#i LOVE this horrible wet cat of a man

[heyitsspaceace]

i haven't played genshin seriously in MONTHS, i log on yesterday think to myself, eh i have guaranteed pity coming up, i kinda want wriothesley, what can like 5 pulls do?

so i pull two three star weapons, then c6 my sayu, then another 3 star weapon. i think to myself, eh just one more to build pity, what's the harm in that it's not like i'm gonna get- WHAT THE FUCK??? WHY IS IT GOLD??? and lo and behold what appears on my screen??? THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!

I HAVE BEEN WAITING. 2 FUCKING YEARS FOR THIS MOTHERFUCKER????? I SPENT ACTUALLY MONEY TRYING TO GET HIM THE FIRST TIME???? AND HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO COME HOME NOW???

don't get me wrong i am THRILLED i have loved this little freak for AGES and he's FINALLY here but BROOOOO THE ONE TIME I DIDN'T REALLY EVEN WANT YOU???? he's the goofiest of all time i'm so glad he's home i've had shit for him stockpiled for YEARS

also i think it's funny that the primos i used to pull for him i got in the battle event that's going on right now, that feels pretty on brand for him.

[kanotototori]

just wanna say i love father noragami

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[musical-chick-13]

Getting a little tired of seeing all these posts solely being about male characters, so to recap:

*She’s awful to you. Not to me, not if it’s her.

*She’s messy and weird and horrible and did so many things wrong, but it’s okay because I forgive her.

*She is a babygirl and is my special-est little lady.

*SHE is my emotional support murderer.

*“The love of my life!” I exclaim, about the scariest and/or meanest fictional woman you’ve ever seen.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Shower of Gold

Pairing: Dad!Coriolanus Snow x Mom!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Mother

Warning: warming up to parenthood

Word Count: 2874

6 of 7

When Aurelius Hyperion Swansworth-Snow was born, Coriolanus’ world just got a whole lot bigger.

He never thought he could love another the same as he loved you.  But he did.

Little Harper, as you would call him, looked exactly like his father.  The same golden curls and piercing blue eyes.  His cheeks were fat and pink as he babbled.

And just like his father, Little Harper loved you very much.

You have never been without Harper.  To the point that it often puts a strain on the intimate relationship you had with your husband.  But one pointed stare from you would let Coriolanus loosen his possessive hold on your waist, often looking like a kicked puppy as he sulks the entire night, sleeping with his back turned to you.

But with a wet kiss and a chubby hand slapping his cheek awake in the mornings, his brooding dissipates and he gladly accepts his little boy’s affections.

“Good morning, daddy.”  You say as your son claps his hands excitedly.

Coriolanus blinks his eyes as he looks at you, the sleepy fog is yet to leave his head but it does not stop him from seeing just how beautiful you are.  You are still in your sleeping gown, your hair disheveled, and your eyes still droop with sleepiness.  He believes it was at moments like this when he loves you the most.  When his mind is empty and your smiling face is the first thing that enters his head.

“Good morning.”  He drawls and he turns to his son who was nibbling at his deltoid that was the size of the kid’s head.  He looks at the string of saliva that webbed on his arm.  “That’s unsanitary.”

You scoff at your husband, cooing at your baby the next second.  “He just misses his daddy.  Don’t you, Harper?”

Harper looks at you curiously, bringing his chubby fist to his mouth.  You lay your head to Coriolanus’ chest as you coo at him.  Harper was unsure what you were doing but the happiness on your face brought forth a toothless smile from him.

He receives a smooch to his cheek from you and absentmindedly, Coriolanus puts his large hands to your baby’s face.

Your baby’s eyes cross as he keeps his eyes on your husband’s enormous hand.

Before you can ask what he is doing, Coriolanus gently pushes him down to the pillow that supports his back. 

You shriek in mortification, your baby blinks at the ceiling, not quite processing what has happened.  You swat at your husband’s chest as you get up to help your son to sit back up.

“I am so sorry, baby.  Daddy’s such a horrible man, isn’t he?”  You coo to your baby who is yet unsure whether he should be laughing or crying.  “Daddy, you bully!”  You accuse him as you pat your baby’s leg gently.

He only looks at you blankly, making you sigh and lean down to plant a kiss to his awaiting lips.  He always gets so cranky in the early mornings.

“Now, get up.”  You say as you rub his chest.  Coriolanus grunts as he gets out of bed, stretching like a cat as he yawns.  He ruffles Harper’s blonde curls before leaving you to take a shower.

He was already halfway through his coffee when you arrived with Harper now freshly bathed.

Coriolanus looks at Harper as you place him on the high chair. 

“We have a meeting today.”  Coriolanus reminds you as he keeps his eyes trained on his son.

You nod.  “Yes, I studied the report last night.”

“Harper?”  He sips his coffee as he reads the recent reports about the new District 12 mayor.

You chuckle knowingly as you nuzzle your nose against Harper’s.  “Little Harper’s coming with mommy, of course.”  He giggled as his fingers were quick to grab at your clothes.

Coriolanus smiles in his seat after he stole a glance at you.

“One wail and he’s out.”

“Oh, honestly!”  You have taken offense for your boy but Coriolanus challenges you with his own stern gaze.  “So mean.”  You mutter as you start feeding Harper with baby food.

Your husband puts the papers away and starts his breakfast.  “I just did not want you to look unprofessional.” 

“Corio?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

His eyes narrow before he returns to his breakfast.

A scowl was painted on your face the entire breakfast and you refused to talk to him anymore.  Responding with nods and silence to his attempt to start another conversation.

Coriolanus knows that he might have offended you deeply.

“Are you ready?”  He asks as you wipe Harper’s face with the bib.

You respond by getting up and scooping your son in your arms, your chin raised as you carry yourself with elegance.  The baby bag was waiting to be picked up by you in the corner but Coriolanus beats you to it.

He walks ahead of you, the baby bag slung on his shoulder and his briefcase on his other hand.  You quietly follow him, not acknowledging him when he opens the doors for you, one leading out of your mansion and the other to your car.

Coriolanus waits by the backseat, just next to Harper’s car seat.  He had to pick it personally.  It was heavily padded, bulky enough to put you at ease, knowing that your baby will be protected should anything happen.

“I’ll strap him in.”  He offers as he fixes the aviators resting on his nose as he looks past your head.

Coriolanus is a proud man, you understand this is his way of apologizing.

You kiss Harper’s nose and you place him in your husband’s secure hold.

In the meantime, you buckle yourself in the passenger seat.

Coriolanus soon joins you in front and he starts the car after securing his seatbelt.

The silence was loud, had it not been for Harper’s babbles, you would have been tempted to turn the radio on.  You choose to review your itinerary for the day when a warm hand sneaks to your thigh and you feel Coriolanus’ thumb brushing it in a soothing manner.

“Apologize properly.”  You quip.

“Y/N please.”  He says tiredly.

“No.  I want you to say you are sorry.”

He wets his lips with his tongue and his jaw tightens as he keeps his eyes on the road, the leather cladding the wheel creaks under his grip.

When he refuses to do it, you return to your schedule.

“I’m sorry.”

You keep your eyes on the piece of paper attached to your planner and your husband groans as he leans back in his chair, his head resting on the support. 

“I’m sorry for antagonizing our son.”  He squeezes your thigh.  “And for insulting you.  I know you are more than capable in balancing both your duties to Panem and our family.”

Finally, your rouge painted lips spread to a small smile.

“You are forgiven.”  You place your hand over his.  The glint of the rings on your finger easing his anxiousness a bit more.

Harper yaps and Coriolanus grins.  “Yes, I know.  I’m sorry, I’m not stealing mommy.”

You press a knuckle to your lips, not wanting to laugh as your son takes quick offense in being left out.  You try to keep your voice down as you turn to your husband.  “I’ll make time for us later, I promise.”

He brings your hand to his lips to kiss and quickly lets you go as Harper yaps angrily.

The moment you enter the presidential mansion, one you use only for official business, Harper understands that he cannot be fussy anymore.  He was seated on your lap, nibbling on a fruit pacifier as a man talked while pointing at the bright square behind him.  The moving objects greatly entertained the baby on your lap.

Harper recognizes your voice and looks up.  He pulls the pacifier from his mouth when your tone sharpens.  The boy’s blond crinkle together as his lips jut out when the unknown man responds to you with anger.

The other people in the room also seem to be angry at the person standing and Harper leans back on your stomach knowing that his mommy is not alone.  But the man is suddenly pointing at you and to him, the poor innocent boy.  Harper grunts and looks at his father angrily.

“Da!”

Coriolanus, who was leaning to the side with his legs crossed, looked at his son.  He brings a finger to his lips and Harper huffs.

“You are failing to see things objectively.”  Coriolanus says to the man who was starting to sweat under the disapproving eyes of everyone present in the room.  “The Lady did not dismiss your idea because she was biased to infants.  Your idea was dismissed as administering a vaccine to the younger population of Panem without having it thoroughly tested could be catastrophic.  We are talking about large scale mortality.”

The man laughs and Harper presses himself closer to you, disturbed by the behavior.

“Why do you care, Mister President?  They’re just Districts!”

Coriolanus nods, finally understanding the argument of this man.  He had suspicions but he wanted the man to say it. 

“Districts.”  Coriolanus grins sardonically.  “Do you plan to instigate a second rebellion?”

The man is tongue-tied, he makes wild gestures but fails to keep his argument.  “Exaggeration.”  He laughs nervously.

“When their children start dying off, will they not fight back?”  Coriolanus asks.  “And a rebellion does not happen overnight.”  He adds.  “It is because of the piling up missteps made by men like you.”  Harper slams his chubby hand on the desk to show he is on his father’s side.  “Thank you, Harper.  And who will suffer when that happens?”

The man looks at his feet in shame.  The backlash could be severe.  The crops and livestock sent to the Capitol could be poisoned.  The Capitol could be powered down when all the system shuts off.

Countless possibilities and consequences could take place after one wrong decision.

“But I understand that this vaccine is important.”  Coriolanus sighs.  “Send it back to the lab.  Study it further for possible adverse reactions.  I will not give the greenlight until you are able to tell me the mechanism of action of this vaccine without looking at your notes.”

As the men file out of the room, you sit Harper on the hard wood table as you clean up your desk.  “I cannot believe the cabinet let this man reach your office.  He was unprepared.”  You say and Harper continues to chew on his pacifier, the crushed cherries inside needs replacing.

Coriolanus agrees with you and scoops Harper off the table, the little boy draws his arms and chin over his father’s shoulder to check if you are close by.  “Shall we go, my love?”

You nod and you stand on your tippy toes to press a kiss on Harper’s cheek as you lean on Coriolanus for support.

The next event is the annual summit, where Coriolanus is expected to give a speech involving the latest reports and advancements made by Panem’s Capitol based research facility and what plans lie ahead. 

In the ceremony, the Lady Justice was often a symbolic figure that was ever present.  Only this time, a sword seems to have gone missing in the smaller statue that is kept in the Presidential mansion’s reception hall.

“This is a disgrace.”  Your husband tells the staff who were in charge of the events.  “How could something so essential be misplaced?”

Harper was getting fussy in your arms at the sight of his father so agitated.

It seemed rather insignificant but having it missing is a blatant display of disrespect.

Your mind races for possible solutions.

You can talk to the media to cut the view of the Lady Justice.

Or perhaps you can have the entire statue be carried out of the room, no that would cause too much commotion.

And then it hits you.

“Corio.”  You call and he reluctantly heads your way.  “The sword in your office.” 

Harper pulls at Coriolanus’ tie and nibbles.  Your husband gently pulls the fabric, ignoring the wet stain as he processes your words.

“I think it might be the perfect size.”  He rubs his chin.  “I’ll go send someone to get it.”

You put a firm hand on his chest and he pauses.

“Harper and I will come get it.”  You smile at him reassuringly.  “It’s only a few floors up.  And the peacekeepers stationed in your office will let me through and out with no hitches.”

Coriolanus wanted to protest but you were right.

You would be most efficient for the task.

“I can watch Harper.”  He offers but you shake your head.

“Relax for now.  Harper is going to help mommy get the sword.”

Coriolanus smiles tiredly and he presses his forehead against yours, his large hand placed on Harper’s back protectively.

“Da.”  Harper calls and Coriolanus chuckles and snaps his fingers, an Avox places a pair of aviators to his hands, one he previously wore, and he puts it on Harper.  

You often do this when you expect a lot of camera flashes.  You would hate to overwhelm your baby.

“Still can’t believe that’s his first word when he’s such a momma’s boy.”  Your husband says, making you smile affectionately.

You give him one last look before you rush out of the room with Harper in your arms.  Camera flashes from the reporters follow after you.

The guests are already arriving and the main media companies are setting up their equipment.  You have no time to lose.

Harper was such a good kid, not fussing as he clung to you when you rushed to the office of your dear husband.

As expected, the peacekeepers stationed outside the doors let you through without even asking about your business to be in the office.

You easily spot the sword on the side.  It hasn’t been removed from the position you first saw it in back at the inauguration of Coriolanus as President.

“You beauty.”  You smile as you easily grab it from the bracket mounted on the wall.  Harper made an attempt to touch it but you were quick enough to pull it away from him.  “This is dangerous, sweetheart.”  You easily slip it inside the scabbard as you refuse to take any chances for Harper.

The peacekeepers stationed outside the presidential office were oriented about what happened and gladly reopened the door for you and Harper.

People moved out of the way as they saw the sword on your hand and the baby on the other.  You have your chin held high as you enter the hall.  Coriolanus stopped mid sentence while talking to Strabo Plinth at the sight of you.

“Oh, good Heavens!”  Mrs. Plinth exclaims and approaches you with concern.  You looked rather dangerous with the enormous weapon in your hand.  Harper smiles brightly when he sees her and he raises his arms, wanting to be picked up by the woman.  Mrs. Plinth cups her mouth, touched by the little boy’s behavior.  You gladly hand her your son.

Grandmotherhood is a privilege stolen from her.

Mr. Plinth was smiling at you when you approached him and your husband.

“She saves the day.”  He tells Coriolanus who nods with a proud look in his eyes. 

You give Coriolanus the sword and he steps on the ladders to place the sword on the empty hand of the Lady Justice.

“Justice is restored.”  The former President, Maximinius Ravinstill, claps his hand and the rest of the crowd rises from their seats to applaud you and Coriolanus.  Justice was not something that could have easily been lost after the disappearance of a sword but The Lady Justice was an important symbolic figure not just to Corso but to Panem.

That night, you are in your shared bedroom.  You are resting your back on the headboard, your tired back being cushioned by enormously large pillows while your son has fallen asleep from nursing on your ample bosom.

You are humming a soft tune, your feet moving to the melody when Coriolanus enters.  He is yet to change his clothing as he was still in his dress pants and shirt that has a few buttons undone.

“Your grand entrance overshadowed the event.”  He grins as he shows you the paper.  There in the headlines, a picture of you with Harper held on one arm and sword on the other.

“Oh, Corio.”  You frown apologetically.  “I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”  He scoffs, the smile remaining on his face.  “Everybody loved it!  They forgave the errors I mentioned as they were so enamored by you.”

You are not certain how to respond but he shows you the photo once more.

“Look at Harper.”  He says excitedly.  “Grandma’am sent a photo of mine when I was still a toddler and he looks exactly just like me.”

You are not certain if Coriolanus was aware of the smitten look on his face but you dare not point it out as you listen to him talk about the photos and Harper.

Coriolanus might act indifferent to his son at times but he cannot deny the fact that Harper has him wrapped around his chubby little finger.

Quest for Happiness

News Article

More on Harper's name in the comments

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König Rarely Gets Sick, But When He Does...

Inspired by this ask that I was given earlier.

Okay so let's be clear, König grew up in a great home, as mentioned before in this post. He also hated school. So König grew up to absolutely master the art of pretending to be sick. He did the whole 'making fake vomit with oatmeal and orange juice' trick at 5am just to place it around his bed for his mother to find when she woke him up the next morning. I just want to point this out, as one kid with anxiety to another, if you could get out of school as a kid you did (or at least I did because I was a wuss). So, if König just didn't feel up to school on that particular day, he'd pretend to be sick and spend the day being doted upon by his sweet, oblivious and ever-loving mother. He was such a little shit as a kid.

