way out of his classroom, the unsettling feeling of eyes burring a hole into his head made his body stiffen up. His head turned with his own wary eyes scanning the corner ahead of him.

[fixallnow]

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Tagged 

[impala-dreamer]

All Our Sins

SPN FanFic

~It has been a long time since your last confession, but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to go like this...~

Priest!Dean x Reader, Sam

1,700 Words

Warnings; NSFW. EXTREME BLASPHEMY. Priest!Kink. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Hardcore fuckin'. In a confessional booth.

A/N: For my darling @assbuttaf​, who asked for this like a year ago... Hope you all enjoy...

 My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

The candlelight died away instantly as you closed the tiny door of the confessional booth. It had been years since you'd even stepped foot in a church, let alone attempted confession, but there you were, about to sink to your knees.

Afraid to look through the screen, you bowed your head and knelt down, ready to try this whole praying thing.

"In nomine Patris et Filii, Spiritus Sancti. Amen." The priest spoke slowly, his voice like caramel through the grate; deep and rich.

Your lip shook. "Bless me, Father for I have sinned."

"Go on…"

It was hard to speak; your voice shaking, chin steadied by clasped hands. "It's been...well, hell, I can't remember how long since I did this last.

"That's fine, my dear, go on. What do you need to confess?"

"I guess… a lot," you admitted with a sarcastic laugh. "I mean, I curse constantly. I've been in fights, I've killed. Not- humans, but…things."

The priest nodded, his crisp profile distorted by the mesh. "That's...not great."  A slick chuckle made your heart skip.

"I've saved people too, Father," you went on, explaining away the sin of murder. "Lots of people."

"I'm sure you have."

There was a pause, a long moment of silence inside the booth. You could hear his breathing, slow and steady; he was waiting for you to speak, to tell him everything. You lifted your eyes to the screen and caught a glimpse of tanned skin and plump, pink lips. Quickly, you dragged your eyes away. He was a priest, not something to be ogled.

“Is that all?” he asked, breaking the silence and halting the sinful throbbing betwixt your thighs.

Startled, you sucked in a short breath. “What?”

“Is that all you wish to confess?” He spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out each letter; the F pulling his bottom lip tight between his teeth. You couldn’t help but watch through the grate; tiny crosses giving you a stunted view of his tongue as it pressed against perfect teeth. “If we are to be forgiven, we must confess all of our sins…”

“N-no,” you stammered, feeling yourself weaken with each word he spoke. “There’s...more.”

“So… go on.”

You took a breath and closed your eyes, gathering the strength you needed to continue. “Well, Father, I...I’ve had impure thoughts.” The words were stuck on your tongue, your mouth drying as your pussy dripped, arousal taking over. “About my friend,” you went on. “My...partner- work, partner. My friend. He’s...so, so beautiful.” The padded bench beneath your knees was doing little to keep you up; the thought of him making your blood sing. “I’ve been very... lustful, Father.”

The priest sat forward, leaning closer to the screen. “How so?”

“I touch myself thinking about him. I can’t help it. I dream about his hands on me; about his big cock inside of me.” The confession sprang free and you went with it, telling your deepest secret to the shadow in the booth next to you. “I cum all the time thinking about sucking his cock; him fucking my face so hard that I can’t think straight. I- I need him.”  

“Is that so?” His voice was darker, his breath heavier. “Go on.”

“Sometimes during the day, I sneak away to go to the bathroom and fuck my slutty pussy while I think about him.” It was so easy now that the seal had been broken, and your lips refused to yield. “I stole his undershirt a while ago and I keep it under my pillow back home and stick my face in it while I ride my dildo, smelling him while I squirt all over the place. God, he’s so sexy, I need him so fucking bad. Need him to wreck my drippy cunt and fill me up. Need his cock so bad. So bad.”

He swallowed hard. “You have been sinful, girl.” His tone was rough, condemning. “I don’t know that this kind of behavior can be forgiven. Are you penitent?”

