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asterias-record-shop · 1 year ago

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Hello! For the bingo thing could you please do maid!reader with Andrew Garfield/Peter Parker with prompt # 5 or 9 where reader makes a mistake and she gets punished! Please and thank you !! I also love your writing!

—𓆩[you missed a spot]𓆪—

thank you so much anon!!

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𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Billionaire! TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Maid! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - As soon as Peter graduated college with his degree, he was gone. No one appreciated him enough, so he was going to show them — all of them. After making billions with everything he made and keeping his alter ego a secret, the only thing he’s missing is someone to share his life with, but you quickly fill that whenever you come in applying for his maid job.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || no romantic relationships with Gwen but she still died || Peter has an alcohol problem || my poor baby is lonely :( || but you fix that!! || lots of timeskips || kind of fast acting relationship? || kinda mixed universes in a way? Gwen died but Peter is still friends with Harry, idk he needs friends don’t question it || you do like to cook and clean sorry comes with the job || peter’s spidey-senses pick up on your ovulating || Peter gets drunk and does stupid shit || I got carried away I’m so sorry- || smut, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, cumming, this was definitely more plot based ||

Peter didn’t understand why he needed a maid per Harry’s request until he came home after a two week business trip in Milan. It made sense when he saw all the dust buildup on things he barely touched, the fact that his house wasn’t actually a home made it different.

His house hadn’t been a home since he moved in, but he might as well take care of the multimillion dollar home.

From there, he started interviews. At first, it was just him and dozens of women who were either too fan-crazy for the billionaire or too bland.

That was when Harry stepped in, joining in on the interviews as Peter tried to sleep. He was really fucking tired after a night full of hero things, Harrison being his little voice in the suit making sure he didn’t fall asleep on the Statue of Liberty.

It wasn’t until he heard your voice that he was wide awake, watching as you sat down in the chair in front of his mahogany desk of his study.

His study made him feel extremely rich.

“It’s Y/N, right?” Harrison asked, his cheeks already tinted pink as you nodded.

“Yes! Yes, it is. Uhm, it’s nice to meet you-”

“Harrison,” he offered his hand, your smile slightly faltering before you took it. “Harrison Osborne. Friends call me Harry.”

“Well uhm… isn’t this for a position for mister uhm…” you look down at your resume where you had the name at the top. “Mr. Peter Parker.”

You were the first one to actually notice that, or at least voice it out.

“That’s right,” Peter spoke up, leaning forward to look at you. “That’s me, you can just call me Peter.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you!” Your smile was back immediately, a giggle falling from your lips as you took your hand from Harry’s and pushed it forward to offer it to him. “My name is Y/N L/N, I’m here to apply for your cooking and cleaning job.”

“His maid job,” Harrison corrected you as Peter firmly shook your hand, your face twisting. “I mean, you would be his maid. It’s a live-in position, but you would cook, clean, wash his clothes, what else do maids do?”

“I-I’m aware I would also be doing those things,” you say quickly, swallowing. “I’m not sure if that was clear.”

“It was,” Peter smiled at you. “Why do you want this job?”

“Well, I was a personal chef for two years, and then I filled in maid positions for people who were elderly that couldn’t do it themselves. I enjoyed it because I like to clean and cook for people.” You say, smiling at Peter who quickly found himself smiling back at you.

There was something about you he just liked.

“When can you start?”

You pause, gaping. “I-I… are you sure you don’t want to see my résumé? O-Or-”

“Were you lying about something?”

Your face scrunches, but you shake your head. “No, of course not! I just-”

“Well, if you want the job, it’s yours,” Peter interrupted, smiling. “So, you can have your stuff moved in tomorrow and can start the day after. Sounds good?”

He watched as you paused, picking at the edge of the manilla folder before nodding. “Sounds great, Mr. Parker.”

You have gotten perfectly settled over the past few months. You memorized every inch of Peter’s house, making sure everything was clean when he was gone and even cleaner when he was here.

Peter didn’t really eat at home much though, but you weren’t going to let your culinary degree go to waste.