But when König is actually sick, it's a mess. Oh my lord is it ever a mess. He's disgusting. He's a snot and/or vomit factory (almost always both). He refuses to shower or bathe so he gets sweaty and gross and he'll lay in one spot all day, and when you peel him out of it, he leaves a damp patch behind as an unpleasant reminder of his sickness. He's genuinely terrible.

But he's your terrible mess and you need to care for him.

Read below the cut for a more detailed explanation of what König is like when sick.

The worst part of dealing with König is that he can't pretend he's not sick. He used to pretend to be sick, now he tries to pretend he's not and it fails miserably. When König actually gets sick there's no hiding it.

See, König doesn't get the common cold. What he gets are fevers. Bad fevers. There's been a few times that he's had to go to hospital to get his temperatures in check. He's gotten dangerously close to getting seizures because he was so determined to not take care of himself. Thankfully, this only happens at most once a year (two or three if you have kids in preschool) but other than that, he's healthy as a horse.

The thing is, while he's being gross and smelly and awful, he's a big suck for you. He's no longer a man when he gets a fever, he becomes little more than a big wet cat. Absolutely, genuinely terrible. He will flop all over the place like a wet fish and moan terribly. He gets grumpy and angry over nothing, but instead of being in his right mind and having the sense to properly communicate himself, he'll just make bitter comments and curse under his breath as though he never left the barracks. Not at you, mostly at himself. He gets incredibly upset about falling ill and needing the support of others. You'll have to work to keep up his self esteem when he gets sick.

He's a belligerent little bug all the way through. He'll avoid moving like the plague because he knows if he tries to stand that the room will start spinning. He also knows that he can't ask you for everything, so he'll sulk miserably for hours before asking for your help to get up. He is absolutely horrible about asking for your help. At this rate, you'll need to frequently check in on him or else he'll be writhing under the covers when you next check on him. He really doesn't want to overwhelm you, but he takes this to an extreme. He just wants to make things easier for you. He hates being a burden, or at the very least, he hates being weak.

He appreciates the frequent check-ins because he always has something he wants. Maybe a glass of water, maybe a new bucket, maybe even a new book to read. He's a needy man sometimes. Out in the field he has to do everything himself, so having someone there to look after him means the world to him. He'll never be able to thank you enough for what you do for him.

He's a big fan of Vick's Vaporub and slathers himself in Tiger Balm like he's trying to slide through a straw (and yes it's that disgustingly awful). He will often ask for you to apply these balms to him if you can. He also will often put a bit of vaporub under his nose to help keep his nose from chaffing. He absolutely hates how he needs so many tissues. You'll find him sniveling in the middle of the night, covered by a mountain of crumpled tissues piled over empty boxes.

König often ends up making a nest wherever he plops down. If he needs to go somewhere, he's draped in a blanket, carrying his sick bucket, hauling a box of tissues under one arm along with a book, his phone, and anything else he thinks he might possibly need. He leaves a bit of a snail trail of discarded tissues and dropped items wherever he goes. He is a little bit of a pig, really. But you can't be mad at him. If he bends over, the vertigo might make him fall over. He does try to stay neat, but when he's this sick it's hard to be clean.

In the end, the main thing that helps König is you being there. If you're there to keep him clean, change his sheets, feed him broth soups and light meals, he'll be happy. Dote on him with kisses on his forehead and tuck him in when he sleeps. If he's really sick, maybe you can read that history book he's reading for him. If you can do his chores for a few days, he'll pay you back when he can. He cannot possibly express how much he appreciates all you do for him.

He'll give you space if you want it. If you get disgusted by being around sick people, he won't force you to care for him or do something you can't manage, but if you're willing to hold him he'll be elated. He loves being close to you. He loves being pampered by you, and he'll remember these moments fondly. The last time someone treated him so well was when he was sick as a little boy. Having you here and caring for him makes him feel safe in a way he hasn't felt in decades.

[userlando]

sweet like honey — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader [4.1k] summary: spending your honeymoon in southern italy is as best as it can get. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & fluff, semi-public sex, established marriage. a/n: first f1 fic I’ve posted so hope y’all like this!! as always, dedicated to my darling @babyleclerc​, whom i love very much. i hope this piece of fluffy smut will lift your spirits <3

You felt disoriented, mind all muddled and slow like you’d taken your brain out and ran it through sludge. The process of waking up from your deep slumber wasn’t painful, per se, but you weren’t too happy with being woken up from one of the best naps you’d ever had.

There was a noise somewhere and it took you another few seconds to register the press of lips across your face, one after the other, quick and brief before they moved to the next patch of skin. The noises you were hearing were the exaggerated lips against flesh, and you scrunched your nose up against the onslaught of kiss attacks on your face; Twisting your head and finally opening your eyes to stare at your attacker.

Daniel’s wide smile was the first thing to fill your vision, a perfect picture of bliss and mischief and you let out a laugh at his ridiculous wake up call when your mind finally caught up to the situation you found yourself in.

“You’re insufferable.” You grumbled, voice thick with sleep and Danny tilted his head to the right, eyes never leaving your face as you huffed out a breath and gazed around the room; A little disoriented.

“And yet, you still married me.” He swiped a few stray hairs from your collarbone, bending his head to place a kiss against the delicate skin. “You’re contradicting yourself, Mrs. Ricciardo.”

You let out a hum, a close-lipped smile sneaking up on your face at the name he’d called you. It was new, just one day old, but it still managed to make your chest clench horribly tight; The feeling so incredibly new but welcome. It was still hard to believe that you’d gotten married, laying in the hotel bed on your honeymoon, nonetheless, with your husband.

It was considerably darker now than it had been when you landed. Having sat through a flight from Perth to Italy and completely messed up your time zones in the process. It wasn’t really a surprise when you went straight to the hotel, falling into bed with one another and…

Your gaze drifted to Daniel’s face, your own face heating up a little at the look he was giving you. Like he knew what you were thinking of, like he was proud of the bruises on your hips and the hickeys on your chest.

A little groan left your lips when you shifted in bed, feeling the ache in every part of your body and you would’ve stretched like a cat if Danny wasn’t laying on top of you. Leave it to the six foot something man to act like he was half your size, curling up in your lap any chance he could get.

“What time s’it?” You asked, bringing your hands up to run through the messy locks of his hair. They were damp, almost wet, and you briefly wondered how long you’d been out for, for him to quietly sneak out of bed and have a shower.

It wasn’t a difficult feat though, you always slept like a rock.

“Fuck if I know.” He squinted in the direction of where his phone was thrown on the table, hauling himself up your body so his face was hovering over yours. “It’s late.”

“Good observation.” You complimented him, with only a hint of sarcasm that he picked up on.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss and it instantly ignited something in your body. It was a wonder, how two years together didn’t tamper the sheer insatiable need you felt toward him.

It had been like that from the start, having met him through mutual friends and he hadn’t been subtle in the least, but neither had you. You weren’t immune to his charm, immediately being drawn to his big smile, dark eyes and tall figure. He had a natural boyish charm to him, his humor matching yours that instantly reeled you in. It wasn’t a surprise to any one of your friends when you’d announced that you two were dating, receiving looks that screamed ‘is that supposed to be news?’

From then on, you’d been so drawn to each other that you could barely stay away from him. You couldn’t even say no when he asked for you to join him during race weekends, sticking by him and being his pillar when it was needed.

It had been a little rough when he announced his retirement, but you’d found your feet on the ground together and he slowly found his spark again in other hobbies.

Your stomach gave a low grumble that surely vibrated his and it made his lips smile against yours, teeth clacking gently when you both grinned.

“Oh, angry one, aren’t you?” He glanced down at your tummy and you gave him a slap on the shoulder.

“Not my fault that you’re not feeding me.” You wriggled a little until he got the memo, rolling off of you with a groan. A wistful, playful sigh left your lips. “I don’t even know why I married you.”

You weren’t even looking at him, but you could almost feel his eyes widening as he stared at you in mock belief. A startled squeal left your lips when you felt his arms circle your waist, dragging you back into bed with a force that almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

The sound of your giggles filled the room, and Danny would’ve been a little concerned that it was nearing three in the morning and you’d surely get a complaint, but he couldn’t find it in himself to even care when you were underneath him, dressed in nothing but a shirt and squirming as he tickled you. Your smile was radiant, so contagious that he couldn’t help but laugh along.

He didn’t let up until you were screaming mercy, slapping at his hands weakly until he relented and backed off. You were breathing heavily, inhaling as much air as you could with your eyes fastened on him. There was a weariness and distrust in your eyes that he couldn’t help but laugh at, like you were just waiting on him to resume his tickling any minute.

But he had other plans, dark eyes taking in your stretched out body under him and it wasn’t his fault that you looked so delectable, like something he could sink his teeth into and the urge of it was too great for him to resist inching the hem of your shirt up. Just enough to reveal the softness of your stomach.

You were holding your breath, watching him quietly scoot down and pressing light kisses just beneath your belly button. It was almost sinful, the way he looked as his eyes cast upwards to search your face for any reaction.

“Daniel.” Was all you could get out, overwhelmed by the need that suddenly flared up in your body.

Daniel hadn’t really thought much of his name in his life, but coming from your mouth, in that breathy voice of yours? It was his favorite word.

He kissed up your torso, making little humming noises in his throat that made you smile in secret and bring your hands to his hair. The tension evaporated into thin air when your stomach grumbled under his lips, making you groan as he pulled away with a loud laugh.

Who knew that a grumbling stomach could be such a cockblock?

“Let’s get some food into you, aye?” He pulled your shirt down and grabbed your hand to press a kiss into it. “Do you reckon I could charm them into bringing pizza up to the room at this hour?”

The question was ridiculous in itself, really. If anyone could charm someone into doing anything, it was your husband. He just had that natural ability.

“You can try.” You gave him a smile when he rolled his eyes playfully, getting off the bed to grab the telephone.

You used it as your opportunity to sneak off to the bathroom, shedding your clothes and stepping into the shower for a quick wash. The water was hot, exactly what you needed to wash away the multiple hours spent on an airplane and the shuttle car to get to the Amalfi Coast.

Your thoughts drifted to your wedding, recalling the moments of sheer joy you both had felt from the moment you woke up that morning. Nothing had been as easy to say as I do, because you’d known that Daniel was it for you from the moment you laid eyes on him.

It was cheesy to say or think that shit. Love at first sight, because it wasn’t, was it? It’s more like attraction at first sight than anything else, really. But you’d known it deep in your being.

The shower dragged on for longer than you intended to, stepping tentatively out into the room with your bathrobe tied tightly around your waist. Daniel came rounding the corner from the direction of the door, carrying a tray and looking proud of himself and it made you raise your eyebrows in amusement when he opened the mini fridge and slid a tub of ice cream. You didn’t mention that, surely it’d melt before you had a chance to eat it, because you were so focused on him remembering the small things.

It wasn’t really a surprise. Daniel was attentive and paid attention to the smallest details, but it never failed to make your heart squeeze painfully in adoration when he demonstrated just how intimately he knew you. Like with the ice cream. He knew you loved eating it after pizza and he’d gone out of his way to make sure that you had it on standby.

Daniel pulled the balcony door open, nodding his head for you to follow him outside and you did so, wordlessly.

The air outdoors was just on the brink of being too humid, but it felt nice against your wet skin as you settled into a chair in front of the dark haired man. You glanced out over the railing, where there was nothing but a long stretch of sea. It glimmered beautifully in the moonlight, small waves rippling the water. It was an unreal view, like taken out of a painting, one you couldn’t look away from.

“Do you fancy something stronger than soft drinks?” He asked as he set the food down and plated the sliced cheesy pizza.

“You can choose.” You told him softly, resisting the urge to grab him and hold him close when he pressed a kiss to your forehead before disappearing inside.

You marveled a little at the luck you’d had, meeting Daniel and getting to spend the rest of your life with him. The long journey you’d endured and been through, only to end up in Southern Italy on your honeymoon in your bathrobe and eating pizza on the balcony in the middle of the night.

There was also little concern of how you were supposed to get up in the morning. It was your vacation after all.

“Got you Prosecco.” He placed glasses down on the table, along with the bottle and you reached to pop it open.

Your late night dinner was spent chatting quietly as you ate, drinking one too many glasses of Prosecco and jumping from subject to subject. It was the happiest you’d felt and Daniel could tell.

Not only were you smiling from ear to ear, but you were starting to relax a lot more, looking beautiful where you sat across from him with your back leaned against the chair and legs crossed. He reached a foot out and nudged your calf, making you stop talking and glance at him from under your eyelashes. Coy, playful, flirty. The way you always got after a few drinks. Something flared up in his chest that felt a lot like love and he struggled to keep the smile off his face as he regarded you.

“Are you playing footsie with me, Ricciardo?” You asked, laughter in your voice as you reached an arm out to grab your glass.

“Gotta keep the spark going, don’t I?” His eyebrows jumped, making you laugh and tip the glass back so you could get the last dregs of the wine down your hatch.

He watched you set the glass down, eyebrows relaxing a bit as a contemplative look passed your eyes. It was so subtle that he almost missed it, but he’d known you for long enough to see it with the naked eye.

“You alright?” He asked, voice gentle and a little concerned.

You glanced up, eyes a little wide like you were surprised that he’d caught on to your wandering thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, I was just thinking of the last time we were here.”

The smile overtaking his face was inevitable as he caught up, mind immediately going back to a year ago. It had been right after Imola where the two of you had decided that renting a car and driving seven hours to the southern part of the country was a good idea. It had been a car ride filled with car games, belting out to music and even deep conversations before you arrived at your destination.

You had both spent four days in your hotel room, naked and not emerging from your space even once. Cold showers and room service had been your best friends.

It was also the week where he’d made it his life’s mission to memorise every single part of your body, what made you tick and what made you scream. Those were the days that you replayed in your mind whenever Daniel was away and you were alone in your bedroom.

“Anything specific?” He asked, after a moment's silence, voice dropping an octave.

His whole body felt like it was burning up when you uncrossed your legs, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The epitome of bashful but he knew you better than that.

“Just…” You paused for a small sigh. “Trying to remember some things.”

“Is that so?” He bit back a smile and opted to slip out of his chair, getting on his knees with a suppressed groan. He was getting old and his knees weren’t what they used to be.

Your eyes were big and searching, stuck on him as he settled himself between your legs.

He parted them, not with any real force because they splayed open without needing much encouragement and flicked a finger against the flap of your bathrobe.

“You need any help remembering?” He looked up at you from where was kneeled by your feet, and you’d never seen a prettier view - ocean view be damned.

You couldn’t open your mouth to form any words, settling for a mute nod instead and hoping he would allow that. Daniel’s face spread into a slow smile, gripping one leg in his hand to kiss it. He loved on the meat of your thigh, sucking small bruises into it before giving the other thigh the same treatment, winding you up so tight you thought you were about to snap. Like a rubber band being pulled to its limit.

“Daniel, please.” You pleaded, the want gripping your throat like a pair of hands. “More.”

Your husband didn’t say anything but he complied to your strangled request, dragging his bottom lip up your inner thigh until he was close enough to the apex of your legs to feel the heat against his face. He felt a pang of delight hit him straight in the chest when he pulled your bathrobe to the sides to reveal your center, wet and needy. His other hand reached down to grab himself over his shorts, anything to relieve the pressure building in his groin.

“God, baby, you’re so wet already.” He sounded breathless and the sight of his heavy lidded eyes made you warm all over. “My good girl loves when I bruise her up, hm?”

A whimper escaped you and you brought a hand up to cover your mouth, making Danny grin. His eyes roamed your body and he must’ve seen something that bothered him because his eyebrow ticked on his forehead, reaching forward to tug at the loose tie of your robe. It fell open to reveal your naked body and he made a noise in his throat.

You felt very exposed, holding back from covering yourself up because your balcony had a restricted view when it came to other rooms, and unless someone was having a reckless swim in the middle of the ocean, there was no one around to see you but Daniel himself.

And fuck, was he looking. His eyes didn’t stop flitting, like he wasn’t sure where to settle his eyes because the mere sight of you overwhelmed him. It was kind of astonishing, how even after years together, you managed to take his breath away.