You could feel hot wet you were; the thin panties beneath your pencil shirt were soaked. “What?”

“Do you regret your actions?”

A smile pulled at your mouth. “No, Father. I do not.”

The priest sucked his teeth in disappointment. “You will be punished for this,” he said firmly.

Your heart was racing. “Yes, Father, I know.”

Without another word, he reached over and slammed the partition shut, blocking him from your view. The room grew dark and you held your breath, listening as he moved in the compartment next to you. His door opened and slammed shut.

You hissed as bright light flooded your sight and you squinted to see a tall, dark silhouette framed by holy light.

The priest stepped into your side of the booth and shut the door behind him.  

You turned, confused. “Father?”

The priest opened his belt in the dark. “It’s time for your penance, girl.”

A big hand reached out and took hold of your hair, pulling you roughly to your feet. You gasped and bit your tongue, trying not to scream in the House of the Lord. He lifted you up and pressed himself against you, pushing you back into the hard wooden wall. He dropped his lips towards yours but did not leave a kiss, forcing you to imagine what he would taste like, what his mouth would feel like. His lips hovered over your mouth and across your jaw, dropping down to linger by your ear, breathing you in.

“You’re just full of sin, aren’t you?” The hand in your hair tightened and he licked at your throat.

“Yes, Father,” you grit, riding another wave of arousal. It dripped from your cunt; your musk filling the small space.  

“We’ll have to fuck it out of you,” he whispered, rocking his hips against you.

“W-what?” Your heart stopped as he spun you around; the fingers in your hair falling to grab your upper arm and shove. You tipped over, hands catching on the seat at the back of the booth; wood slamming hard against your palms. “Fuck!”

Hot hands ripped your skirt up and tore your panties down, letting them fall, pointless around your calves. He slid a thick finger between your thighs, reaching down to feel your leaking pussy.

“All this...sin,” he growled, shoving his finger deep inside of you. “So shameful.”

“Shameful, yes,” you whimpered, rocking back onto his hand, trying to get him to move.

He pulled his hand away and you cried pathetically, arching your back to press your ass against him. You were stopped by his hand as it cracked against your plump cheek.

“Needy,” he condemned, slapping again. “Filthy…” Another slap, fingers splayed. “Lustful…”

Your body was throbbing, inside and out, from the deepest reaches to the surface of your skin. “Please.”

The final slap was delivered and you clenched your teeth as the hand moved away. You could hear the rustle of fabric as he dropped his pants, pulling the clerics away to deliver your true punishment.  

“Please, Father,” you begged, aching to be filled.

His hands returned, gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you back; the tip of his cock nudging against your heat.

“Please!”

“Slut.” He drove his cock hard into you, burning your flesh with his heat and the quick stretch of his hefty size.

“Fuck!”

His thrusts drove you wild, setting the pace for your heart as he tried to fuck the sin from your bones. You could barely stand, legs shaking as he slammed into you again and again. He was quiet, moaning through a clenched jaw as he worked; hands bruising your flesh, thighs leaving red marks where they struck your legs.

As his breathing quickened, his rhythm changed, picking up tempo as he neared the end. He reached forward with one hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, rubbing hard, forcing you to cum on his throbbing cock, helping him to let go. You milked him dry, cunt pulsing around him, and he stilled against your ass, breathing deeply, satisfied, tired.

He backed away and you could feel his cum drip from your pussy, leaking hot and steady down your inner thigh. He ripped at your panties, tearing the delicate sides apart, and wiped at your used cunt, cleaning up his mess. You turned then and sat, back aching, muscles quaking. He tossed the panties into your lap and laughed.

“Go forth, my child,” he said, voice dark and cracked, “and sin no more.”

He left you there in the dark, slamming the door closed behind him as he stepped out into the candlelight, black suit and shining shoes all you could see of him.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you shoved the ruined panties into your purse and followed him, leaving the humid booth behind.