So, for breakfast, you decided on making him some classic chicken and waffles with a cup of coffee and some fruit. You knew he was used to eating out for quite literally every meal, but you thought it would be better for him to eat from home more often, even if his body showed no proof of his bad eating habits.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Peter had just gotten done with his morning workout, the savory smell of fried chicken and the sweet pancakes making him smile. “Wow. It smells so good.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” His words make you giggle, but you tried to hide your blush as he walked toward you, his body shining with sweat and the small curls of hair leading down the v of his abdomen catching your eye before you look away. “I just thought you could eat something from home because you always get something delivered. You need to give my cooking skills a chance, Mr. Parker.”

“I’ve told you before to call me Peter,” he was close, taking another whiff until he noticed that the pancakes wasn’t the only thing that smelled sweet. “Y/N, you smell very nice. Really nice.”

You paused, gulping. You hadn’t put any heavy perfume on, just a light body mist and some deodorant. “Th-Thank you, Peter.”

He smiled when you said his name, humming softly as he came closer behind you, watching as you slowly moved around the chicken in the oil. “Please be careful. Don’t burn yourself, I’m going to jump in the shower real quick and I’ll be back. Will you eat breakfast with me?”

His words make you freeze, swallowing. “Y-You want me to eat with you?”

He tucked his face into your neck, taking another slight sniff to smell the sweet scent absolutely flooding off of your form, a soft gasp coming from your mouth making him pull away. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you just… you smell really nice, but it’s not like perfume. I-I’ll be right back.”

Peter quickly left you in the kitchen, your mind slightly hazy until you could smell the slight toastiness of the chicken, quickly taking it out and letting it settle on some paper towels as you finished cutting the fruit and cooking the waffles. You finished cleaning up and setting everything to the side, preparing both of your plates and setting it on the table as you waited for Peter.

Peter on the other hand was slamming his head on the wall of his shower. Did he really fucking sniff you?!

You probably thought he was so fucking weird, sniffing you and saying you smelled sweet. Oh but just that thought made a spark run down his back, his cock hardening. Maybe it was his spidey-senses kicking in where he smelled what was coming from you, but it was naturally sweet and making his mind hazy.

He couldn’t jack off, not when you were supposed to clean his room, restroom, and study today. So with a quick push of the touchscreen in the shower turning it to cold, his cock was quick to soften as he forced himself to think about something other than you.

It wasn’t long until he finished his shower, inhaling as he got dressed and went back downstairs, watching as you bent over the table and set down the plates. For fucks sake, he had just gotten his cock soft and there you were making him hard again.

“Oh, hey Peter,” you quickly saw him, smiling. “Breakfast’s ready, are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I am,” Peter smiled as he walked over, fixing his shirt. “You need help?”

“No, but if you want to grab your coffee from the counter, I made it just how you like it.” You smiled widely at him as you put down some silverware, Peter nodding as he grabbed his mug and your reusable cup that was filled with an iced coffee.

He sets it down where you were going to sit, pressing a soft touch to the small of your back as he smiled over your shoulder. “It looks so good, Y/N, thank you.”

You shrug, smiling back. “Just doing my job, Peter. Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head, pulling out the chair for you. “Sit down for me, Y/N.”

You do, sitting down as he pushes in your chair with a giggle. “Oh, you’re so sweet, Peter, thank you.”

“No, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled as he started to eat, both of you munching on the food you cooked in silence before you cleared your throat.

“I was going to clean your room, restroom, study, and do laundry. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Peter paused, looking down at his watch to see the date. “Uhm… do you mind doing the study another day, please? I’ll probably be in there the rest of the day.”

You nodded, sending him a slight smile. “Whatever you say, Peter.”

You both finished up eating fairly quickly, Peter thanking you for the food and walking to his study after putting his dishes in the sink and giving them a quick rinse. It makes you smile, thankful he didn’t leave all the sticky syrup on it as you washed the dishes, quickly going through everything you had to do throughout the day.

After making yourself lunch around 12:30, you made Peter a plate and went up to his study, knocking softly though you spoke loudly to ensure he heard you. “Peter? Peter, I made us some lunch, are you hungry?”

You could hear his voice, but it was weird, too soft and maybe even slightly slurred.

“I’m coming in!” You set the plate down on the floor along with the drink you gave him, walking in and gasping at the sight in front of you.