“Stop staring.” You grumbled, a little bashful when he hadn’t said anything in a minute. He let his hands slide up your stomach before they grabbed at your breasts, feeling them in his palms before pinching your nipples until you keened in pleasure.

“That’s it.” He encouraged you as a moan escaped your mouth. “Louder, baby.”

You both were playing with fire because you weren’t exactly a quiet person, and Daniel knew this. But there was mischief written all over his face as he scooted closer, grabbing at your thighs to spread them further before he dove in.

He made a noise in his throat when your legs immediately closed, the feel of his tongue against your clit sending a zip of electricity up your spine. You let out a moan, thighs shaking when he started licking and sucking in earnest, opening his mouth wider to cover every inch of you. His tongue swiped between your folds, finding your hole to lick into and you slumped back against the backrest of the chair, tipping your head back when the feeling got to be too much.

“Taste so good.” Daniel pulled back an inch, swiping his tongue over your pussy once just to see your body lock up. “You look beautiful, baby. Look at me.”

You made a noise that sounded a lot like a whimper, shaking your head. Daniel gripped your thighs tighter, pads of his fingers digging into your flesh and it felt like enough of a warning for you to slump your head forward, settling your eyes on him., albeit a little hazily.

Daniel looked absolutely wrecked. There wasn’t a better word for it. His eyes were dark, mouth pink and rubbed raw, and fuck, your slick was glistening on his skin. You ran a hand through his curls, fighting to catch your breath that had been stolen from you, watching him push his head into your hand.

You knew what that small gesture meant, and you complied at the silent request in his eyes by pushing at his head to bring him back to where you were throbbing.

It was unholy, the way he sucked and licked, laving your skin with his tongue like it was an ice cream cone. His eyes were shut, lost in the feeling of your thighs hugging his head and the smell and taste of you surrounding him. Daniel couldn’t get enough, wondering exactly how many orgasms he could pull from you before the reception called up to tell you to keep it down.

The way your thighs started to shake was a clear indicator that you were nearing your end and he kept at it with the same pace as he heard your breathing pick up, his one hand reaching into his shorts and underwear to grip himself. It wouldn’t take much for him to join you, already feeling worked up from just tasting you on his tongue.

“Oh, oh fuck, Danny.” You swore and Daniel would’ve smiled at the way you seemed completely lost in your own pleasure, your little breathy moans climbing in octaves that surely echoed.

It didn’t deter him though, moaning and humming and it was the vibrations of his mouth that finally flung you over the edge you’d been teetering so nicely. You threw caution to the wind, screaming out your climax as your body locked up; Back bowing and hands grabbing at Daniel’s hair to keep him in place. The sting of his hair being pulled made him reach his end, a violent shudder going through his body as he shot his load into his shorts, undoubtedly messing them up but he couldn’t find it in himself to care; Eyes rolling and body jerking.

Daniel realized his jaw was aching when his senses slowly came back, but he stayed until your moans turned into soft whimpers, body relaxing and thighs falling off his shoulders. His eyes traveled up your body where it was displayed for him, a slight sheen of sweat on your skin that made you look otherworldly. He looked his fill, love filling his stomach like lead.

“You with me?” He asked, voice rough.

You let out a hum, a small mmm that made him laugh. It was good enough for him, and he groaned as he hauled himself up on shaky legs. Fuck, he felt like Bambi on ice and the situation in his shorts was wildly uncomfortable now that the deed was done.

He bent at the knees and closed your robe, tying it into a nice little bow and you picked your head up from where it had been hanging off the edge of the backrest; Eyes having been gazing at the sky.

You blinked at him, eyes still a little hazy but way more clearer than they’d been a moment ago, and Daniel grinned at your facial expression.

“You look beautiful.” He said, and your face transformed into a smile. Fuck, you looked as happy as he felt. “Now, I’ve already had my dessert, but we can go for some ice cream, right?”

You let out a breath of laughter, hand slapping lazily at his arm when he walked past you to get inside the room.

His singing voice drifted out onto the balcony, and you smiled fondly as you pulled your hair back from your face, grabbing the half-full bottle of Prosecco and switching seats to sit in the lounge couch with the padded seats instead.

You took a swig of the wine, letting out a small moan when it soothed your parched throat. He’d truly worked you up.

The man in question walked out a few seconds later, carrying the tub of ice cream and clad in a different pair of shorts. He’d switched his previous white t-shirt to a tank top, and you didn’t even try to hide your stare as you took in the broadness of his shoulders and the bulge of his arms.

Your man was truly a marvel.

“Up, up.” He prompted you and you scrambled up, letting him sit down and place the ice cream to the side.

Daniel blinked up at you, patting his thigh and you smiled as you sat back down, both legs on one side of his thighs and feet resting on the unoccupied space of the couch. You stretched your arm out to pick the tub up, laughing at the half-melted mess from being in a fridge rather than a freezer.

“I guess we took too long.” Danny laughed, winding an arm around you to steady your body and keep you from tipping over. “Come on then, let me have the first bite.”

You made a little noise, spoon slicing through the lukewarm ice cream and eating it. Daniel gasped in mock betrayal.

“S’mine.” You mumbled through a mouthful, skin by your eyes crinkling up when you smiled.

Daniel resisted the urge to swipe a thumb over it, having always found it horribly endearing how you’d smile with your whole face. He knew you were well and truly happy when the smile reached your eyes, just like it did now.

“What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine.” He said, opening his mouth comically big when you brought the spoon to his lips; Letting you feed him.

You laughed and waved the oval metal in his face.

“That’s not how the saying goes, baby.” You said and Daniel squinted his eyes in mock confusion, smile wide on his lips.

“No?” He laughed when you did, watching you feed yourself a mouthful of vanilla goods. “I could’ve sworn that’s how it went.”

“Fuck off.” You giggled with a shake of your head.

The banter went on for a while, sharing bites of ice cream in blissful silence and sneaking small and intimate kisses. The sun was starting to climb as the time went on, exchanging the moon and stars for the oranges and pinks.

Daniel looked ethereal where he was half snoozing beneath you, eyes blinking to keep them open and you swiped a strand of hair from his forehead; Leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the skin there.

If this was marital bliss, then you’d die a happy woman.

[a2l1y1]

Can you keep a secret?

ft. Bsf Ellie Williams.

Summary ➜ You’ve always had a crush on your best friend, but you never got the chance to tell her. Both of you have horrible love love relationships status, you knew this wouldn’t work.

Warnings ➜ a LOT of smut. Praising, degrading, use of strap, receiving, teasing, use of alchocol, drugs, cigarettes, making out etc. Idk, lesbian things🤗 .And obviously Ellie being a total loser.

disclaimer : I have a little bad grammar when it comes to explicit/smut writing, and generally my English sucks.

PS: A LOT OF WRITING HERE 😫!!!!

(And basically too much writing so I don’t wanna use my time into checking for any bad spelling or mistakes here, if you can’t understand then uh, try to? Anyways.)

You always had a crush on Ellie. Whether it was seeing and listening to her talk about dinosaurs or yapping about the galaxy, the stars, the planets, just Ellie being Ellie herself, you loved and admired her. You always visited her and stayed over at her apartment, which was calmly quiet except for the times that you would bring a karaoke and blasted off some music until three in the morning singing and yelling with Ellie.

Ellie loved ranting to you about her romantic love life. Which, obviously as a best friend you’d be glad and excited that she has enough trust in you to talk into extreme details about her horrible relationship status. But, as a Ellie being your forever and obsessive crush whom you’d literally drop in your knees if she asked, even as a joke? You felt like complete shit. Having to suck up your excessive amount of jealousy you would’ve gotten over every single girl who was lucky enough to kiss Ellie was insane. So right when you would’ve gotten the chance to be alone away from Ellie or finally at your apartment, your room or your car, you’d just start sobbing over the thoughts of Ellie touching, kissing and loving other girls. You hated the fact of Ellie being so clueless she couldn’t see how bad you were for her, that’s why out of pure jealousy you’d scare away her dates every single time you could.

Like for example Cat; Ellie and Cat met around December? You and Ellie were at Jesse’s random party which he threw as a celebration for Dina’s score of something, nobody cared about the context. Which, honest speaking, everyone just went there and had a blast for the alcohol and the beer. Long story short you purposely dropped some wine on her white crop top and pastel blue jeans. You told her Ellie was taken so she could at least get an idea to go away.

But hey, sometimes you let Ellie have some dates to just cover yourself up so it’s not so suspicious that nobody in town wants to go with Ellie Williams, even if it hated your guts.

“Well, uh how did it go with that brunette girl, Katy was it?” You asked Ellie as you sat on her bed, legs crossed as you brushed your wet and messy hair, looking for a conversation while Ellie read a book beside you. “Hmm, I guess it was okay but I don’t think she’s into me, definitely straight.” Ellie answered as she turned her page over, marking her page up as she looked over to you and gave a soft shrug. You couldn’t help but to give an awkward smile back, having to play it ‘cool’ with Ellie was not your thing, but since you’ve been crushing over her for a while you tried to get the hang of it. “Well uh hey there’s plenty of other girls for you, maybe just not her” you sighed sarcastically, knowing you were excited and surprised that this girl failed just like the rest.

“Man I just think these girls are playing, I want a relationship like I dunno… maybe something that lasts more than just a conversation?” Ellie groaned as she closed her book playfully aggressive, turning to look at you while you finished brushing your hair and doing a little and simple ponytail. You laughed, Ellie just arguing about her hopeless relationships was cute, avoiding the fact you were the main reason why they didn’t worked but let’s skip that.

“Okay well y’know what? Let’s avoid that question then.” You answered as you dropped your head over Ellie’s shoulder, fidgeting and playing with her hand, admiring her tattoo. “Well, what about you? You barely talk about your boyfriends?” questioned Ellie as she gently moved your head, trying to make a firm and excited eye contact, waiting for your love drama. You haven’t told Ellie that you weren’t exactly ‘straight’ since obviously the only girl you were desperate to date was her, you just tried to find dates to fill the void with stupid and clueless guys who didn’t wanted anything but sex.

“Well uhm.. I don’t think I’m seeing Troy anymore, he asked me for nudes the third week of going out, and I don’t know feels weird.” You shrugged as you took your glasses off and began to clean them. “Oh shit uh damn… guys suck” Ellie answered as she tried to find a proper answer, she was horrible at comforting you but always tried to give her best effort at it.

“Well hey, you deserve so much better than that. I bet a lot of guys would want to treat you good and buy you flowers.” Ellie tried to comfort you as she placed her hand on your knee, softly rubbing it with her thumb as an act of love and comfort. You quickly felt embarrassed, needing to stay firm and regain control of yourself. “Y-yeah thanks els.” You relied as you checked your phone, it was two in the morning.

“Hey els, I think I should just go home” you pointed out as you softly put your things on your bag, it was too late and you weren’t having it. “Wait but it’s too late, why can’t you stay over?” Ellie suggested as she rapidly stood up and took her crocs off, turning some blue led lights on and turning the main lights off, throwing you some pillows and getting on her bed again. This was Ellie’s way of begging you to stay over, which cmon, it was Ellie. How could you decline her requests? You sighed, knowing it would be worse for you to stay calm but it was too late, Ellie was right. “Okay fine, only because it’s just too late and I don’t feel like driving” you groaned playfully as you got under Ellie’s dinosaur fluffy blanket.

- -

it was approximately four in the morning. That’s what you can at least remember, you couldn’t sleep, not at all. Ellie was knocked out, sleeping on your neck as if she hasn’t slept for decades. Her body wrapped around yours, she loved cuddling you at night. You were flushed and sweaty, couldn’t keep your eyes off Ellie at all. Her heavy breathing close to your neck, her body around yours, her arms on your waist, this was making you an absolute mess. You couldn’t breathe properly, your rhythm was not synced right, you could swear everyone on the apartment floor could hear your heartbeats of how loud and fast you felt them. On a good hand, this was good, but knowing how bad you are over Ellie? This wasn’t so enjoyable. Worse thing about sleeping with Ellie was that she is a horrible sleeper, she moves and constantly. her hands felt as if she was wandering around your body, this made you feel as guilty as possible. Before both of you said your good nights, you took off your shirt since you assumed this would happen, and you hated being sweaty. But now? You were regretting it, feeling every inch of Ellie’s hands around you felt as if every gasp of air you took was thicker.

“Fuck, els… move the fuck away from me.” You whispered as you tried to take her hands away from your waist, but every time you moved her away, she would just grab you again and tighter. You could’ve just sworn this was just some silly prank and she was wide awake of how strong her grip was on your body. The guilty feeling of being so needy over this but knowing it was wrong repeated over your head. After minutes of silence and stress you decided to shift sides to the complete opposite direction of Ellie’s face, it was tough to move but you successfully did it. Regardless of your hard effort of trying to get Ellie away from you, Ellie’s cold hands gripped on your waist tighter, pulling you closer to her. You tried your best to bite your lower lip as hard as possible, needing to hold onto a whimper that was so close to escaping your lips. Ellie was basically spooning you now, and you felt as bad as before. Just imagining of the possible scenarios, but quickly coming into realization of how wrong you were for every thing of this. Ellie’s hands roaming around your waist as if you were some body pillow had you sweating like you ran a marathon and did 60 miles in less than an hour. Guilty of this thoughts and emotions, you forcefully pushed away Ellie’s hands away, needing to get a little air on your body and controlling your breaths. You knew this was wrong, but fuck it, you weren’t doing anything but Ellie being a horrible and heavy sleeper. You stood up from her bed, and slipped down your pants. You were just on some sports bra and boxers you stole from Ellie earlier. Sighing at the exhaustion and stress, you assumed it’ll be better to sleep on Ellie’s couch. So you did, you walked over to the living room, gently opening the door with a pillow and a blanket and you threw yourself on the couch.

“Wake up what the fuck are you doing on my couch???” Ellie yelled as she threw some pillows on your face, it was 8 am already. You felt as if it was seconds ago you tried sleeping and failed.

“Shit it’s your fault for being a bad sleeper I had to leave your room” you groaned as you hid your face under her dinosaur blanket, which didn’t help so much since Ellie quickly grabbed the blanket aggressively and tried to throw you off on her floor. “Listen, I know I’m a bad sleeper but don’t steal my dinosaur blanket.”

After a long session of playful arguments with Ellie you left her apartment. Still having the crazy flashbacks of last night that didn’t let you sleep at all. You decided to drive over to Dina’s place because aside Ellie being your best friend, she was your crush. And who could you talk about your crushes if your best friend IS the crush? Dina.

“Girl are you fucking with me right now? You didn’t woke her up and let her make you a mess.. you’re….full of stuff yeah” Dina chuckled as she took a sip of her wine, looking at you concerned knowing how many years you’ve been trying to avoid talking to Ellie about your feelings or anything, actually. “Dina, I swear I couldn’t talk she had her hands all over me how was I supposed to remain caaaalmmmm” you sighed as you scratched your cheeks stressfully. Dina shook her head, she hated seeing you like this. “Have you fucked someone before? Like actually, I think you might need some sex in your life. You definitely need a break from Ellie.” she suggested as she handed over a party flyer.

“Jesse is throwing another party tonight, you should come well dressed and hook up with someone, I doubt Ellie is coming today since cat might be there but it’s a great opportunity for you.” Dina added as she stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash her cup. “Are you sure? I feel guilty, I haven’t been able to go on dates knowing Ellie is the only one on my mind.” You confessed as you stood up and followed the girl, feeling like you’d go crazy. “Well, that’s a you problem girl, you need to find someone else to fill the void or else you’ll go crazy, go for Abby, I heard she likes you.” Dina responded as she opened her door and walked away with you to her balcony.

“Abby likes me? As in the actual Abby?” You widened your eyes in shock, how could Abby be into you knowing there’s tons of hotter girls who tried hitting her. “I guess I could I dunno.. try” you added as you kept thinking. “That’s the spirit! I’ll see you at Jesse’s house tonight then.” Dina smiled as she playfully punched your shoulder, she needed to find a way to cheer you up and remove Ellie from your head.