Dean was standing outside the door, frozen like a deer in headlights. You peeked around him to see Sam not far away, his face masked with annoyance and disbelief.

“Did you two actually just fuck in there?” he asked, flashlight beam hitting the confessional booth behind you.

Dean smirked and gave him a little shrug. “May-maybe?”

You slapped his arm. “Dude.”

Sam’s eyes rolled mightily. “For fuck’s sake, guys. We’re on a case. This place is haunted and you’re...you’re… what the hell are you even doing?”

Dean was at a loss, so you stepped in. “Role playing?” you offered, but it did little more than trigger Sam’s gag reflex.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped, wagging a finger at him. “Watch your mouth, son. We’re in God’s House. Show some respect.”

Sam gasped, offended. “Me? You just-”

“Eh!” Dean held up a hand, halting Sam’s argument. “We’re on a case, Sam. For fuck’s sake, let’s stop this fooling around and get to work.”

With a wink your way, Father Dean headed off into the sacristy, on the hunt for a murderous spirit’s tether.

“You two are going to hell,” Sam muttered as he sighed and moved to follow.

You smiled and watched Dean’s pretty ass as he disappeared into the next room. “Yeah,” you agreed. “But worth it.”

2020 Forever Tags:

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[subarubi]

Somethin’

Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam Wilson’s in for the ride of his life. (Idk I suck at summaries)

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Sexual content. Modern AU. Cowboy!Sam. Slight Angst? Idk. Alcohol consumption. Inappropriate use of stable floor. 

A/N: Something about the leaves changing is putting me in the mood for some Sam Wilson lovin’. ma’ams, sirs, non-binaries, I present to you, COWBOY SAM. This is purely born out of thirst, the barely there plot is just a vehicle for it. Yee-motherfuckin’-haw!  

-

Clear blue skies and soft, white cumulus clouds look just the same above him here as they did there. 

It had been the first thing he noticed on that long, quiet car ride home from the airport and the last thought before settling into the checkered sheets of his adolescence. Night, day, clear or grey — it’s the same sky he’s been under his entire life, same backdrop to his last few years at war. 

One certain days, he feels blind as a newborn, clutching to his momma’s chest as she quiets his cries. Others, he swears he can see thousands of miles away if only he just squints hard enough. 

Today, there’s sweat stinging in his eyes, so he only sees wide pastures through a blurred filter. 

Sam Wilson holds his father’s hat in one hand, uses a forearm glowing bronze beneath the sun to wipe away the dampness over his brow. He’s known heat, spent hours baking under the hot sun in full fatigues. This is a different kind of heat — the lazy, sleepy kind that starts in his neck and spreads warm everywhere. It pools in unwelcome places: behind his knees, down his shoulder blades, in his ass crack. 

“What’s the matter, cowboy? Can’t take the heat?”

"M’fine,” he scoffs indignantly, kneading a thick thigh splayed out over worn leather, soothing his sore muscles. Despite his objections otherwise, Sam’s dog-tired and aching for a cold shower. He wants to fall face first into the couch and stay there for, forever, maybe. 

Your smirk burns him up from the inside out with irritation and a whole other barrel of emotions he doesn’t want to get into when you’re being this annoying.  “If you need a break, I won’t tell anyone...”

Sam pants a laugh, settling the cattleman hat back over his head, squint in his warm brown eyes easing in the brim’s shadow. Shaking his head, he replies “I don’t believe that for one second.”

He’s heard that most people settle a bit after they reach their mid-20s. People have jobs and responsibilities and have less room to be obnoxious and wild. You haven’t changed one bit since high school. You’re just as loud mouthed and unpleasant as you were all those years ago before Sam left to enlist. You used to laugh and throw mud in his face when he worked on your daddy’s ranch as a kid, put burs in his boots and made fun of his gangly arms. Not much has changed on that front now that he’s back — he’s kind of glad for it, so used to people in this little town treating him differently now.

Sam licks salt from his lip, watching you in front of him, horse in a jog. 