Peter looked a mess, the suit that he must’ve changed into absolutely horribly messy, his tie loose around his neck as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Oh… Y/N, you’re here,” his voice slurred as he smiled at you, four empty crystal bottles of liquor on his desk as he laughed. “You want some-” he hiccuped. “-you want a drink?”

“Peter, it’s barely noon.”

“I’m embracing-” he hiccuped again, laughing. “-my Britishness.”

“You’re not British, Peter,” you walked over, going around his desk to start collecting the bottles of liquor, wondering why he hadn’t passed out yet. “Come on, you need to get in the shower and-”

His arms wrapping around your waist makes you gasp, his face pressing into your side as he takes a deep inhale. “Fuck, Y/N, you smell so good. Don’t know what it is about you, you smell so good and look so pretty all the time, can never stop thinking about you.” He burped softly, chuckling. “Excuse me.”

You inhale deeply, trying to make sure you didn’t do anything rash as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt. “Peter, please let go of me.”

He inhaled, closing his eyes as he softly kissed against your back. “So, so fucking pretty. Can’t stop thinking about how you’d look-”

You were quick to try and push off his hands, his arms tightening as he let out a noise that basically sounded like a whine. “Peter, let go!”

“No, don’t leave,” Peter whispered, voice breaking as his fingers softly trail along the skin he exposed. “Please don’t leave.”

“Peter, let me go, now.” You whisper, straightening when you hear Harry’s voice.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are you? Peter? Peter!”

“Harrison!” You yelled out, pushing on Peter’s hands as you inhaled sharply. “Harrison, in the study!”

“Y/N?!” Harry’s voice was filled with concern as he rushed up the stairs, Peter’s hands freezing as he glared at the open door.

“Why is that fucking bastard here?” He basically growled, pulling you closer as he shot a web to close the door just as Harry got to it. “Not gonna let him take you from me like his dad took Gwen, I’m not gonna lose you.”

“Harry, get the door open!” You yelled, quickly pushing Peter’s hands off now that he was distracted, the only thing you could think about was getting away from Peter, especially his hands.

You didn’t blame him, not whenever he was drunk off his ass, but whatever he was doing must’ve been what he had been wanting to do, and that wasn’t right. It wasn’t going to happen when he was drunk and you were sober and he didn’t know the meaning of no.

“Wait, Y/N!” Peter’s voice was hoarse now that he was yelling, another web attaching you to the wall right next to the door. “You can’t leave, you can’t. You can’t leave me, can’t you see that I need you?”

You couldn’t focus on Peter and his watering eyes, his hands finding your hips as he pressed his face into your neck, taking another deep inhale – not when Harrison was yelling to get a ‘damn jackhammer or some shit!’ as you softly pressed your hands against Peter’s chest. “Peter please… please, stop.”

“I-I’m just… I’m just trying to keep you safe, can’t you see that?” He whispered, slowly taking the webbing off of your wrists. “I can’t keep you safe if you go running toward the danger.”

“Peter, Harry isn’t the danger-”

“I’m not going to let him take you from me like his father killed Gwen.” Peter’s voice was stern as he leaned forward, stroking your hair softly. “I’m not letting anything take you from me.”

You gasped when the door opened abruptly, Harry jumping onto Peter’s back and yelling at you. “Y/N, get out!”

You certainly didn’t have to be told twice, running out as Harry pushed a syringe into Peter’s neck, his fighting instinct being laggy because of the alcohol as it hadn’t worn off yet. You didn’t miss his scream as you ran into your room, closing and locking the door as you opened your closet, quickly grabbing your bag.

You had enough saved up to book a hotel room for almost three months – not a janky motel room, but a good, expensive one – besides, you would definitely need it after this. Shoving your clothes inside the bag and some necessities, you jumped when someone knocked on the door.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s me!” Harry announced, sighing softly. “Peter’s… Peter is sobering up. Can I come in?”

“No! I don’t want to see you!” You yelled, shaking your head. “Go away!”

“Y/N, let me in, please.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll answer any question you want, I swear… where are you going to go? You signed a three-year contract, Y/N, you can’t back out on it.”