- -

Pink or pastel blue? You couldn’t decide. What am I even supposed to wear for this party if I wasn’t gonna impress Ellie Williams, but instead Abby, what is Abby even into? You felt weird, but maybe if you dressed as yourself you’d get something. You had your head fuzzed off by the guilt of knowing you’d finally do your shot with someone else after a while. That’s when your phone vibrated and you heard a notification; it was Ellie.

“Hey, r u up? What r u doing.” 11:08 pm.

You didn’t know what to tell her, going on a party without actually telling her or inviting her felt horrible. What if she caught you and Abby talking? What if she thinks you’re dating Abby and she liked you? What if Dina already invited her and she appears out of nowhere? No, you were overthinking. But lying felt horrible.

“I’m just trying on some clothes.” - 11:15 pm

“Ooo can I see? If not it’s ok loll” - 11:16 pm

Your face flushed, but you felt shitty. Showing your outfit to Ellie knowing it’s meant for Abby destroyed your thoughts completely. You didn’t wanted to hurt Ellie, but fuck this honestly, you knew Ellie wouldn’t just like you back, right? You’re her best friend but it still hurt.

“Nty, I don’t look so good anyways I don’t wanna show you my ugly side.” - 11:20 pm

“Lmao you’re never ugly but ok :))” - 11:22 pm

You wanted to scream. Little messages like this would’ve just made you go crazy over Ellie fucking Williams. But you couldn’t show her you were desperate on texting her either, so leaving her on read was more acceptable for you.

After minutes of deciding your last choice was a pastel pink crop top with some light jeans and some Adidas. You heard Abby wasn’t a Nike fan so maybe Adidas would do the trick, avoiding the fact your Nikes were all creasy and some of them weren’t so clean. You meet up with Dina and Jesse at the party and they greeted you as you walked in.

“Finally you’re here, I assumed you didn’t felt like coming.” Dina chuckled as she hugged you and offered a drink. “I just didn’t know what to wear, am I too overdressed?” You asked as you accepted Dina’s drink, walking over to the kitchen with her. “No you’re just perfect, make sure to have fun today and don’t think about you know who.” Dina added as she smiled and winked, she pointed out that Abby usually likes to smoke on the balcony or talk with people on the second floor rooms. But you had other plans, you’d just let things flow and you decided to walk away and explore your way out of things.

Maybe a little initiative won’t hurt, right? You decided to look for Abby on some rooms, accidentally opening ‘occupied’ rooms but needing to find her and distract your head. That’s until you opened a room and all the stored smoke left to your face as you slowly walked in and saw Abby sitting on a bed.

“Hi.” You awkward said as you closed the door and walked infront of Abby. “Uh hey, what’s up?” She asked in concern, you didn’t know what to talk about.

“I… uh can I stay here with you? If you don’t mind of course.” You awkwardly said as you sat on the bed beside Abby, giving her a soft smile. “Oh of course go ahead” Abby replied as she returned a smile and offered you her joint. “No thanks I don’t smoke” you chuckled as she widened her eyes in confusion.

“But aren’t you Ellie’s friend? I thought you smoked with her” Abby questioned as she looked at you with concern, and a little bit of something else. “No.. no, I mean yes Ellie smokes but I’m not really into it, I prefer drinking even tho she loves to offer me.” You chuckled awkwardly. Your whole point of being with Abby was to avoid thinking and talking about Ellie, which it made you feel uncomfortable. “Oh I see, well how have you been? Why did you wanted to see me?” Abby asked with a soft smile on her face while she studies your expressions and the way you talk.

“I just wanted to talk to you that’s all.” You replied in a soft tone as you trying to avoid eye contact. “Listen, if it’s about what people have said, it’s true. I do like you and I know we haven’t actually had any proper conversations like this but don’t feel pressured into talking to me.” Abby quickly confessed as she looked over to you and grabbed your face softly, forcing eye contact. “I… I don’t know, I just thought we could talk and.. well—” You were starting to stutter and overstimulate. You never liked Abby and you couldn’t find anything to respond or comfort her, the guilt was starting to reach your core and it wasn’t good.

“Hey hey that’s okay calm down oka..—” Abby tried to talk to you as she softly placed a hand on your knee, which disclaimer, Ellie loved doing that to show you comfort. You couldn’t take it any longer. You stood up and left the room, tears forming on your eyes as you left with no response. You gently rubbed your watery eyes, not fully paying attention to where you were walking as you went downstairs to get a drink. How the fuck could you be so normal talking to Ellie knowing you loved her? You hated pretending you were just fine. Maybe it was the drink Dina offered you making you this sensitive, or maybe the night was not yours. Too many thoughts forming on your head you didn’t noticed you bumped over someone.

“Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” That voice, those words just felt recognizable. It was Ellie. “Wait..— are you crying?” She added as she tried to take your hands away from your face gently to look at you more clearly. You couldn’t help it but to tear up and hug her. “Love, did someone made you cry?” Her words were so reassuring but how could you tell her she was the reason you were crying? When you got a glimpse of the place and your eyes weren’t that watery as Ellie rubbed your back and hugged you, you noticed Dina looking at you with concern, and a little disappointed. She only wanted you to focus on you, but there you were; all over Ellie Williams once again.

Ellie didn’t enjoy seeing you cry, instead she took both of you out of that party and drove you to her apartment. Once she got to her apartment she walked you to her room and made you completely comfortable. She threw her dinosaur blanket ontop of you, kissed your forehead and brought you some ice cream she had on her fridge and sat down beside you. Honestly, you loved Ellie even if sometimes she was a little loser, but you couldn’t deny she treated you amazing just for being her best friend.

“Why were you talking with Abby.” You heard Ellie asking you in soft murmurs as she crossed her arms and looked over you from her side of the bed, a little bit more serious now than some seconds ago. “What… what do you mean?” You asked confused, just how did she found out?

“Abby texted me some minutes ago you left a room crying after you guys talked ” the word ‘talked’ was mocked into sarcastic air quotes as Ellie turned her phone off to directly look at you. “Just what were you talking with the famous Abby Anderson” She raised an eyebrow as she watched you with a firm tone. “If I’m being honest, I don’t know, Dina told me to go to that party and I had no one to talk to so maybe talking to her was the trick.” You halfway lied, it was true in a point but the other was just to distract your mind from Ellie.

“And you thought talking to Abby, which almost the entire town knows she has a crush on you, was the best way out. Right?” She groaned as she stood up and did her ponytail while rolling her eyes. You were confused, why was she making a big deal out of you only talking with Abby Anderson? Yeah she was popular but it wasn’t a big deal, not for you at least. “Wait are you fighting me for talking with her?” You asked, deeply concerned about the vibe Ellie was having.

“I’m not fighting you, I just I don’t like the way she randomly fucking texts me at one in the morning to mention me both of you talked on a room knowing I hate her.” She confessed, she looked so disgusted by the thought of you and Abby speaking, aside the fact she assumed it was something else you just didn’t understand.

“Wait. You’re assuming I fucked Abby and left crying?” You quickly understood, Ellie was jealous.

“You’re jealous” you confronted, as you widened your eyes on concern. “What? No im not, im not jealous of anything.” Ellie murmured as she dropped her hands and looked down at you with an annoyed expression. “You are jealous, why would you be so angry about me talking with Abby Anderson, yes I know you hate her, but I was just talking to her like any other human being just like you do too?” You mentioned, both of you knew that you hated people too, yet Ellie continues to speak with them normally, so what was the difference here?

“You’re just jealous.” You added as you looked at Ellie, trying to hold your laugh back.

“Okay so? What if I am? What now?” Ellie confessed as she rolled her eyes, annoyed at your lack of curiosity. “well… maaaaaybe THIS—” you yelled as you pushed her on the side of the bed, as you quickly got ontop of her and straddled her from above.

Ellie, fully off guard now tried to get off before reaching out and using her fingers to tickle you. She forcefully pushed you beside her as she rapidly climbed on top of you, now both of you start tickling and tugging each others arms and legs. Though, Ellie’s leg found a way between yours and every time you moved, your cunt brushed with the roughness of her jeans and the thinness of the shorts you were currently on.

Every time her leg brushes against your clit you whimper but try your best to cover it up with a giggle or poking her extra hard, but there was this one time that her leg brushed your now soaked cunt and you moaned her name uncontrollably loud.

“E-els.. fuuuck..—!” You moaned out. Ellie immediately stopped in her tracks. She looked at you with wide eyes.

"w-what did you say?" Ellie questions, fully confused and shocked by the sudden noise which came out of your mouth.

“Fuck.. your leg your- please take it off” You shut your eyes completely off as you tried to push her leg away softly, as she quickly noticed. “Oh shit- I’m so sorry fuck” Her face immediately flushed, embarrassed by not noticing this earlier. She got off of you and decided to go right to her closet and chance. And probably avoid you for some minutes.

You felt like your soul would rip out of you right there. You were so embarrassed and so soaked by her touch it was unbelievable. But before you know it, Ellie came back into some short basketball pants and a large T-shirt, with her face extremely flushed, standing over your side of the bed;

“I’m sorry about uh that, but if you feel uncomfortable I can sleep on the couch tonight-” she quickly spoke, trying to break the awkward silence between you too. You knew staying was gonna make you horribly guilty, maybe leaving was the best option.

“Nono it’s fine, I think I’ll go home. Talk to you some other time, els?” You responded, softly standing up and getting your things, you could notice her face looked like if she felt the same way too. God why was it so embarrasing? Was it your dramatic and loud moaning or the fact you liked her that had you this way, and even worse what was Ellie thinking? Your head felt dizzy of how much you kept overthinking. Years of hiding your feelings towards Ellie felt like they were thrown and drained by this simple mistake.

- -

You were at your apartment. Overthinking the situation over and over, your mind was all fuzzy and you felt so bad about yourself. Was your friendship with Ellie gone now? Would she see you differently? God would she tell anyone about that? So many thoughts and questions running through every inch of your body you didn’t know what to do. No notifications from her, no calls, nothing. It was 2 in the morning and you couldn’t sleep at all. Maybe if you got Ellie a present or some chocolates and apologize it’ll all work out?

So that’s what you did. You drove over to an open 24 hour gas station, and look over something that might cheer Ellie up. That’s when you found a CD on the movie section. It was Game of Thrones. You’ve never seen the film but you do remember Ellie yapping about wanting to see it but not being able to afford HBO Max. This and some chocolates will do.

You were at Ellie’s apartment door. Afraid of entering, knocking or even the thought of opening it. You took a big breath and let it out as a huge sigh, grabbing the doorknob to gently open it. You and Ellie had the trust of just opening your doors without hesitation so, you did.

“Els, I got you a present, and I miss you so uh yea..” you spoke as you tried searching for Ellie everywhere. No response from her though, she wasn’t on her usual spot on the living room, neither on the couch or bathroom. That’s when you walked softly through the hallway and heard rough grunting and moaning coming from Ellie’s room. You quickly stopped. Was she with someone this quickly? Who was she fucking? Just the thought of Ellie’s hands roaming around someone’s body made your heart ache. Being jealous wasn’t the right thing now, but leaving didn’t felt either.

Her door wasn’t even fully closed, was it a sign to come in? The curiosity killed you inside. you’ll get so killed for this, but you need to know. And so, you slowly walked to her door, just a peek of the girls she’s fucking will do. Shit. You couldn’t see a thing, if you opened her door hard enough they’ll notice. So you tried to gently and softly move the door a little, just to take a quick peek at Ellie and whoever was at her room. That’s when you heard Ellie grunt your name and your eyes widened.

“Fuck.. jus’ like that.” Ellie grunted as you noticed she wasn’t fucking anyone but herself. Her hands tightly wrapped around a sex toy as she used her strap to fuck it aggressively. Your face immediately became red. You’ve never heard Ellie nor seen her act like this. You couldn’t move, neither did you felt like leaving, why was watching her fuck herself felt so good? you’ve always thought of Ellie as caring, a loser girlfriend who’d take you to Walmart since she has no idea what your favorite mall is or sing you a lullaby before you’d sleep.

Ellie kept grinding on, moaning and breathing heavily as she kept groaning at the toy, repeatedly saying your name; she was fucking herself to the thought of you. You felt so needy, you could swear you could feel your urging cunt’s pulse. Soaked by the view, needing to be the one below Ellie right now, not that toy. Without taking your eyes off Ellie, you lowered your free hand, teasing your cunt though your pants. Staring firmly at Ellie, resisting to blink and miss any detail. You pressed your clit harshly, biting your lip to avoid moaning or leaving any noises to expose you.

Desperately, you unbuttoned your jeans, slipping your hand below your panties as you felt just how fucking soaked you were by staring at Ellie fuck herself. You sighed at the feeling, softly rubbing and playing with your clit, trying your best to follow Ellie’s movements. Feeling the need for more, you slipped two fingers inside of you, uncontrollably moaning at the feeling of your walls tightening, immediately shutting your eyes.

Ellie quickly stopped, she could’ve sworn she heard a moan. She looked over at the half opened door, noticing how you touched yourself just by looking at her, she parted her lips, staying agape at the view of you. She covered her toy and rapidly unbuckling her strap, throwing it on the other side of the bed as she came over to you. Shocked by it, you took your hand off of your pants and walked in with the CD.

“I… I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come over, but I uh got you this.” You handed her the cd as you couldn’t help but to share at her soaked boxers.

“How long have you…. Um y’know been staring there?” Ellie asked as she looked at you, speaking with a lower tone than the usual. You were too horny for this, you quickly pushed Ellie to her bed, getting on top of her. “S-shit hey what are you—” Ellie groaned as you interrupted her with a kiss. You knew this friendship was gonna lead to something or nothing, might as well risk it now, right? The kiss was very deepened by now, your lips felt numb to the point you didn’t even know how to think clearly. Your body was on fire and Ellie’s hands were exploring every inch of you. You couldn’t control yourself, just not anymore. Loudly moaning and whimpering was all you could do.

“F-fuck please lower your voice joel is gonna kill me for this.” Ellie groaned as she shut your mouth with her free hand, the other exploring through your pants as she pressed her thumb on your clit.

You groaned, your clit was so sensitive and so puffy by nothing, you needed her inside of you as quick as possible. Gently, you took Ellie’s hand out of your mouth as you lowered it to your breasts. “Els.. please I need you to fuck me s’bad..” you moaned as you looked at her hand on your pants, teasing you with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah baby, need me to fuck your little hole so bad?” Ellie mocked as she chuckled at how vulnerable you were; she loved this view. “Take this off.” She groaned, as she kissed you, unable to let you do any noise nor speak, needing you to obey. And so you did, you were now half naked with only your underwear and bra on. Ellie bit her lip as she stared at every inch of your body.

“Fuck… you look so gorgeous baby.” Ellie groaned lowly, not taking her eyes off of you. She quickly grabbed her strap that was beside her from earlier, buckling it under her boxers as she grabbed your thighs and separated them and got in between both to arrange herself right into your needy cunt. “You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this.” She sighed as she gently caressed your soaked cunt through your panties, rubbing softly your clit as she then grabbed your panties and slid them to the side, wanting to have a better view of you before fucking you. “So wet for me baby, already?” She smirked, licking her fingers as she rubbed your clit in gentle circles, looking how you took her so good, whimpering and jolting at the bare minimum. You couldn’t bare this feeling, you shut your eyes fast, needing to savor this moment you’ve been waiting for. That’s when you felt Ellie’s strap slowly getting inside of your tight walls, so long and thick, making your cunt feel so full of her. “F-fuuuuuckkk….!” You moaned as your eyes widened in shock, just looking how good your pussy was with her fucking you slowly, getting you to enjoy every little movement she’d do to you before going rough.