The steady rocking of your hips side to side holds his gaze, matching your pace but hanging back enough that conversation is sparse. Sam eyes the way denim hugs your legs, tapers off into a pair of worn brown boots with stitched designs fraying. He remembers when you’d first gotten those boots, how you danced in them before him. He’d always had a sneaking suspicion you liked him back then; he was older and worked for your daddy, your teasing always felt like just an excuse to talk to him. 

You’re a woman now. An honest to god woman with pretty eyes and a dangerous smile — all stuffed into tight jeans and a chambray shirt with the top buttons undone in such a way that he can the path of sweat down your neck and into your cleavage. Sam visibly swallows.

“What’s it like?” your sweet twang tickles the inside of his ears, a shiver run down his spine. 

Sam shifts in his saddle, leaning up on the horn to give his sleeping ass a break, “What’s what like?”

Silence for a beat, what little he can see of your profile twists in uncertainty. You slow up so that your horse falls in step beside his, shrugging to appear more casual, though it’s more comfort for you than him. “I mean... the Air Force, Afghanistan. That whole thing.”

Oh, that whole thing. Sam stiffens, reins creaking in tight fists as he struggle with such a small, harmless question. 

In the hours you’ve spent together since he’s been back, the subject of where he went and why he’s back remained fairly untouched. Sam didn’t want to talk about it and you don’t like awkward, feelings conversations in general. He’d liked the balance the two of you had struck up. Considered you a good friend, even, for it. 

“You don’t have to say anything! Just forget I said anything,” you rush out. 

Sam can tell by the way you frantically avoid looking at him that an ashamed heat is crawling up your neck and pooling in your face. He sighs heavily, shoulders sagging and looks out over the herd of cattle moving pastures.

He’s dog-tired. 

After Riley died, he just couldn’t find reason anymore — his momma said it was giving her smiley boy premature frown lines. Getting out was supposed to be a good thing for him, but he’s just so tired of waiting for the results. He’d expected coming home and working on the ranch would be like flipping a switch; he’d be happy again and wouldn’t have to think about his time in the war. For the most part, he has been. But some days he doesn’t know whether it’s better to be blind or to see thousands of miles away.

Then there are days like today: the in between where everything is blurry and he wants to talk about it, but doesn’t know where to begin. 

“It’s hot as hell.”

The bewildered look on your face makes him smile small. His lips twitch and it sends yours chasing off after them, cracking big and wide. He wishes his momma could see him now, with that gap-toothed grin she says she misses so much. What it is, he doesn’t know, but something about you makes him so comfortable. 

If you wanted to, you couldn’t get Sam to stop talking after that. 

He tells stories of COs with sticks up their asses and hillbillies he never thought he’d have to protect and never wants to again, of all the shit Riley put him through and what passes for food on military bases. And by the time the sun sets and the cows are grazing on fresh, untouched grass, the ache in Sam’s hips and legs can’t compare to the one in his cheeks. 

“He sounds like an amazing friend,” you smile softly, boot kicked up on the farriers stool outside the barn.

Sam smiles wistfully into the neck of his beer bottle, nodding firmly, “The best.”

The sweat on his shirt has dried under a cool night breeze, Sam’s eyes slide closed to savor the feeling of it. It’s peaceful and quiet in the best way, a warm beer in hand, crickets chirping and a somewhere frog croaking. He can’t help but think this is as close as he’s gonna get to being happy again without Riley. 

A cacophonous clattering of the glass bottle graveyard the two of you cultivated breaks through it. You hiss loudly, muttering curses under your breath as you try and right the ones that fell over, “Shhh, dammit. Shit.”

Sam rolls his head to the side slowly with relaxed breaths, looking at you with a goofy smile. He places his bottle down in the dirt besides just about the dozen other empty ones, reaching out for you, “You’re a good friend too.”

You watch him with wide eyes, chewing your lip dark in that way that he never lets on drives him crazy. 