“I’ll pay the got damn-”

“Five million?”

You pause, sighing. Curse rich people.

Slowly, you moved to the door and opened it. “Who’s Gwen?”

Harry walked in, sitting on your bed, explaining everything to you. “Gwen was a friend of Peters. She was in love with him, but he didn’t reciprocate the feelings, though he still stuck close by her because she knew his identity and wanted to keep her safe. My dad… my dad killed her. He was a villain, and he almost killed Peter.”

“So why is he still friends with you?” You whispered, confused.

“I still ask myself that question,” Harry shrugged, looking over at you. “Y/N, you don’t understand how in love he is with you.”

“I don’t care,” It was a lie and you knew it, but you wouldn’t be with someone who drowned his sorrows in alcohol. “I want to leave. Harrison, please… please, help me. Help me, I-I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“I can’t do that Y/N,” Harrison whispers, shaking his head as you reach for his hand. “Y/N, please-”

“Will he remember what he did?”

Harrison nods.

“I’ll stay only if he gets help. No other way.”

Peter did get help, lots of it. Therapy, both mental and for his slight dependence on alcohol.

You had been with him a little over a year, still unable to do anything even slightly romantic with him, including eating breakfast. You would go to the in home gym that he had every night like clock work, interrupting his nightly work out after dinner to see what he wanted for breakfast in the morning, but tonight it was different.

You walked into the gym, confused when you didn’t see him before you saw the lights on outside in the pool. The sight of him lounging in the hot tub smoking a cigar made your chest tighten as you walked out, notepad and pen in hand as you tilted your head.

“Peter, what are you doing?”

“Smoking, Y/N, I’m smoking.” His voice was strained, frustrated as his mouth twitched before he took another long drag. “I’m not drinking.”

“You’ve been sober for months, Peter.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he took another deep inhale. “Being sober and not having the urge to smoke are two different things, Y/N.”

You shake your head, sighing. “Oh Peter-”

“I’ll let you out of the contract,” Peter finally said, leaning his head back as you straightened and he let out a large plume of smoke. “There’s no point in you being here. Not anymore.”

“You’re sober now,” your voice comes out soft and hushed, Peter staring as you shake your head. “You wouldn’t do that again.”

Peter laughed cruelly, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking dense.”

Your face pinched as you glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“I don’t want you as my maid, Y/N,” Peter said, exhaling the smoke before inhaling it through his nose and letting it back out again. “I want you in a way that no boss should want their employee.”

For fucks sake, could he be any hotter?

“Put it out.”

“Or what?”

“Put it out,” you repeat, setting down your pen and notebook and slipping your phone from your back pocket, already unbuttoning your shirt. “And I’ll get in with you.”

Peter pauses, shaking his head. “No… no, you can’t, not if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you respond, already unbuttoning your shirt. “Put it out.”

His eyes darkened as they scanned your form, watching as you finished unbuttoning your shirt and slipped it off as he pressed the end of the cigar into the concrete, staring at your body that started to show more and more skin. You were more beautiful than he could ever imagine, your panties a see through with chiffon and soft pieces of fabric in shapes of butterflies and flowers, a soft coral color that didn’t match your black lace push up bra.

He swallowed as you slowly stepped into the hot tub, the jets getting water higher on your body as you slowly walked in front of him, the bottom of the pool slightly rough until his hands slipped into the water. “Can I… can I touch you?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, tilting your head back as his hands held your waist, pulling you between his legs. You gasped when you felt the prominent bulge between his legs, tilting your head back as he ducked his face into your neck. His breath was hot, hands palming at your hips as you exhaled heavily, holding his face and pulling him closer. “I never said you could kiss me, Peter.”

He cursed softly as you pulled away, looking down at the water and swallowing when you saw no fabric covering his thighs, his whole body completely nude as his hands trail over your waist. “I have a new role for you, darling. If you’re up to it.”

Your new role came with a new outfit and a new contract, extra pay of course. In a way, your relationship with Peter was official, and the money you made was just something you could have for yourself. Peter would have gladly given you more if you wanted it.

Besides, being a topless maid for your boyfriend wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“You missed a spot, baby,” Peter whispered, coming behind you and rubbing your hips firmly as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. “A big one.”