And Ellie enjoyed this, the need to tease you before dumb fucking you, seeing you so weak and needy for her strap it was incredible. “Wait wait please els go faster s’good…” you whimpered, these slow motion was making feel your cunt’s pulse, a strange feeling but felt so good. And before you knew it, Ellie pushed her strap more inside of you, now doing faster and rougher movements to hurry your ecstasy. “Fuck fuck fuck els els—” you immediately rolled your eyes back, grabbing the bed sheets as hard as you could. You could feel your walls tightening around Ellie’s strap, close to coming down from your high. The strap kept jumping on and twitching on Ellie’s clit, enjoying the view and the feeling, you could listen to her huffs and groaning, just felt so right. “You’re close aren’t you my love?” Ellie smiled, adoring the way you looked on her strap, how close you were into relieving the stress and desperation of being actually noticed by Ellie. Not as your best friend, but as something else. And you could’ve sworn, that even if Ellie didn’t liked you back, you would prefer of being her fuck doll than just keeping your feelings hidden for much longer. “Fuck fuck fuck…..—!!” You moaned loudly, releasing your ecstasy and coming from your fuzzy high, cumming into Ellie’s strap as she pushed deeper, making sure her entire cunt felt your wet slick. “Yessss fuuuuck, jus’ like that, good girl.” She sighed as she softly rubbed your puffy clit. Softly pulling her strap away, you couldn’t help but to move your hips involuntarily to follow her strap. Feeling so empty and so needier.

“Els..” you couldn’t help but to sob. “What is it baby?” Ellie asked as she wiped your tears off, laying beside you as she gently grabbed your waist to pull you on her chest, cuddling you up to make you feel better. “Did you not like it?” She added as she kissed your cheek.

“I like you, I’ve liked you for so long els I… I wanna be with you, I want you to love me.” You whispered on her ear, too weak to yell, cry or to even do the minimum effort into confessing when you felt your heart beating so hard you felt you’d die right there.

“It’s okay, I like you too. But let’s talk about this later, you need to rest. WE need to rest.” She assured you, as she caressed your cheeks, placing your head on her chest as she gently rubbed your back, using her free hand to get her dinosaur blanket and cover both of you up.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Meow

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: He had spent an entire millennia in solitude, waiting for her to come back to him, bearing this curse that was a constant reminder of his ignorance, his mistake, and his guilt. He had forgotten how fate had always been cruel to him, punishing him for all he had done, and so be it, meeting her in the 21st century should have brought him joy- there was only one problem, his love for her may not have decreased a drop, but she may love Poofy more than she ever loved him.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: death of a major character, war, PTSD.

A/N: Here's a quick peak of what this series will comprise, I wanted it to be a one-shot, but turning it into a series would be easier for me since this semester has me sobbing. If you want to join the tag list, please feel free to comment below! @edenesth HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT THE PIC? HMMMM?

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Rating: mature

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

"So, you're either a hook-up who hasn't left yet, which is hella creepy dude, it's 10 am- a secret boyfriend I was never told about which proves I have been a horrible best friend or you're a freak who broke inside mind you I am a cop."

He froze mid-walk, eyes wide and swirling with panic. His instincts were telling him to bolt out the door, but the tug in his chest followed by his heart dropping to his stomach had him frozen in spot, years- no millennia; he had kept safe, he had kept it a secret and to think he would be discovered not by the one destined to be with him, but this mutt- apologies, he used to be a mutt, centuries ago, the same time he had found his mate, ridding him of the curse. What stood before him now was a human, a reborn version of the hyperactive, clingy, filthy-

"I believe you're the creep who is my innocent Y/N's dream man?"

"I can explain."

"Oh?" quirking his head to the side, his eyes scanned the other man, who was dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of his fresh shower hanging off the tips of his onyx locks and falling onto the carpet. Yunho’s hand was itching to reach his gun hooked to his belt, hidden with his jacket, he may have been a bit taller than the intruder, but the man looked well built, enough to put up a fight, so he may need to make this quick.

“I’m Poofy.”

“I- you’re what?”

“Poofy, the cat, Y/N’s cat, the one she saved.”

“I might need to call for backup.” He mumbled to himself, taking out his gun and aiming at the barely covered man.

His eyes widened at the statement, shaking his head as he raised his hands in the air, “Listen to me, I’m not lying, Yunho.”

His name caused him to pause, so the intruder knew his name, huh, “How long have you been stalking her?”

“I haven’t I- a millennia later and you’re still so annoying,” letting out a whine, the man stomped his foot against the carpet, the movement leading his towel to slip off, both men freezing as soon as the plush, wet material hit the ground, their eyes meeting for a split second before Yunho’s trailed down, pausing and taking in the sight.

“I don’t remember if she ever mentioned a big-

“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO HER, YOU DAMN MUTT.”

[ofallthingsnasty]

H A T for Ace? Hehe

Yandere Alphabet

pffffft 😂 hey, i should be the one making cheesy jokes here skadjk honestly, it might be my grand old age (not really) but he's such a soggy little man to me. you have been warned - he's very different to the ones posted so far.

tw.yandere, emotional manipulation, minors dni

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The whole fucking relationship. He depends on you, needs you. You’re his band-aid, his childhood plushie, his mom, his sibling, his partner, his best friend - Ace is the everything-issues man and all those deep-seated insecurities and all that trauma, all that hurt is coming out when he’s with you. He’ll never hurt you physically but it’s going to be a total mindfuck for you. This whole thing clearly isn't right; he is definitely out of line, you're in this situation against your will - but he's like a wet cat when he's with you and it's not an act. You'll feel like you're losing your mind - caught between being scared and forced to dry the tears of a man who has basically decided that you're his ersatz family. Maybe he'll snap one day? He doesn't seem to be the type but he already went so far - you never know with Ace.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’s extremely affectionate. He’s constantly touching you, playing with your hair, your clothes, your accessories. He wants you to touch him, too - just dote on him, please, show him that you’re there, that you care for him.  Cup his cheeks, cradle his head - he’ll practically melt into your touch. If you initiate it, he’ll be so happy.  (Don't overdo it, though. Or else he's gonna start crying and you don't want that. Absolutely ghoulish.)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh god, anything but tears, please. He simply can’t take those - it breaks his heart to see you sad. At first, he’ll try anything and everything to cheer you up - but it’s not only for you. It’s for him, too. I think he’s very unstable as a yandere, in the sense that he flip-flops between being delusional and being horribly self-aware of the things he has done to you. He didn't want to be a monster, ever. Now look at him, forcing someone into playing pretend with him. Maybe all those people were right and he really is a demon child.  But he can’t let you go, either. You soothe that sting in his heart, your touch is all he thinks about after a long day. As much as it eats away at him, he's too selfish to stop this.

So don’t cry, please, don’t make him face the reality of what this is. Play nice, play soft, play your part convincingly so he can forget about it all. Make him think you're here with him because you want to be and maybe he can finally believe that he deserves to be loved.

If your tears and silence don't get better, though - he’ll simply clam up and ignore you. Not out of malice, never out of malice - but he really can’t take it. He just reaches a certain point where he can't help you without spiraling himself and has to get away from those big, sad eyes.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 5, In Which You Turn Out To be Capable of More Than You Thought

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

AO3

You had the sweetest dreams. 

You lived in a beautiful mansion in a world where capitalism had fallen (which did not prevent you from living in a mansion), you no longer had to work (well, because capitalism had obviously fallen) and, most importantly, you became Raphael's one and only dark consort (you were not sure how capitalism fit into this narrative), whom he cherished and loved more than anyone, even more than the Crown above his horns. 

Perched atop Raphael’s lap in the throne room, surrounded by a crowd of souls kneeling before you and begging for your mercy (including your high school bully Thomas, who once locked you up in the bathroom, and the ex who cheated on you), you suddenly heard the distinct ringtone of a Teams call. It's a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else; it could be used as a method of torture. 

You made a mental note to suggest this to Raphael later on.

The call seemed downright disrespectful to your new status as the Archduchess of all Hells, so you ignored it; surprisingly, it did not stop. Thinking about how you would ask Raphael to execute whoever disturbed your bliss, you stretched out your hand to swipe the huge green button that was being projected right across the throne hall.

"Anya?" The voice on the other end was familiar, but you couldn't place it. 

Your mind struggled to come to life and make sense of your surroundings. 

Why were you lying naked? 

What time was it?

Why did your whole body ache?

And why was there a wet patch beneath you? 

To answer at least the last question, you reached down to touch the moisture between your legs, and saw thick white liquid coating your fingers in the soft morning light. You went for a sniff: smelt like a freshly burned match and salty musk. 

Oh, fuck.

Okay, so Raphael wasn't big on safe sex (which probably should have been expected from someone who lived in the House of Hope). Not that you remembered asking him for protection. Not that you were able to or wanted to. The thought of him coming inside you seemed insanely hot yesterday; but now, in the clear light of day, it just seemed insane.

Don’t human women all die horribly giving birth to half-devils?

The voice on the phone called out again, "Anya, are you still there? Are you okay?"

“Yes?”, you responded hesitantly and pulled your fingers away from your nostrils. 

"You're fifteen meetings late for our meeting," the voice reminded you, and you finally remembered who it belonged to.

Your supervisor. Not a bad guy, not a good guy, just a burnt out middle-aged man who never imagined himself stuck in middle management while going through a messy divorce.

"We had a meeting?" You asked, even though somewhere deep down in your foggy brain you knew very well that you did have one scheduled.

You sat down on the bed and did you best to suppress a moan: your arse was bruised raw.

“Your development talk, Anya”, your supervisor sighed. “Did you… did you just wake up? It’s fifteen past ten.”

Quick, think of a believable excuse. Your cat died? No, he knows you don't have one. Your grandmother passed? No, that would be disrespectful to her memory. You were robbed? No, then you wouldn't be sleeping so soundly...

"No, I...I didn't," you stammered, desperately trying to come up with something, anything.

"Do you want to turn your camera on?" He asked. "It helps during these talks."

No, you didn't want to turn on your camera unless you wanted to make absolutely sure he saw you stark naked - which was definitely not going to work in your favour (or maybe it would, but you didn't want to test it). You shifted on the bed (your bed made a very obvious, very loud creaking noise) and your supervisor cleared his throat. 

“I am not feeling too well, sorry”, you said. “I’d rather not”.

That wasn't entirely false - between the sore arse and what felt like bite marks on various parts of your body and what the hell was that purple bruise on your thigh? 

There was silence before he spoke again, "Well then...I guess we're halfway done here. Did you hear about the news?"

“The news?”, you echoed.

"You haven't checked our company website?"

Does anyone actually bother to check those?

"Mmm-hmm," You responded noncommittally.

"Okay," your supervisor sighed. "We've been acquired, and as a result, there will be some changes and layoffs."

"Oh," was all you could manage to say.

"I'm currently making a list of potential layoffs."

"Oh," you repeated, starting to understand where this conversation was going.

"Anya," he began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want to sound harsh, I have enjoyed working with you. As a friendly suggestion: it might look better on your resume if it appeared that leaving was your own decision."

Hell no, you won’t let the corpo screw you over.

“Hey, no, I want a severance package. I’ve been working for this company for three years”.

"Sure," he responded. "You are fully entitled to it. But first, we'll have to review your work activity. You know, what you did on your work computer, which websites you visited, how often you were active."

Maybe you’ll let the corpo screw you over.

“Never mind,” you surrendered. “I’ll come by today to pick up my stuff.”

“I am glad we could find a mutually beneficial decision”, your supervisor said, wished you a nice day, dropped off the call, and left you naked and pissed off.

As you got up, you felt something dripping down your legs. Wonderful, washing Raphael’s cum off the carpet sounded like the perfect start to your morning. You used your blanket to clean yourself (it would be easier to wash later) and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

On your way there, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out an exasperated laugh. The make-up from yesterday was still smeared on your face in dark trails, making you look like a freshly fired and thoroughly fucked racoon. 

Sighing, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away Raphael's seed, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's make-up. Oh, you thought as you washed it all away: maybe you should have brought some of Raphael's DNA to study in the lab. Then you would have a solid proof. They also might have found a way to breed powerful cambion super-soldiers.

Anya, why do you always have to think such bullshit? Raphael is from Dungeons & Dragons, not Warhammer.

Your bruises ached even worse under the hot water.

“You know, Raphael”, you spoke to yourself as you wrapped yourself in a towel. “I start to think there might be some issues with our relationship”.

Your phone chimed with a message.

"good morning my lovely girl," it read, instantly piquing your interest.

Oh, wow. Okay, you guys might have some issues, but he is certainly kind of sweet. You were about to pick up your phone to type something as sweet back (good morning my favorite devil?), when another notification popped up. 

“Did you know your Raul is one of the richest people in the country??”

Ah, damn. Your mum seemed to be in an excellent mood - why was that?

Probably because “Raul” made it to some mightiest and greatest list.

“I hope the date went well please call love mama god bless 🙏🥰”

As soon as you got yourself dried up, you were scanning the corporate website (last time you checked it when you prepared for an interview); the acquisition news was on the front page. You hastily scanned through the article.

“…was yesterday acquired by Avernus Capital AG, Zürich. The legal aspects of the transaction were handled by the Managing Partner Raul d'Avergni…”

By whom?

By whom?

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raphael! So you can remember to get me fired but a condom slips your mind? Does he even know what those are? Has he ever needed to use one?

Ah, now you understand why he hadn’t called for the whole three days. He was working hard on fucking up your life. Screw reigning over the nine hells as the Archdevil Supreme when there's a girl who spent six months after graduation hunting this job (damn this economy) to torment.

Yes, you hated your job, but it paid the bills. Your emergency fund would cover one month expenses, tops. Raphael gave you a thousand over Twitch, that was nice, but that won’t last long either. If you buy plan B and visit a gyno, that’s one hundred less, easy. You can’t ask your mother for any help, either - she could barely make ends meet as it is.

Fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps he got you fired to offer you a better job; wasn't that what he mentioned yesterday? That’s right. Your work for me is not yet done, he said. That’s it; he has another job and needs all of your free time. 

You grabbed your phone to call him to confirm; and then you realized you still did not have his number, all the times he called you (which was exactly one) it was from a no caller ID. 

So much for that plan. Fine, the other way, then. You fired up BG3, the save from his Sharess Caress room.

The sight of his avatar and the inviting huge bed behind him stirred a pang of longing in you. "Hey, I miss you," you murmured to the screen, "Could you call me, please?"

“Give me the Crown that dominates the elder brain”, Raphael answered, not a line off the scripted talk.

“I already did that and now you are here. What’s the next task?”.

“A crown for a hammer, a deal of a lifetime”, Raphael ignored you and carried on with his talk with Tav.

The devil didn't toss you any curveballs, no ad-libbed lines or cheeky glances that shattered the fourth wall; just the same old scripted scenarios you'd already seen and played through. You jumped between saves, but nada. Your mum called you three or four times in the meanwhile. You shot her a short message that everything was okay (everything wasn’t), and you’ll call her later. 

Next, you scrolled through the missed discord notifications, filled with images and screen caps of Raphael and other Tavs, hundreds of other Tavs, elves, tieflings, humans, a wide gallery of his bloody harem (especially the modded Durges got under your skin) from the new romance scene Larian dropped. You were very tempted to tell them all about your night with Raphael and how it was the best sex you've ever had and on an unrelated note, do all women really die if they give birth to cambions? 

But then again, you’ve been called crazy enough lately. Better to delete the whole app. 

Who has time to chat in discord? Definitely not people with full-time jobs.

…Right.

In the afternoon, you decide to go to your office in the center of the city to pick up the few things they still had and hand in the things you still had . Company badge, laptop, chargers; three years' work fit into a cardboard box. Your last pay cheque will arrive on Friday, they said. 

Thank you for your hard work and dedication, and for making us a euro while we give you a cent and go get lost. Interviewing for them took a whole day; leaving them took half an hour.

The office was half empty; the few who were there were preparing to celebrate the grand occasion of being taken over by Avernus Capital (wouldn’t have happened without you, by the way, and you doubted that the new owner would be that nice). You mumbled a few hellos and how do you dos, but you realised (not that you ever thought otherwise) how little you cared for these people, and how little they cared for you.

The only one you really wanted to talk to you couldn't be reached.

Wait, but Raphael's office was only two underground stations away, you thought. If you can't call, maybe you can pay him a visit and congratulate him in person on his great acquisition.

Raphael's office, a multi-storey eighteenth-century building with the golden letters D'Avergni & Partners plastered all over it, looked very unwelcoming from the outside; inside it had all the warmth of a mausoleum. Dark grey walls loomed around you, somewhere between an art gallery and a prison cell. Art Deco furniture with sharp angles filled the space as floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold shards of light. You were stopped dead at the reception desk.

The receptionist's lips curved into a polite smile as you approached. 

She actually seemed nice, not the snotty bombshell type usual at such kinds of places; she had a tired smile and dark bags under her make-up.