His eyes lazily drift over your face, down the smooth planes of your neck and over the panicked heave of your chest. There’s a summer haze over him, he feels all fuzzy and warm with alcohol swirling around in his gut, liver working overtime. He’s thinking things he probably shouldn’t, fingers itching to do things he definitely shouldn’t. 

You are a good friend, he means that. 

He’s been home for a few months now and can count on one hand the amount of people he actually likes spending time with. His momma and his little sister on Sundays after church making — or rather, for his part, eating— pies. Your father, who Sam’s always looked up to, listening to life lessons that he’s already learned but doesn’t have the heart to say so. He likes going to the bar with the other ranch hand Tommy well enough, but only for a few. 

You. All the time, even when he’s supposed to be doing something else or you’re annoying the hell out of him. 

Sam clears his throat, hoping that the starry-eyed look in his eyes is obscured by the darkness of night and the low brim of his hat. By the way you’re looking back at him, he highly doubts he’s gotten away with it. “I should get going, it’s late.”

“You-” you swallow, sitting up straight in your seat as he makes to get up, “you shouldn’t drive.”

Cracking bones have Sam grimacing as he stretches tall, working out all the kinks he’d gotten from a long day out riding, driving the cattle. He stumbles a little in his boots, kicking up a small bit of dirt with a tipsy laugh, “You’re right...”

He sees your tense shoulders sag in relief, settling further against the red barn wall. Sam grins mischievously, swaying towards the open barn doors, “I’ll ride.”

“Sam!” you call after him, and he hears the light pounding of your boots after him as he bolts into the stables. 

He’s never felt so fast, so light, running with you hot on his trail, boots sliding dangerously across the hay covered ground. Sam’s a kid again, unburdened by the hardships of war and the grief of losing his best friend. 

Once, when he was working here in high school with you constantly ribbing on him, Sam stole your hat — same one sitting on that pretty head now — and ran. You gave chase until your shorter legs tired out and ugly sobs of frustration poured from your lungs. He felt guilty, mean even and stopped as soon as those doe eyes looked up at him in hurt. There was a terrible smirk on your face he’ll never forget when you triumphantly snatched it out of his hands and kicked him in the shin, little brat you were. 

This is payback. 

Sam takes a hard left into one of the empty stalls, laughing wildly when you corner him, hands holding his sides in stitches. Smiling eyes betray the scowl on your face as you approach slowly, as if he were a jumpy young colt for you to tame. 

Something’s in the air, suffocating the closing space between the two of you and Sam’s pinned beneath the unreadable stare of your eyes dark with... somethin’. 

The heave of his chest is prominent under the loose fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, white undershirt stretching taut over its broadness. He sucks down big, audible breaths to steady himself, face slack. Sam rests his hands over the silver longhorn buckle of his belt, pinkies tracing over the rough grooves to distract him from this churning in his stomach. It could just be the alcohol. He’s not been oblivious to the all the lingering touches and heated gazes these past few months working close together, but it could just be the alcohol. 

In the back of his head, he can almost feel the phantom sting of his momma slapping him there, warning him that you don’t shit where you eat and he’d be stupid to do what his body is screaming for him to. 

You’re the annoying girl that sent him sprawling into a cow patty, trained the dogs to circle him in the field and nip at his heels. You’re his boss’ daughter and his friend, an important one at that. 

You’re... somethin’ and when he’s with you the sky is bluer and the clouds make these funny shapes with resemblances the two of you never agree on. 

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Sam holds his arms up in surrender, rolled up sleeves unravelling on his forearms. 

It doesn’t stop your approach like he’d hoped it would. The longer this goes on, and the closer you get — he can feel hot breaths fanning over his face now, raising goosebumps beneath his stubble — the weaker his resolve gets. 

You’re right in front of him, warm hands squeezing his shoulders and a glint in your eyes that means trouble. “Do I win a prize, cowboy?”

Sam’s knees buckle just the slightest and it’s your hands wandering down the taut muscles at his sides that keep him standing. When you call him that he feels all weird inside, like any nickname before that was wrong and any after wouldn’t even register for him. 