“I-I was getting to it, Peter,” he whispered, cursing as his hands pushed between your thighs and teasing your wet cunt with his fingers. “P-Peter, I’m not done-”

“You can finish it later, darling,” his fingers easily slid into you from last night's endeavors, his tongue sliding down the side of your neck as he pushed you forward to press your chest against the marble countertop. “I’ll fuck you so good, baby, so good. After this, I’ll hire another maid to takeover your position and you’ll be coming with me on every fucking business trip and I’ll fuck you every damn day.”

“F-Fuck, Peter!” You gasped as he slid inside of you easily, holding your hips as he groaned loudly. This wasn’t the first time you both had fucked today, but out in the open, the cold bite of the kitchen air making you groan loudly. “F-Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!”

Maybe this was where his spider senses came in. He knew whatever you were feeling, your stomach twisting as you neared probably your fourth orgasm of the day, all of them thankfully spread out and not causing overstimulation to settle into your body. You could feel the tightness, though, the tightness in your stomach and your nails scratching against the counter.

You were thankful you had just cleaned them, thankful for the fact that the odd feeling didn’t spark coming up your fingers. Even then though, your body was weak, immediately giving out under the force of his thrusts as you groaned against the counter, the smell of lemons making your mouth water. It made you thankful that you used all natural cleaners and no chemicals.

His hand pushed between your cunt and the edge of the counter, his fingers rubbing firmly against your clit as you rutted your hips into his touch. You gasped against the cold marble as his strong fingers rolled your hips into his touch, eyes rolling back.

You could barely think, mind hazy as he roughly thrusted against your ass, his mouth hot as he kissed against your back, the coldness of the marble firmly pressed against your nipples making them harden as he pushed another hand into your dress. “Come on baby, come on. You’re going to cum already? You’re drooling all over the fucking counter, fucking hell darling… getting my counter all dirty.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You gasped, screaming out as his fingers squeeze your clit, tipping you over the edge perfectly as you came.

You gasped as he twisted you around, the pool of your drool got into your hair, his hands quickly ripping open your uniform as you panted. “You think I’m done? I want to keep going baby, please, please.”

You nodded, panting. “Y-You can… you can, please.”

Peter smiled. “I’m not going to let you regret that, baby. Ever.”

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 2 months ago

Text

Shoto's First Kiss Timeline? Idk let's plot it out together

Gif Caption: Me and Shoto sitting together on the train, vibing. 💕

Hi All!!

If you're a fan of the Shoto's First Kiss series, Chapter 5 dropped at like 3:30 am EST this morning because I am an absolute HEATHEN and decided to have a late night/early morning editing session for 3 hours before posting. This was fun because I decided to add the whole Lisa Frank phone background scene for kicks and add a little more build up to the smut scene (I love a slowish burn...what can I say!?).

@brie-is-cheesy had some great questions in the comments of Chapter 5, I'm going to post it below and answer the best I can! I don't have a full answer to everything and I'm taking some ✨creative liberties ✨ here and there but lets see if I can clear some things up for my lovely readers!

Hiiiii, totally loved it; I was wondering when this is set? Like the timeline, I just got confused I'll leave the list of confusing things about the timeline,, I wrote about how much I love this in my reblog cuz this is awesome!! -since bnha is set in the mid to late 2100s I was wondering if the older songs they're listening to will include songs that are relatively new for us as of now? -when does this occur? Like you mentioned they're in their first year, and its after they've moved into the dorms but it's nearing the summer of next year, so is it after the war arc, or after the events of bnha entirely? Just wanted to ask! Thank you for the update!!<3 - brie-is-cheesy

Okay these are FAB questions and honestly I can't give you a straight answer to all of them!