"I would like to see Raul d'Avergni," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

She looked at you as if you had entered a church and asked for a personal audience with God. Doubt gnawed at your resolve, but retreating now would be even more awkward.

Some young men, sipping coffee from their plastic cups next to an espresso robot, looked at you curiously through their thick-rimmed glasses.

"Good morning!" chirped the receptionist, regaining her composure. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Ugh, no..." you replied, trying to sound confident. “I'm his (what, what, what?)… his girlfriend, actually”.

Brilliant. 

She arched her eyebrows slightly, looking at your "Astarion approves" badge on your rucksack, which had seen quite a bit of action in its life (the summer festivals!), then at your "nique la police" T-shirt. Yes, you didn't give much thought to what you were wearing, but then again, you weren't planning to visit Raphael when you came here. 

The receptionist did her best to remain professional, but you could sense that she was very doubtful about your statement.

"I am afraid Mr. d'Avergni is in meetings all day today," she offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could try calling him if it is a private matter?"

Yeah, great idea. Your cheeks flushed as embarrassment washed over you. Of course his girlfriend would have his number.

"You do have his private number, don't you?" she continued, her smile unwavering.

Now you felt like a complete idiot. The girl was obviously too tired to make fun of you, but the stares and whispered giggles of the posh idiots behind your back were not nice.

“Sure I do," you blurted out. "Just still couldn't reach him for some reason and it’s pretty urgent. Anyway, just let Raul know I stopped by. My name is Anya. Anya Berger."

"Of course," she replied in that 'not-a-chance' tone. "Have a nice day, Mrs Berger."

You retreated with your dignity in tatters and headed for the exit. What on earth possessed you to come here? You could have just as easily gone to the Microsoft headquarters and said you brought Bill Gates some home-made pancakes, and by the way, where was he?

Fuck.

As you made your way out, you heard the young man with framed glasses murmur to his coworker, "Such bullshit." You couldn't help but eavesdrop. "I've seen the birds Raul brings to the parties and they are top-notch. Not some..."

You stopped in your tracks. Normally, you were not the scandalous type (you were a people pleaser, if anything), but if the world wanted to treat you like a doormat, you would at least bark back. 

“Not some what?”, you asked before he would finish the sentence.

"Oh, my apologies, miss. I wasn't talking to you. It was just a conversation with my colleague," he responded with a saccharine smile. All these guys sported slicked-back hairdos, boxy glasses and Patagonia vests. Your socks had more personality than these fucks.

“You were talking about me, you Patrick Bateman knock-off. So, what did you want to say?”

His faux-polite smile vanished in an instant.

"Wow, okay”, the guy sneered. “What did I want to say? In a completely unrelated conversation, I wanted to say that giving a drunk blowjob on a Tuesday night doesn't make someone anyone's girlfriend."

“You know what he will do with you if I ask him to?”, you said, your fists clenched.

You did realise how much of a cunt you sounded, but Raphael burned a guy’s mouth for calling him a two pump chump; surely he can burn this guy for being a jerk to you, too. 

There should be some benefit in being Devil’s special little mouse, right? 

The guy just scoffed at your threat, small drops of coffee landing on your face. His coworker looked embarrassed and quickly looked away. 

"Oh, I don't know," the guy retorted, "Why don't you call Mr. d'Avergni and ask him to fire me? Oh wait… do you really have his number?"

You couldn't come up with a clever response, so your anger gave you a bad one.

“I hope a damn bus runs you over”, you grumbled under your breath.

For a split second, you found yourself hoping that very scenario would unfold. That some rogue city bus would burst through the wall and flatten him. Once wasn’t enough; it’d reverse and do it again for good measure. 

Alas, no such luck.

The security at the door started to pay attention, but you didn't want to cause any more of a scene. 

You chose to rise above (not that you had any choice) and strutted away.

"Mr. d’Avergni is not going to call you back, nut job," the guy called after you. "He's way out of your league."

Your fingers clenched around the straps of your rucksack, knuckles white as you retreated.

The moment you left the posh building behind, you felt terrible. In an attempt to make yourself feel a little better, you grabbed a subway sandwich with some extra ham and a sugar bomb coffee from Starbucks, but it did nothing to improve your mood. You found a spot on the steps of the library and sat down to eat and brood everything over.

Let's look at the cold, hard facts. You lost your job, that's one thing. You might be pregnant with a devil's spawn that'll tear you apart on its way out, that's two. You've only saved enough money to get by, that's three. And on top of that, some yuppie jerk ridiculed you. 

That's four. On the plus side... on the plus side... 

Well, you had the best sex of your life last night (by a large, large margin). Just thinking about that orgasm made you dizzy. And that kiss. His lips. His hazel eyes. The way Raphael looked in a waistcoat with a cigar. The way he looked at you.

…yeah.

You stared into the distance, catching the outline of a Catholic cathedral out of the corner of your eye. A thought occurred to you then; Raphael had been so irked by your cross. Going to an actual church will probably make Raphael jealous of the other Big Guy with the magical powers (even though he hadn’t demonstrated them for at least some centuries) that he might actually come out and talk to you. 

You wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and got up.

The cathedral door, huge, twice your size, seemed to be closed. In the old days, you would have just walked away; it was clear you weren't welcome. But now, with all the rules and logic thrown out the window, you pushed against it and, lo and behold, it did open for you.

At first glance, the cathedral seemed devoid of life. There is something utterly captivating about an empty cathedral, as there is about all things that are not supposed to be empty. It was a beautiful church; no doubt about that. Obscenely rich, too, gold gilded altars and towering stained glass windows that painted kaleidoscopic patterns on cold marble floors. Marble statues of angels stood sentinel along the walls. Why do they always have these judgemental looks on their faces? Sinner, sinner, sinner.

I am; so fuck off. 

Far richer than any church should be, and yet the first humble wooden box that caught your eye was "DONATIONS WELCOME".

As you navigated towards the altar (a good half-minute journey across the vast nave), you discovered you weren't alone after all; an elderly pastor dozed in his throne-like chair and a choirboy leafed through sheet music by the monstrous organ pipes.

"Lord Almighty," the pastor creaked as he looked at you. "How did you get in?"

"The door?" you said, gesturing behind you.

He blinked twice.

"I was sure I had locked it. Oh, my memory. Getting old is no fun, child, I can tell you that."

The pastor was one of the types desperately trying to pass themselves off as your friend. 

"Should I go or..." you asked, not really wanting to go anywhere. 

The moment you stepped through the door of the church, you felt like you were crossing worlds again; the mundane real world was behind the door, and the world where interesting things happened was right there.

"Or no... Please stay," said the priest. "If you're here, it must be God's will. We don't turn anyone away. It's not like we've had many newcomers lately."

That might have something to do with being kid fiddlers, you thought, looking at the choirboy in the white and red outfit - fourteen, fifteen at the most - but you said nothing and came closer.

"And what brings you to the house of God, my child?" The priest's smile was warm and inviting. "Would you like to make a confession?"

No, no, absolutely not.

“Or, no”, you chuckled nervously. “No, Father, I wanted…”

(to piss off the devil by coming to the church)

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

"The devils?" the pastor asked incredulously, rubbing the dust off his glasses. "There is but one; you probably mean demons. What about them?"

"Just, ugh... Say, I am haunted by one. Ah, no, you are haunted by ghosts; possessed, then. What would be the procedure?"

You didn't really know what you were asking for. You didn't really believe that there was a step-by-step guide to getting rid of a devil in your bed, especially if you invited him, especially if you liked him very much.

The priest put his hand on his belly and laughed, the old wheezing laugh of a man with a heart condition. God, it smelt like incense in here; such a suffocating smell, as if it was meant to dull any common sense.

"My child," he said, putting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "The Church may have its doctrines, but the idea of demons is simply a metaphor. A representation of our transgressions, our weaknesses." 

He laughed a little more and then told you very gently, carefully, as if you were mentally deficient:

"Demons are not real. They are metaphors, allegories".

Having heard all your life that the Devil is watching, the Devil is waiting, and now all of sudden he is not real, and you were pretty sure he had fucked you raw yesterday.

Very helpful, Father. You suddenly felt an urge to bring forth the Antichrist just to spite the entire Catholic Church.

The cathedral door groaned in protest as it swung open once more. You looked over your shoulder.

The man entering the cathedral was the last person who should be treading on consecrated ground.

"Then who the hell is that, Father?" you muttered under your breath.

"Oh, my dear friend!" replied the priest with the broadest of smiles. "What a joy to see you!”

Raphael's attire was nearly identical to the first time you saw him in the cafe: a three-piece suit with a subtle shift in color, now a deep navy. A bit of a dated look of a wheeler and dealer in smoke-filled rooms; something very much “Mad Men” about him. 

"Darling, you claimed not to be religious," Raphael smiled at you as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. "But look where I find you."

"Well, you're also the last person I would expect to see in a church," you replied.

"Why is that?” The priest asked. “This man has done more for the Church than any other, my dear child!"

They embraced, the priest and the businessman, like good old friends. Well, you always knew that the Church was in cahoots with the Devil, but not so literally. You shook your head at the hypocrisy of the Church, Raphael, and the way things were done in general.

"You exaggerate, Flavio," said Raphael. "Besides, it's my pleasure and duty to contribute to my community. I assume you've already met, but let me introduce you anyway - Anya, my paramour".

Raphael gestured to you. Better tell your colleagues that, you thought, since they doubted it so much. He should also find this guy in the glasses, introduce you to him and then fire him immediately (and have him run over by a bus while he was on his way to collect his things). In fact, that was now your main requirement for staying his little mouse. 

"Blessed be, I'm ecstatic for you both," the priest gushed, barely containing his excitement. "Praise the Lord that you are finally doing better, Raul. It's about time..."

Raphael gave him a very cold smile and interrupted with a slight raise of his hand.

“Dimmi, hai preparato i documenti che ti ho chiesto? Il fisco sta facendo dellle indagini”.

"Haha!” the priest laughed. “La tua ragazza è venuta a chiedermi dei diavoli, forse avrei dovuto indicarle l'ufficio delle imposte".

Their conversation dove into rapid Italian, leaving you in the dust. It was rude but precisely their intention. Your attention wandered from them and across the hauntingly beautiful church interior, finally resting on the choir boy standing in the shadows.

He looked very pale. The poor guy was scared, scared shitless. His lips moved soundlessly; words stuck in his throat like swallowed stones. Tracing his petrified stare, your own eyes landed on the towering wall of the church.

The shadow Raphael was casting was not human; wings unfurled from its back and double horns crowned its head. It looked both eerie and beautiful in the soft candlelight. A part of you admired it for its artistic potential; this could be inspiration for some haunting fanart.

Wait a second.

“Do you see it too?” You mouthed silently to the choir boy who nodded frantically, sweat on his forehead.

A surge of relief washed over you - finally someone else shared your madness. But before you could reach out to him, he darted away into the ink-black abyss of the back room. Raphael's touch on your hand halted any thought of following him.

“Ah, pay him no heed,” dismissed the priest nonchalantly. “The boy’s mind is somewhat...disturbed.” He quickly clarified with an awkward laugh: “Not that we judge here – all are welcome under God's roof.”

Even the Devil himself, it seemed.

Your gaze returned to Raphael and then flickered towards the pastor; he either couldn't see or chose to ignore the monstrous shadow of his parishioner.

Or perhaps, he did see it and was merely delighted to meet his true master.

"Take all the time you need, Flavio," Raphael said, his hand dismissive as he sent the pastor scurrying. "We're in no rush."

The priest melted into the shadows of a side corridor, leaving you alone with the Devil in God's house. If Raphael nudged you back just a fraction more, your body would be flush against the cold stone altar. 

You found the idea very intriguing.

"Our little escapade last night was quite... memorable, wouldn't you agree?" His fingertips traced a path along your cheekbone. "Did you come here seeking salvation from your sins?"

"Sins? No," you replied coyly. "There are other things that trouble me... Like how I lost my job because of you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “And how exactly did I manage such a feat?"

"Well, my company was acquired by yours and I was restructured away."

A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this. "So, you were employed by Tenebris? That is an unfortunate twist of fate." He paused before continuing, "Did you enjoy working for them?"

"Not particularly," you admitted, "but it paid my bills and kept me fed."

He smiled, his touch lingering on your skin. "And what price tag did they put on keeping you pliant?"

"Two thousand two hundred euros net”.

And sixty euros. Plus a free travel pass and a discount at a gym you never went to. Plus a yearly bonus!

This revelation seemed to snap him out of his trance-like admiration of you.

"A month?" His tone held an edge of horror and for once, it felt good to see him rattled.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. His gaze was filled with genuine sympathy. It wasn't such a terrible salary - it was above the country's average after all!

"I see," he murmured. "This explains your living situation. My dear Anya, don't let anyone under-value you; your time is worth far more than that. As for your current predicament - and I confess to having contributed to it - I will make amends."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain leather wallet. You couldn't resist taking a look yourself; there was a government ID card, a driver's licence and several other cards you couldn't identify. He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it over.

"I'll let my banker know you're authorized," he said. “He will contact you with regards to security details”.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," you quickly interjected, pride sparking in your chest. "I can fend for myself."

"Don’t you ever say no to me," Raphael warned with a playful edge to his voice as he pulled you closer into his arms. "It won't end well."

His jesting tone didn't quite mask the threat in his words, but you couldn't help but grin. Whatever he says, the very way he says it is just so nice. 

"I'd rather have a job," you said, not sure if you were actually that eager to get back into the corporate grind.

"Then I shall arrange one for you," he grinned. "A prestigious position under a very demanding superior. It will keep you very, very occupied."

You were pretty sure that position was not what you went to college for. Then again, didn't he say yesterday that he had a job for you? 

"Consider it limitless," Raphael added nonchalantly while your fingers traced the cool metal of the credit card. "If you manage to find its limit, consider me thoroughly impressed."

Did he want you to splash out on new clothes and the like? But there were more pressing matters at hand. Your mum had just cleared her towering credit card debt and was in need of some expensive dental work. The local cat shelter was on the brink of closure and rent was due.

"I actually wanted to help my mum out a bit, if that's okay, she's, ugh"... you started, rolling the credit card in your hands. 

"Anya," Raphael interrupted sternly. "You shall have whatever you wish for.”

You nodded and looked into his eyes, remembering the pleasure of lying under him yesterday and how much you wanted to do so again. 

"About last night," you said. "Should I take the morning-after pill..."

Raphael shook his head in disbelief.

"You Catholic girls... No need for that considering our activities last night, but even if there was...I've always envisioned having a family but never found the right woman."

It's such a stupid cliché, you thought, as your stomach fluttered and you let him lean in for a kiss. 

But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he really meant it. He had such a horrible life in hell. Maybe you were the first one…

…the actual first one, the one…

Right . You still don't want to die in childbirth, however flattering Raphael’s words might be. If you pay for Plan B with his credit card, will he see it? Nah, better use your own.

"...right," you murmured against his mouth, then remembered what else was bothering you. "And could you please tell your colleagues that we are together?".

Were you even together, you wondered in sudden fear, but Raphael nodded:

"I'll make it very much known, if that's what you wish for."

Your heart pounded in agreement. The more people knew, the more tangible it felt.

As Raphael's lips melted against yours, you glanced at his shadow on the wall and smiled; he must have thought you were looking at the confessional, for apparently the horned outline of his own shadow was not bizarre to him.

"Would you like to confess? I could absolve you of all sins" Raphael whispered in your ear, his hand slowly but surely tracing the full curve of your arse, still sore from his tail-whipping. "I am afraid you have to commit them first, though”.

He gave it a light squeeze and you yelped; he seemed to revel in the sound.

"We're in the sacred house," you blushed, squirming under his very bold advances and enjoying them very much.

"Indeed we are," Raphael concurred, his hands yanking you into the shadowy Catholic confessional, shoving you in first. The image of him cloaked in his holy robes flashed in your mind and a giggle bubbled up at the sheer audacity of it all. “What better place for blasphemy?”

The cabin was barely big enough for the two of you, dimly lit and very narrow; meant for one person only, the other chamber remained empty, separated only by a small window. The smell of old wood and incense filled your nostrils as he closed the door behind you.