A sharp hiss leaves Sam’s lips, jolting as a cool few fingers experimentally drift beneath the hem of his shirt, smoothing over his hot skin. He says your name in warning, low and pleading. 

“Sam...” you whisper, knocking his hat off with the tipping brim of your own, a pleading look of your own burning straight through him and settling in the erratic beat of his chest. He struggles to focus on anything other than your fingers splayed out on his torso, thumbs fiddling with the waistband of his boxers peaking out above his jeans, nails scratching just light enough to leave his skin crawling. 

God, what did you say? He can’t remember, clenching fists to avoid reaching out and touching you, all warm against him. And why is he even fighting it? 

Hesitantly, Sam places a calloused hand on your waist, squeezing softly when your nose rubs against his. 

His mouth falls open stupidly, eyes tightly held shut because he’s afraid if he opens them you’ll disappear and he’ll be passed out on the floor at home. He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching after you like he had earlier that day — a while now — but his gaze always seems to find you, same as the few good dreams he has nowadays. 

“I want you.”

“Shit,” Sam grumbles, slapping a hand over the back of your neck and crushing your lips to his. 

The clunk of your hat hitting the stable floor is like the starting shot of a frantic race of tongue and teeth. Sam scrambles to grab handfuls of whatever he can, pulling you closer by the belt loops of your jeans. Your hands curl around his shoulders and push his shirt off, as he pulls you up to straddle him. Sam’s hands shoves themselves down the back of your jeans, stuck between scratchy denim and the soft flesh of your ass. 

Your legs gets tangled with his along the bag of his thighs, the two of you stumbling around for balance. It’s found, of course, in the hay.

Sam’s never felt so desperate, so starved for touch that even with you in his arms it’s not enough. He craves more, wants more of you all the time. He wants you as a coworker, a friend, a lover. 

Everything you have to offer, he’ll take. 

On his back and staring up at you with pathetic, lovesick eyes, Sam blindly tugs off his shirt, distracted by the smooth expanse of skin you reveal to him in your own undressing. He leans forward to press kisses against the cups of your bra, palming at the flesh of your torso and along the ridges of your back, eyes black with hungry want. 

Something whiny joins the harsh breathing that fills the quiet barn and it takes a second for Sam to realize that it had come from him. You slanted your hips over his, slowly rutting the rough fronts of your jeans against each other and Sam can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by his soft moans. 

“You can’t help it, huh?” you murmur against his lips, rocking back and forth over his groin, “My Cowboy, always watching me with those pretty brown eyes.”

Sam chokes out a wrecked moan, desperately gripping your biceps as you create a burning friction between you, weight bearing down on his hard dick. You’re riding him for all he’s worth and christ, he thinks he might just die. 

“So soft for me, right? Even when I’m being mean...”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, your sweet tongue in his mouth maybe, but Sam has never been so utterly helpless. He doesn’t rightly know what to do with you, if there even is anything he can do. 

One particular roll of your hips has him quivering beneath you, reaching up to bring you down to his lips in a searing kiss. The grind has him seeing stars, crushing your shoulders in his hands as he fights back the rumbling burn in the base of his torso. Sam curses and you tut him, biting into his shoulder with a teasing smile, humming in appreciation as he stuffs his hands into the back pocket of your jeans and urges you on faster. 

Forward and back, a familiar rocking motion that he’s watched intently anytime the two of you ride out together, Sam’s a moaning mess. You drag your hot crotch against his again and again, he can hardly do anything but pant into your mouth as it presses little affectionate kisses.

“Please...” he begs.

You smile down at him, running your hands under his chin and pinching softly. He loves that smile, real soft and teasing, and just for him. Does whatever he can to draw that smile out. 

And then it’s a full out gallop, fast and hard down on his throbbing jean-covered cock and it’s too late before Sam realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he struggles to stop you, hands futile in their attempts to halt your hips. You don’t stop and the knowing glint in your eyes tells him you know exactly what it is you’re doing. It’s building, burning in his gut, thick thighs tensed, chasing after it in acquiescence. 