Here's the background: So this story started out as a one shot - this past year, Shoto hasn't been one of my main MHA favorites. When I started the Red Riot Unbreakable Heart blog, my goal was to focus on what I've been calling "My Big Three." This includes Kirishima (lol thus my username), Hakws, and Hitoshi Shinsou (I love me an emo man). I was sprinkling in smutty one shots here and there involving other characters (ex. BakuDeku Smut: Hooking Up At A Pro Hero Gala and Beneath the Bookshelves | BakuDeku ). Shoto was one of those random one offs that I was like, huh why not!? But then I published Shoto's First Kiss (Part One) this one shot about Reader x Shoto totally took off in a way I wasn't expecting. Shoto resonates a lot with you all and the more I started writing for him, the more I grew to love him. He's so complex and in need of love and care. He has so much capacity for love!! I wanted to explore that more and figure out how he would act in his first encounters with intimacy and relationships. So I kept posting chapters, and started plotting out this wild story!

Timeline: When I started writing the one shot, I wanted the story to ambiguously take place in the 2nd or 3rd year when the characters were a little older. I was kind of working it in an AU where the war had vaguely happened and was over but everyone is okay and no one was injured/died/had their quirk impacted by AFO. In the context of Shoto's First Kiss chapter one - the war doesn't matter (at least if you re-read it I hope you don't find any plot holes mentioning the war!?). Also I have tried to say "Class A" instead of "Class 1A" because as I wrote more chapters, I still hadn't figured out what year we are in here.

Now that we're world building and have a more fleshed out story, here's what I'm thinking. Bare with me, we are going to need to suspend some disbelief here and I might need to go back and make some tweaks to previous chapters to keep everything in line with this line of thinking. But let's say this:

Timeline: The timeline takes place in the character's 1st year. I just combed through this timeline of MHA that someone put together on Reddit. I'm thinking this likely takes place at the end of Term 1. Final exams are coming up, and the students have heard a little about the training camp. Most of the MHA events so far are probably cannon in my fic universe, unless otherwise mentioned. The great thing for me is - most of MHA is in the context of Izuku's experiences, so there's a lot of wiggle room in the timeline for what could be happening between Shoto x The Reader. I haven't decided if the current chapters take place before or after Shoto/Izuku/Ida's encounter with Stain, because I can see some interesting plot points coming from that. I'll think about it!! This may change, but for purposes of continuity I think this could work as I move forward with my plotting!

Age: All the characters are at least 16. Let's just roll with that and take some creative liberties here. I'm aging everyone up.

The Dorms: In this fic universe, I pictured the students moving into the dorms at the start of the year. Like the dorms are just part of the normal UA experience - for all intents and purposes it's a boarding school.

The Songs: Okay this is a really interesting idea! I am literally just putting in playlists of music I like right now, I didn't think much about modern music flowing into the story. Lol would Honenuki listen to BRAT!? Maybe. I love him and think of him as a sweet chill cinnamon roll of a dude, though. I think he would be scandalized by Guess Featuring Billie Eilish. Or maybe he'd love it. He'd def love Chappell Roan, though. Dude is a sloot for Red Wine Super Nova and I just know it!

The Vibe: @ all of my beloved readers - I realize that this story means a lot to people, and I love that!! Even though we explore complex and serious subject matter at times, this is still a goofy silly story that I write for fun! Please don't hold me to these ideas that I'm throwing out in a semi-public brainstorm. I am but a simple fanfic writer who churns out most of the Shoto pages at midnight after I work two jobs. Shoto's First Kiss is a project that I write purely for fun and to build community with other adult MHA fans. I'm not like going to publish this as a book or put it on Patr*on behind a paywall or something. So let's keep it light! That being said, I love interacting with everyone so if there are fun questions that you think would be interesting for me to answer in this story, let me know! I'm very open to hearing thoughts and considering new ideas here :)

Okay okay SORRY FOR SO MUCH INFO! Thanks again @brie-is-cheesy for being so thoughtful in your reading and for asking these great questions! This is def going to help me guide the next few chapters of the story as I plot things out and as we get a satisfying next chapter in The Party arc. I'm going to post this reply on my Master List so we can all keep track of it and come back to it easily if needed.

As always, thanks for reading!! Sending good vibes to all ☺️

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

Shoto's First Kiss Series:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

My Master List

Red's Recos: If you're looking for more fun smutty stories from my writing desk, I'll share 3 of my all time favorites from my Master List. These are all fairly long and have a lot of sexual tension/build up with some satisfying smut scenes:

How to Suck Your Best Friend’s D*ck 🍆💋

BakuDeku Smut: Hooking Up At A Pro Hero Gala

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima

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theanxiousghostartist · 2 months ago

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TMAGP 29 Spoilers (Theories and Reactions)

Ok, ok ok ok.. Holy shit I cannot wait for the finale!!