The last time you went to confession, you were a teenager and the priest was so old and ugly that no dirty thoughts crossed your mind; but now you suddenly realised that there was no hotter place on earth.

Raphael's lips brushed your earlobe, his stubble against your cheek, "Kneel before me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Show me how remorseful you are for cavorting with the Devil."

You weren’t sorry.

Not one bit. 

Without hesitation or second thoughts, just like you had before the chair yesterday, you sank to your knees in front of him. Something told you that this will become a familiar position for you in the days to come.

The moment your face was against his groin, Raphael undid his pants. His cock sprang out, large, reddish and throbbing; even better than you had imagined. You couldn't help but wrap your hands around it, almost in disbelief that this thing was so real and so eager for your mouth. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you licked it off, savouring the salty and musky taste. 

Raphael gasped above you, his body tense with pure lust. Your thighs clench together in excitement and you feel the soaked panties stick to your pussy as you feel him guide your head towards his cock.

“Repent, you little sinner”, Raphael muttered, his voice thick with lust. "Plead for your redemption."

Judging by his state, he should be the one pleading.

You teased him with slow, deliberate licks, the tip of your tongue tracing his frenulum up and down (he loved it). You nuzzled your cheek against his rigid shaft, a purr of satisfaction escaping your lips as you lavished it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each vein was a roadmap for you to follow, every inch of his cock kissed and licked with a fervour that bordered on reverence.

"Enough," he said. "I want to see the depth of your remorse".

Your tongue slid over the top of his head and your lips followed, parting as you slowly took him into your mouth. Raphael moaned and you echoed him, your voice pulsing against his shaft, the church walls echoing the unholy litany. You sucked his cock greedily, desperately, drawing him into a warm, needy vacuum, and the harder you tried, the wetter you became. 

You wanted to give Raphael the blowjob of his millennium; you gave everything to serve him, saliva slicking down his shaft, down your chin, down your t-shirt, as every muscle in your mouth worked hard for his pleasure. The world around blurred into nothingness; all you could focus on was the dark thatch of hair framing his groin and the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of you. 

No one ever wanted to suck him off as much as you did, as deep and sloppy and messy as you did. You liked the scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sound of him; everything about him; you’d love to suck him dry. 

“Keep going”, Raphael let out a moan of such desperate pleasure it could be pain. "Dare to stop and I promise you'll taste hellfire."

As if you had any intention of stopping; this was an act of worship you could perform for eternity.

You glanced up; he was sweated, chestnut locks clinging to his forehead, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his face, and you felt more powerful than ever in your life. He tugged his necktie loose and opened the collar, his breathing coming out harsh and shallow. He was at your mercy; at the mercy of your tongue and throat.

Raphael bucked his hips, desperate to thrust in your mouth, and you let him take control; let him grab and hold your head while you simply hang in his grip, pliant and passive, as his cock jerked in and out. He went at it with such ferocity as if he hadn’t fucked for months; which you very well knew not to be true.

Gag reflex kicked in, your body threatening to revolt, and you repressed it with all the will you had, tears gathering in your eyes, and with each move of his hips it became more and more challenging. Thankfully, his bucking became more desperate; your mouth clamped down harder around his cock, and you let your tongue run up and down his shaft. 

You felt hot jets of liquid gush against your throat as Raphael cried out, his body shivered and he leaned forward as he came, and you felt stupid happy. A larger bit of his cum dribbled straight down your throat, the rest pooled in your mouth around his cock. 

“Swallow”, Raphael said, his voice deeper, rougher now. "Take all of me."

He was not going to pull out, not until every drop of him was inside you, so you made two very deliberate gulps, rolling the slight bitterness of his release on your tongue before you swallowed it all down.

Then you looked up at him like a starving animal - hungry for more. Your fingers carefully gathered the stray droplets of his cum and you greedily licked them off. As a final gesture, you kissed the tip of his cock, to which he cursed under his breath; something in Italian; whichever it was, it sounded hot. 

You grinned, licking your lips, so proud of yourself.

"You are divine," Raphael said as he pulled you up by your hair, pressing you hard against the confessional wall before claiming your lips in a rough kiss – tasting himself on them. "Divine. You are a treasure. I cannot believe my own luck. I cannot believe…”

In that moment, if he had told you he loved you, you would have believed him without hesitation.These very words were on the tip of your tongue but you chose to channel it all into the kiss.

The priest's footsteps echoed through the church, amplified by the silence.

"Li ho presi," he happily announced. 

Raphael hastily adjusted his clothing, looking genuinely embarrassed for a brief moment. The two of you stumbled out of the confessional, not exactly gracefully. 

From the pastor's expression, you could tell he understood what had happened between you and Raphael in the confessional. Your faces were flushed and your hair was disheveled from his hands tugging and pulling on it. Your damp chin, which you hastily wiped with your sleeve, only made things more obvious.

“...Raul," Flavio chided with a tone heavy with disapproval. "I still hope to wed you in this very church, but you're making it exceedingly difficult."

His eyes didn’t even glance at you; apparently, any attempt at salvation or reprimand was wasted on you now.

"I donate millions to this church,” Raphael retorted dismissively, dusting off imaginary lint from his shoulders. "If you want others to overlook certain things, you should be prepared to do the same."

The Father raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over some documents to Raphael.

With that, the audience was over.

The angel statues glared down at you with undisguised contempt; particularly the one clutching a sword. That’s exactly why people turn to devils, you judgemental winged pricks on high horses, you thought. You rolled the aftertaste of devil's cum on your tongue and thought that going to heaven was definitely not in your near future.

Exiting the church, you were met by two armed men standing guard at the doors. For a moment, you thought you were being apprehended for lewd conduct in public. Raphael's security, you realized.. Of course he had security. Both looked like dark, looming, emotionless twin shadows. What were they really? Cambions? Orthons? Surely no one could truly harm him?

You clutched closer to Raphael, his lips brushing your forehead as he attended another phone call.

“Mamma mia,” he blurted out mere moments after he picked up, and a chuckle escaped you at how stereotypically Italian he sounded. You hadn't realized that was an actual phrase they used. His furrowed brows and concerned tone quickly sobered up the mood though, "What happened? Where? Was it on Main Street?"

He looked genuinely troubled and you offered silent comfort by intertwining your fingers with his. He responded with a reassuring squeeze.

“One of my juniors got into a...”, he told you as soon as he had hung up. “Into some macabre road accident”.

Hit by a bus, you realized with a jolt but kept your silence.

You had to witness it yourself.

Without a word, you followed Raphael to the crash scene, the wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances echoing in your ears. Security trailed along behind, all of you making your way through the gathering crowd.

The sight that greeted you was both mundane and horrifying, in a way that only real life could be. The bus stood askew, its once deep blue body now painted with crimson streaks. And there, on the cold pavement, was...splattered…what was left of a person. 

"I don't know what happened," an older Asian man sobbed nearby, his words falling on deaf ears. "I swear I've been driving this thing for twenty years, I swear I was not drunk..."

The policewoman stood tall and stern above him, her arms crossed in a way that made it clear she had already formed her judgement. Some other kind soul actually offered him an anti-shock blanket. Some less kind souls were taking pictures of their phones. News reports were arriving, too.

This poor man probably had a family to support. What would happen to him now?

You could handle all the exaggerated violence and gore on television, but you absolutely could not watch the man sprawled out on the pavement in real life; or at least what was left of him. It reminded you of the cherry pudding from the evening before. You could see his broken glasses scattered haphazardly on the ground and tears welled up in your eyes. 

He was a jerk, sure, but he was also mortal, like you. Now he lay dead, wrapped in plastic sheets, and it could have easily been you.

Where was he now? Did Raphael claim his soul? 

Did you cause his death?

You didn't mean for it to happen. Well, maybe you did, but...

“Don’t look, piccola,” Raphael murmured in your ear, his hand shielding your eyes. “You fainted over a cherry pudding once; this is by far worse. Damn it! My youngest and most promising. Just twenty-seven years old and newly engaged. An absolute tragedy.”

The same age as you.

"I'm sorry... he was so rude to me," you choked out between sobs. "I didn't think..."

“Anya, please, it's none of your fault,” Raphael’s voice softened. “Just the cruelty of fate; an accident. We cannot be held responsible for such misfortunes”.

“No?”, you asked with a faint hope.

You were not a bad person, even if you were fucking the devil; in fact, you were going to splurge his credit card on all the animal shelters and children battling cancer to make up for what you had just did. You were not a bad person.

You were not a murderer, no, no, no.

“No,” he repeated and then a slight smile, completely inappropriate to the moment, touched his lips. “Except when very much are responsible; unless we made it happen.”

Raphael’s words made you flinch slightly but he maintained his hold on you.

Yeah, well, you did that, you wanted to say, I did nothing, I only wished for it.

“The driver must have been under the influence,” he continued . “I cannot conceive any other reason for running over a pedestrian at a red light.”

You breathed out. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, burned rubber and the scent of blood; metallic smell of death.

“Oh, you look rattled, poor thing, look at those tears”, he cooed and offered you a handkerchief with his initials on it. “Anya, love, my apologies, but I have to attend to this immediately. There’s going to be press, rumors that we work people to death that’s why he was not looking around. I need to be there for my company”.

For the company?

“…And for his family, of course”, Raphael added as if reading your thoughts. “That’s his fiance over there, I suppose. Oh, take her away, you morons…”

There she was, the woman in a suit, wailing like a banshee, as somebody tried to hold her close and hug her. What she had seen just now she would never, ever forget. 

Raphael held both your shoulders and rotated you to face him.

“You.. you know what? Go shopping, distract yourself a bit. Then call my driver to take you to my place. We'll spend the evening together”.

His words were met with a hollow nod from your side. You cast another side glance at the accident, and he  gently turned your face towards him again.

"And learn when to look away," Raphael murmured, punctuating his advice with a soft kiss on your lips, "It's an essential survival skill."

[ccscocoapuffs]

Can I request a Tama Tonga smut

Insatiable isn't the word to describe Tama's sex drive after matches. Hence why I find myself where I myself where I am now, underneath the fiend of a man while his relentless thrusting throws me into a rhythm of pleasure.

"You like that Princess? feels good huh, daddy's fat fucking cock rearranging your insides". I throw my head back in pleasure not only at the feeling of his cock thrusting so deeply but from the way he spoke to me in times like this.

Tama's hand came up and wrapped around my throat as he continued to speak "Can I taste you My love?, lemme taste that perfect pussy" "Fuck...yes please Tama". I couldn't help but acknowledge the devilish smirk that appeared on his face as he pulled out of me and leaned his head down to my soaking heat.

"I can smell how fucking wet you are baby" "Tama...please" "Patience, Kitty cat, let daddy take his time with you". He stuck his tongue out giving my clit a soft lick as I moaned out his name. "Good girl, kitty cat".

Tama's mouth latched onto my pussy as he sucked and swirled his tongue relentlessly inside of my soaking hole. His deep growls only turned me on more as he began to push a finger inside of me.

"Holy fuck...right there, Daddy! right there !" "Shhhhh, daddy knows what he's doing, I don't need you telling me, kitten, I know where to touch you, understand?". I couldn't form words as he curled his fingers right into my G-spot perfectly.

"I asked you a question!" "Yes I understand, daddy, I promise" "Good girl". Tama dived back into his relentless pleasure he was giving to my now aching pussy as I wrapped my hands into his hair and pulled tightly on the dark hair that adorned his head.

"I'm gonna cum....fuck tama, im cumming!" He looked up and locked eyes with me for a moment as I threw my head back at the intense orgasm now rushing through my body. I couldn't help but whine when I felt him pull his fingers out of my now sopping wet pussy and begin to suck the wetness off of them into his mouth. "You ready for this cock again baby?, ready for me to fill you up?".

Tama leaned down and let out a deep guttural growl in my ear as I closed my eyes at the feeling of his hot breath against the nape of my neck. "Mmmmmm, Tama, please fuck me" "With Pleasure, Princess"

I moaned out as I waited for Tama to enter back inside of me though the feeling never came as I squirmed on the bed that for some reason had now became uncomfortable. I groaned in annoyance as I felt the strangled pull from a dream I had found so sweet.

I opened my eyes to be greeted with the walls of the bloodline dressing room. "Fucking fantastic" I sat up on the couch rubbing the sleep from my eyes in the frustrated state I awoke in from yet another wet dream of Tama.

As my eyes focused I looked across the room to see a very shocked and red faced Jacob Fatu. "Hey.." "Oh god, how long have you been here?!?" "long enough to figure you have a bit of a crush on Tama" "Oh god, I'm leaving, I can never look you i the eyes again".

I quickly gathered my things as I now had to live with the embarrassment of what Jacob had walked in on. I heard Jacob shout loudly behind me as I quickly walked throughout the hallway in hopes of reaching my car before anyone else say me in my horribly embarrassed state. "If it makes you feel any better, I think he like you too!" I turned back down and yelled back at the man, I had come to know as a friend in the past few weeks "Shut Up Jacob!".

"What'd he do?" I turned back around to be greeted with the sight of Tama, Solo, and Tonga. I quickly push past them and continued my quick paced walk to my car.

"The hell you say to her?" "She had a um..dream about Tama and I sorta walked in while she was napping". "See this is why we tell you stop showing up so damn early". Tonga simply looked at Solo and Jacob as the two bickered and rolled his eyes before turning to Tama. "Go talk to that poor girl, and ask her out finally". Tama let out at grunt as me turned a slight shade of red and began walking in the same direction in which you had went moments before.

As he walked away he couldn't help but hear the shout of Jacob down the hall "Don't worry I'm sure she'll say yes! wear protction though!" . Tama rolled his eyes as he continued walking "Idiot".

A/N: I hope this is okay, i haven't done much writing for Tama but based on the requests I'm getting there's gonna be a lot more of him Lmao. I also haven't wrote an actually story in quite a while as well so it felt good to get back into writing more in depth things.

[ad-hawkeye]

a big list of my favorite little alkaid moments

[modern] being found absolutely conked out in the snow on the mountain. that's one way to have a meet cute i guess.

[modern] alkaid's "morning call service" where he calls mc each morning pretending to be a hotel help desk staff member reminding her to wake up... only to keep it short sometimes because he can't bring himself to wake her up

[modern] whatever sort of Beep inside joke they have going on where they pretend to make a reservation or selection for each other

[modern] alkaid requesting to do the ET finger touch thing when talking about aliens with mc

[modern] mc claiming that she's the dangerous one of the two when it comes to her and alkaid.

[modern] beanie and sparkles having cat play dates. alkaid also using "sparkles would like to see beanie" as an excuse to see mc.

[modern] the only time this alkaid had a murderous look in his eyes was when someone tried to hurt sparkles.

[modern] "hey don't feel down! as long as you try your best, you can definitely become a horrible person!" "......! well if you really think so, then i'll give it a try."

[modern] alkaid being a natural flirt to the point where he doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, but being unable to take what he dishes by getting blushy or bashful when mc flirts with him instead.

[modern, halloween] alkaid absolutely struggling to put on the angel wings for his costume and needing mc to help him get the second wing on.

[modern, halloween] mc lamenting that she can't resist eating some of the candy she makes and alkaid being like. oh no. no, that's not falling to temptation, that's just taste testing. and it is Totally your duty.

[modern, halloween] alkaid apologizing for being too forward even though all he did was say he liked mc's bouquet for him the most. someone lock this man up, we are NOT safe with him on the streets.

[modern, princess day] alkaid being "deathly terrified of screwing up" bartending for princess day for mc so he practices.. for hours…. and hours…

[modern, love day] if mc chooses to look at the scenic photos alkaid took at the carnival, alkaid will jokingly claim the ones of him and her are now his and yoink them away from her

[modern, love day] alkaid saying mc can act like a cat when she visits his place, only for her to meow at him and step on his foot

[godheim] alkaid asking for a hug before he overexerts his magic and then goofily proclaiming that he's "so scandalous!" before giving mc another side hug.

[godheim] mc and alkaid's banter where alkaid initially says "good girl" to her for keeping her eyes closed during his magical overexertion, only for mc to say "you're being such a good boy" to his frozen body in the carriage, where his eyelids just barely twitch in vague annoyance.