Sam comes with a shout, painting the crotch of his jeans dark and wet with cum. He lays an arm over his eyes, practically hyperventilating as you ease him down with a few slow rolls over him. 

“I-” Sam doesn’t know what to say. Is there anything to say? He’s embarrassed and in awe of himself, of you. “I promise that’s never happened before.”

“You’re somethin’ Sam Wilson,” there’s a laugh in your voice, but Sam doesn’t feel like it’s at him and what he views as his failings. You pat his still heaving chest with a satisfied smile, the thumb of your other hand tapping lightly over his plump bottom lip. 

Sam grins, relieved that you’re still you. Understanding where it counts and a real fucking ball buster. Literally. 

“Not that I don’t love a good roll in the hay as much as the next guy... but, let’s do dinner before next time?” He’s a bit shy in his asking, focused on where his thumb traces the skin you your thigh still splayed out over his. 

You smile and nod, biting your lip and Sam’s a goner if it wasn’t already abundantly clear, “Gotta make it up to me somehow.”

Sam groans and throws you off of him, dipping you into a pile of hay he’s glad you disappear in. 

-

[yinses]

red velvet | gustave ‘doc’ kateb x reader

this wasn’t a request but im trash for doc and really any combat medic. its my sin and i refuse to repent for it. amen. some good ole mature content for my man. 

“it’s-it… still feels degrading.”

you held back a laugh, still finding humor in the absolute seriousness the combative physician took in such a casual display of sexual dominance. frankly, most of your concern had been geared towards him berating the unprofessionalism of your offer in a public setting . but you should have known the frenchman would be more attentive to the unequal power display. 

but in a way you needed this, craved the opportunity to lose sense of the world for once in your chaotic career. upon trading the cushion trauma position at an esteemed center in paris, you had in turn given up the freedom of careless actions. it was imperative to your very existence to always be on guard and conscientious of your environment. 

so yes, at the expense of your reverence, as gustave seemed more perturbed by than you, literally nothing would please you more than the simple act of resting comfortably under his desk for a few hours with your lips sealed firmly around his cock.

with effort, you managed to work the exasperated smile off your face. “i want this because i trust you. you’ll enjoy it too.”

his lips curled downward, but he didn’t deny that obvious fact. still managing genuine resistance, the frenchman reluctantly allowed you to corral him behind his desk and into his chair. you knew for a fact that he had a long day of sorting charts and micromanaging the wellness profiles for the incoming recruits. it was a long, drawn out, and mundane task that could use some liveliness. truly a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

eventually you won out, a small liberty he granted you over his authority when not under direct supervision as the attending. your heart warmed at the sweet gesture of his offered pillow that you used to cushion your rump as you leaned into his thigh. gustave continued to be characteristically doting as he cupped your face and drew circles against the corner of your mouth with his thumb. your lips parted easily, tongue curling around the appendage and suckling firmly. pleased with the full body shudder that vibrates against your chin propped against him. 

you parted with a kiss against its pad,”just relax, gus.”

with his nod of consent, you finally began the task of losing the fastenings of his issued pants and drawing out his cock. the earthy musk was already comforting as your nose brushed against the darker skin. fisting your own hands at your sides, you fed yourself the length of him with the ease his flaccid state permitted. this wasn’t meant to be a blow job but a similar ode to your oral fixation. 

above, gustave groaned softly as you rolled the flat of your tongue against the underside to wet it properly so that it wouldn't stick uncomfortably to the sides of your mouth. you continued to mouth sloppily until a collection drool threatened to seep from the corners. 

likely combined with the hazard of doing this while at work, it only took a few kitten licks to transition him to a half hard state. but you planned for this to last in the long run and not make it uncomfortable for either party. so while you still had the ability to, you swallowed him down until the tip nudged your throat. settling into a near meditative state to even out your breathing came almost second nature to you now as you leaned into his thigh. 

unable to truly unwind without assurance, gustave checked in once more. “are you sure you’re alright?”

your eyes crinkled as you hummed, giving him more than what was asked. 

this was what you wanted. a world lost behind the heavy weight of your lover filling you and stretching your mouth wide. this close and intimate it made it difficult to think about anything other than the scent and heat of his person. occasionally the scratch of pen or rustle of paper would rouse you out of your pensive state but before alertness could trickle in, his fingers would curl into your hair and scratch at your scalp. 

time escaped you without effort as the two of you relaxed. past worries melted away, gustave began to derive a thrilling enjoyment from the leisure of your warm embrace without the usual vigorous movements. it surprised him how less strenuous it was for him to read through file after file. by this point, he would have been near ready to nurse a migraine but within this sort of proximity he found himself working through most of his workload without the strain. you provided to be a welcomed distraction, just active enough with an sporadic undulation of your tongue or languid swallow to pull him from the depths of his thoughts. he felt as though he could survive the entirety of his day like this. 

of course, that all shattered at the echoing knock against his door. startled, gustave all but tried to shove you off but by the time you drowsily submerged from the depths of your mind, the door was already opening. the perpetrator had taken gustave’s quiet hiss as permission to entrance and you silently thanked the person who decorated his office for choosing a well enclosed desk. as long as you remained soundless, your presence would remain unnoticed. 

unable to roll back and stand, gustave's only option was to tuck his chair towards the desk. a thoughtless act that forced his cock further down your oriface. squeezing your eyes shut, you fought the urge to choke and tried to tug back the strings of tranquility. 

overhead, you were pleased to know you had been interrupted by one of the office staff and not a fellow operator. a civilian with enough clearances to handle sensitive documents was nothing compared to a vigilant agent. 

“dr. kateb, i just need your signature for the next supply order.”

the hand not curled in your tresses, apparently waved attendant forward based on the incoming steps. his voice was pitched deep, heavy under the influence of lust as he did the best to interact without alluding to the inappropriate actions being conducted. 

“thank you, sir. is there anything else i can help you with? some tea or coffee perhaps?”

the strength of his grip began to tease the threads of pain and you wondered what his face looked like now. certainly not too frightening if the person had enough gall to continue to ask questions. turning your head the best you could, you burred your nose into his apex and let out a quiet hiss.

not completely unheard, as gustave caught on and loosened his hold. “no, that’s all. i'm about finished up now. thank you.”

the second the door closed, gustave was rolling back eyes widen with thinly veiled panic. you really shouldn’t have found the sight so humorous on a man who’d faced worse in battle. 

“i can’t continue with this,” he shrilled under his breath. you figured as much given his solemnity, but that didn't speak for the desire still glossing over his gaze. it wouldn’t be fair to put all your work to waste. 

you agreed yet your hand still came up to stoke at him. he was nothing like his past disposition, now hard and leaking considerably. you couldn’t just leave him so vulnerable after he’d been so considerate to your needs. you got what you wanted, now it was only fair to return the same courtesy. 

you gave the head a quick lick in concede. “sure, just let me-”

you didn't offer a window for complaint, already rolling into a shallow bob. it didn't take much to encourage him to start thrusting in turn, the way your hands cupped the backs of his knees gave more than enough instruction. the salvia you meant to utilize in your favor, spilled messily out of your mouth as gustave pressed forward again and again. it truly was the best approach as the aged gentleman came shortly after, timing it almost perfectly to when his cock reached the deepest, cum shooting straight down your throat without needing to swallow. 

what you assumed was his elbows, hit the desk above your head as he sagged into his seat. you cleaned what you could of the softened cock before yielding. you scuttled from underneath the desk, one hand wiping the excess mess from your face.

breathing heavily, you leaned back against the desk and gave him a cum stained smile. “see, told you it would be worth it.”

gustave was certain that you had managed to pin yet another nail in his coffin.