[godheim] speaking of being frozen. he heard and saw everything mc did while he was in that state. so that was definitely him responding to her. he also remembered her kissing him. he refuses to answer mc when she asks if he was conscious.

[godheim] zack calling alkaid out on wearing his old mage outfit simply bc mc likes it. alkaid just smiles and is like hey. quiet. you might wake her up and she'll hear. that's not how you treat the guy who saved your life 🥺🥺

[godheim] alkaid's support for ayn and mc during ayn's route and helping the two of them escape.

[godheim] during the hunting event, alkaid has to be forced into participating by lars' orders. even then he still doesn't participate and proceeds to buy all of the meat at the market place with the money he and mc made off of his magic tricks. he claims this is definitely not cheating. mc agrees.

[eden] there's not a ton for eden since that world's alkaid is the equivalent of a sopping wet pitiful cat, but there's something endearing about alkaid learning all of his social graces and dating etiquette from old books. the prefect had to sit and watch all of this like some sort of long suffering older brother forced to play dolls or whatever

[eden] alkaid panicking and running off when mc asked him to find the missing boy who called for help.

[eden] out of all of the things he could have chosen to wear, alkaid picks out this like. coquette?? pretty boy tuxedo? WITH a cunty little earring? good for him... good for him!

[eden] he also makes a bunch of little model dioramas with houses, gardens and people in them. if he ever went to the modern world he would LOVE michael's.

[eden] in his epilogue, alkaid remade his little lantern with him and mc in it because she was the only one who could stir any kind of feeling in him after losing his emotions. he gets very embarrassed if she finds this out.

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

♡︎𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮♡︎

Day 7 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: Katsuki wants to see you come undone with just the help of his thigh.

Props to my beta reader for today @sasualblxd - thank you for your amazing help! Bae I couldn't have done this without you <3

987 words.

Katsuki wants to try something new. He's dressed all smart after a formal meeting concerning hero work, clad in a pretty, light grey suit - tailored perfectly to wrap around muscular thighs like a glove. The colour reminds you of the sky on a wintery afternoon, accompanied by a smart black shirt underneath that complements him much more than the standard white. He's in his business casual, and obviously, you're obsessed. But you might have a biased opinion.

One of his signature smirks tugs at the corner of his lips, dimpling his cheek and threatening to turn your world upside down with the swift 'come hither' of his fingers. The smug ash blonde summons you forward with the enticing motion, drawing all of your attention and delighting in it. He loves to be the very centre of all your thoughts.

The meeting has since come to a close, and thus Katsuki teases you in your shared room after work, placing firm, rough hands on wide hips and guiding you to sit on just one of his thighs. Every now and again he would shake his leg beneath you, knowing exactly what he's doing to you in the process, your skirt pooling over his pelvis.

He delights in the fact that you're only wearing a thin pair of underwear underneath, and slowly, he grabs your waist with steady hands like he has many times before, pulling you forward and guiding you to straddle him.

Now that you were finally home, the thought did cross his mind to simply strip you and take you against the front door, but he was feeling especially evil. Is it horrible that he just wants to see you squirm?

You're already wet from just the hungry looks he'd been giving you on the way home, and desperately wanted to just jump his bones the second you got home. All you've been able to think about is how fucking irresistible he looks in a suit. He exudes confidence and competence in waves and the bulging muscle that strains beneath that shirt naturally has your eyes locked on him and your belly on fire like a cat in heat. You just need to be taken care of by this man, and you've been so close to tearing your hair out in frustration all day.

There's a dark spot on your underwear which brings to attention just how long you've been waiting for this, and he fully understands the anticipation. Only God knows how much mental strain was put behind trying to ward off a boner mid-meeting. You have been driving him fucking nuts. Now it's time for punishment.

Soft kisses spark at his skin and echo through the room while you grind on his thigh, your body pressed flush against his chest and your breasts cushioning his chin. You couldn't be happier to finally be getting some sort of relief, needily rutting your hips against his soft, squishy quadricep.

"That's it, baby, want you to ride my thigh."

Oh, how your stomach ties knots at the sound of his voice. It's gruff and underlined by lust, his hands firmly on your sides and helping you move against him smoothly, a wet patch of your anticipation starting to form on his pant leg. He groans as you grind on him, pressing a kiss to your neck and smoothing his hand to slip under your shirt.

The dip of your waist fits perfectly in his hand, it's almost like you were made for him.

The most delectable little gasps and moans leave your mouth as you do exactly what you were told, and Katsuki drinks them all up as he kisses you like a man addicted to your taste. His lips trail down your jaw and your neck to your breasts which press against his face, and he clicks his tongue at the fact that your shirt is buttoned, guiding you to undo those buttons for him.

When the top of your cleavage finally begins to show, Katsuki immadiately decides that he wants to paint your breasts with his hickeys and love bites, making your pussy clench against him. He can feel you twitching and throbbing against him and his own need twitches in the confines of his suit pants, creating a noticeable bulge.

Katsuki isn't quite the most patient of men, however, and slowly his hand slips under the pleated, black fabric of your skirt and past soft, cotton underwear to play with your clit. He's always prided himself in being the only one in his friend group who can actually find the clit, except Mina, obviously. But you failed to notice the impact that had on his ego until it was far too late.

It's kind of sexy, in a way. He gets off on being a good lover. It's the kind of trait in a man most women can only dream of. So you really didn't mind.

What you do mind, though, is the fact that you're already close to cumming in your underwear after barely minutes of this. Soft panted moans fill the room as you struggle to keep your composure, amusing your boyfriend as he presses his fingers down harder into your clit to tease you.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. You like that? Come on, I want you to cum, you think you can do that for me?..."

It only takes a few more seconds of his ministrations and the feeling of his breath agains your neck, sending shivers down your spine, for you to unravel in his arms.

Your thighs tremble and shake as your essence drips between your legs, Katsuki's pants soaked in your need. The sight causes as low chuckle to rumble in his chest even despite the little crescent moons you dig into his his back in your attempt at grounding yourself.

"Fuck-... 'so fuckin' sexy... 'm gonna fuckin' wreck you, baby."

All you can manage in response is a little whimper.

© 2022 not-your-fucking-kacchan

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

[marivoid]

Entry 31

Day 223

This is him. One of the only people that can help me find The Doctor. The Heavy-Body Builder.

One problem: The man is the definition of "Looks scary, is a wet cat of a man." He definitely TRIED to be intimidating, but he failed pretty miserably at it when I met him after being unconscious for 10 days.

(Yes I did a double take. I still can't believe I was out for THAT long)

Picture this: Me walking towards a towering city of collapsing buildings with dust filled air. Eyes focused on the small blinks of light that just barely escape the smog- I'm thinking that I've finally made it! Comparator City!

And then I get absolutely BODIED by a huge hunk of metal. I wish I were kidding. My poor spine! My arm! It got freaking CRUSHED! I was sent flying a decent few feet and ended up crashing into an old light pole (Again. OW.) All that I can remember happening next is that same hunk of metal approaching me and some guy jumping out of it. But then... Well. I was out like a light.

Managed to wake up (after what felt like) a few hours later and oh GOODNESS did it hurt. My back, my right side, my stump of an arm- It all hurt! But there was somebody in the very dim room with me. The same person that crawled out of that hunk of metal.

"Thank goodness you're awake!" He had said when I first gained consciousness. "I was worried that you wouldn't stabilize! You've been unconscious for over a week!"

"I've been WHAT?!" And of course, when I sat up I saw the damage the man had done to me. Machines were strapped all over my body, an IV drip sticking out of my arm (Where he found a clean needle I will not ask.) a whole heart rate monitor- He was stacked! But from the state of everything, he was telling me the truth. "You knocked me unconscious for a week?!"

"Well it's r-really been ten days-"

"TEN DAYS?!"

"Yes- Yes I know it sounds absolutely horrible but! But! You're recovering at an accelerated rate! You should be good to go in a few days? Maybe three? The experimental drug is working great for you!" He had been blabbering and talking so fast that I nearly missed that detail.

"Experimental- I'm sorry, EXPERIMENTAL DRUG?" Of course I had been outraged back then. (Even looking back now I'm still a bit ticked off at being used as a guinea pig for a drug that could have killed me, but hey! I'm alive now!) "You used an EXPERIMENTAL DRUG to heal me."

"Yes! And it worked!" He stepped away from me to grab my prosthetic arm. "And! And I managed to upgrade your arm! It got destroyed- Again I'm so sorry about that- but hey! At least now your map and compass aren't an extra item to carry around!"

"So you fixed the nerve sensors? The solar panels?"

"Uh- No. Unfortunately I don't have access to the receptors or the proper solar panels you need." He had explained while reattaching my arm. "But! But, it works a lot like mine!" He flashed his brass arm, glowing a soft red. "It's powered by redstone! Should last you a solid month before you need to recharge it!"

And there was the main problem. "How in the ever loving hell do I get this 'redstone' stuff? Heck, where could I even get it?"

"Easy! Me!" He flicked on a lever on the backside of my arm and it felt... Nice at the time. Sturdy. Like it wouldn't die on me when I needed it most. "I use the Parrot System, so as long as you can get mail through the Parrots you should be good!"

"... The who?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you this man began to glow with embarrassment. I mean he LITERALLY glowed. Pointy ears and face turning a bright red that GLOWED.

"Right, uh- The parrots! They're one of the middle tier delivery birds! I'm friends with their Flight Master! I... I take it you have no idea who I'm talking about."

"Not a damn clue."

"First of all, watch your tongue. Second! That's okay! I should have enough in store that should last you about three months- But you really need to find the Flight Masters. They'll help you in the long run."

When he stopped his rambling I focused on the newly upgraded arm. It is always a weird sensation, flexing a limb that's not really there. But the small tug of metal fingers and steel plates listening to one's mind is even weirder. And I mean REALLY weird.

"Who... Exactly are these Flight Masters?" I managed to ask him after a few moments of silence. "How do you... Get under their wing?"

"That-" The man paused and the red glow only grew. "That was a horrible pun-" He has a really nice laugh. Small but breathless.

"But it works! I mean, they have to be Birds of a Feather to Fly together-"

"Stop! Stop, no!"

"When am I going to stop, huh?! Never!" And then I started to laugh. I think it was just my mind needing something to focus on other than the glaring new arm attached to my body.

"Goodness you may be worse than Gri-" His laughter died when he barely mentioned a name. I couldn't get all of it, but it must be the Flight Master.

"Worse than...?"

"Y-You will find out eventually." His tune changed from that point going forward.

He eventually gave me his name (Mumbo) and gave me a quick summary of the three Flight Masters.

The Canary: Flight Master of the small, yellow birds that linger around Comparator City. Used by the residents of said city. Apparently the easiest one to befriend.

The Parrot: Flight Master of the robotic parrots that fly around all over the Crashlands. They're more tricky to get a hold of as they have a whole database on who's a customer and who's not. Need to find the Parrot Flight Master in order to get on the list.

The Crow: Flight Master of the Murders. Every crow I have seen so far apparently belongs to Him. And apparently the only way to find him is a mystery to even Mumbo. All I can do is hope for the best with that one.

That was all the information he was willing to tell me. Apparently I struck a nerve by getting him to almost spill the name of the Parrot Flight Master. I'm still resting in this small room, letting myself recover from being plowed by that big old machine.

I even tried asking him what that THING was that he hit me with! But he just shook his head and said it was a prototype I shouldn't bother myself with.

Things are just getting really overwhelming now. So much information to process. How do I find the Canary? Or hell, the Parrot? I'm not even going to TOUCH the subject of the Crow. What about the Demon? Is he still around? Is he in Comparator City? Will I run out of the weird redstone dust before I find the Parrot?

So many questions.

Too little answers.

I think I'm just going to shut off my mind for a little bit.

MLW

G.U.I.D.E. 67

[dontlikeconflict]

“I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world”

It’s so quiet, it’s always quiet now. The town surrounding Castiel was filled with vacant buildings, abandoned homes, and so many items scattered showing the hasty way that the people had to flee (if they were lucky enough to get away). Cas missed when there was noise everywhere, when there were cars, and children playing, when he could walk in a crowd and not be seen as the angel of death. The one who tells them to flee, the one who stands in wait.

It had become like a sick game over the years. Dean moved, ravaging everything in sight, and Cas did all he could to stay one step ahead. To herd people away, to warn them that he was coming. And then he does what he’s doing now, he waits for Dean. Tries to plan what he could possibly say or do. There have been times when it felt like he was close, when he got through to him even for a moment, but those moments always passed. Most recently when they had fought, there was a moment when he held Dean firm, angled towards the body of a woman that he had effortlessly cut away from this world, and made him look. Forced his eyes to her blonde hair, and her pale skin, and spoke in his ear of those he loved who could have easily been this woman: Jo, Mary, Jessica. Cas spoke their names like a prayer, hoping they would embed themselves deep in Dean’s skin, deeper than the mark could reach. Hoping the blood seeping into this dead girl's hair wasn't for nothing.

 But it was. 

The number of dead only continued to rise, and the shining light of Dean Winchester's soul only continued to darken. And all Cas could do was try, do as he had always done and follow Dean, to the very end. 

“Just you and me again Cas?” Dean didn't try to hide, or sneak as he approached, they both knew Cas couldn't kill him (he had tried before) “Where's the rest of the party?”

“Dean.” Despite himself, he felt warm. Every time he got to set eyes on his friend without fresh blood on his hands, felt like a blessing. With everyone they had loved long gone, all they had was each other, for better or for worse. 

“Still doing this cat and mouse bit? I move and you scurry?” his face was blank, no smile, no frown; like he was a god - or devil - forced to speak to an ant. 

Some part of Cas could never stop seeing his Dean, troubled since he was a child but still always the brightest light in any room, at least to Cas. His soul was so full of love, the prime motivator for all his actions, leading him to pain over and over again. Cas could still see that soul, twisted and deformed by the mark, like thick scars, covering almost every surface. But still, there was always the memory of fresh skin, of the very thing that willed the wounds to heal. That was what was left of Dean’s once bright soul, scar tissue, desperately trying to recreate what was there before. 

“What if I said no?” it was said before he had a chance to pull it back. A thought that had lingered in his mind for so long, one so tempting. No matter what he did, The Mark continued to push, murdering everything it could, consuming infinitely. Nothing could stop it, Castiel could not stop it. Effort, hope, love, none of these things could defeat The Mark. None of these things could bring Dean back from the hell he had created. And Cas knew even if the mark disappeared, the selfless man he knew, the righteous man, would never be able to deal with what he had done, how many he had taken from this world, the cries and begs that he met with the horrible wet thud of the first blade as it sunk into flesh, not sharp enough to fully slice, but not blunt enough to just bruise. 

Dean didn't respond to the vague statement, just stared at Cas, just as angry and hollow as that day all those years ago, when the angel had warned him of this very moment. The horror that Dean had forced him to watch. Looking into those eyes, Cas knew it was time.

“We’ve been through much together, you and I” It was hard not to tear up as he tried to think of all the things he wanted to say “It may be selfish of me but I do not regret saving you”

Dean still stared, his eyes still cold. Cas thought maybe that was for the best.

“Knowing you has changed me, I am the person I am, because of you”

Cas allowed his blade to fall from his sleeve into his hand, Dean’s eyes fall on it, before looking back to his face. 

“And even though you are no longer the Dean Winchester I once knew, I still consider you my family. The only family I have left, as I know I am yours”

Cas stepped forward, slowly, blade in hand until the two were less than a meter apart.

“You saved the world many times over Dean, maybe it is fitting that you are the one to end it. Maybe since you saved me, it too is fitting…” 

Cas flips the blade, holding the handle out to Dean 

“That you end me too.”

They look at each other for an age, Cas’ eyes tearful, Deans hollow. A million lifetimes worth of connection between them, whether it is wanted or not.

It's slow as Dean’s hands reach up to take the blade, not a mad rush of bloodlust, but the natural conclusion to their story. An ending that was always there on the horizon, inevitable and all-encompassing. Castiel always knew he would die for Dean Winchester. 

When the blade sinks into his heart, he knows it is final, God has abandoned them and there is no one to bring him back. Dean's hands come up to lower his dying body to the ground, but his eyes are still dark. All scar tissue, nothing left.

AO3