Celia and Sam:

Honestly, I'm glad Celia found Sam. While it would have been interesting to see one of the others find him, I like that Celia did, because we got more insight into her!

1) We know she cares about Sam. While we knew this from other episodes and their relationship, we can confirm that Celia deeply cares for Sam and isn't just manipulating him. The statements that Celia cares for Sam and Celia is manipulating Sam can co-exist.

2) Imo - Celia is the one most likely to survive. She knew the right questions to ask Sam to get to the important details about that Archivist (I'm going to try to call them, "that Archivist" so they won't be confused with TMA!Jarchivist), and why they attacked Sam. She also was reluctant to go to the Hilltop Centre, knowing that that Archivist was planning on heading there from Sam. Furthermore, she was planning on stopping Sam until he basically begged her to go.

3) Celia cares for Alice. While this episode had Sam/Celia interactions and no Alice/Celia interactions, we still saw Celia caring for Alice. Sam didn't want to tell Alice anything about his encounter with that Archivist. Celia was the one to force him to, and even then, Sam still blew her off when the train left the station. Celia understands that Alice cares for Sam and is very protective of him, and she understood that if Sam didn't tell her about that Archivist, it would devastate her, thus she made Sam call Alice.

So that Archivist is after The Magnus Institute and Hilltop Road. Interesting. While I initially thought they were feeding, I don't think that was the case. They wanted as much information as possible on the Institute and Hilltop Road, therefore, they went to the person that let them out. They were after Alice before, and on their way to find her, they found Sam instead. That's why Alice felt like she was being followed before, that Archivist was looking to get information out of the people who let them out. They initially followed Alice and found Sam instead; and they took advantage of that. Now they are on the way to the Hilltop Centre, perhaps they followed Sam there...

Gwen and Lena:

Ok, so Lena is proud of Gwen and Gwen dropped the act of being kinder to her, showing her true emotions. Interesting. I guess because Gwen gave her (and Augustus's/Jonah's (my theory lol)) information to Trevor, she assumes she will get the job anyhow. It makes sense for her characterization so far. I'm starting to wonder if Gwen is going to take a more Jonah-Magnus-approach to the job, if she gets it, and Lena is the one with the Gertrude-Robinson-approach.

Case: This case was very much a Buried case, with Viola even saying that she was afraid of drowning alone. It's interesting that she specified "alone" since Stan was with her. It reminds me of "Alone" in TMA Season 1, the statement of one of the Lukus's fiancée. So perhaps Lonely undertones as well? Maybe the Stranger or Spiral too, with the door/lock themes and the overall theme of unlocking yourself? Still, it's definitely related to the Buried.

Viola and Stanely Locke, I wonder if this is a reference to John Locke of the Enlightenment.

From my memory, I took a lot of history classes: John Locke was a philosopher during the Enlightenment, advocating for so-called "natural rights" - life, liberty, and property - as well as theorizing on the "natural state" of humans, basically, what would we do if we did not have a government. He believed that humans have a "natural state" of kindness and helping each other, and that we exchange some of our rights for a government to organize and protect us, and because of this, if a government became tyrannical, we could take back our rights and rebuild the government. His ideas influenced a lot of people, including those involved in the American, French, and Haitian Revolutions.

There might be a connection there but IDK. I'm in a similar situation with them and their last name to what I have been with Ink5oul and their last name of Wilde (possibly a reference to Oscar Wilde).

This case was so interesting, and I was devastated for Stan.

That old scruffy person who opened the door for the Locke's had to be an avatar. Maybe the case is more Spiral related as they opened the door into an illusion/another realm? Then again, the Buried's coffin worked in the same way...

Maybe they were this universe's Breekan or Hope? Possibly a Lukus? I wonder if they will show up again...

Teddy and Alice:

Teddy has insomnia. I wonder if it is from staying away from the OIAR? (sorta like how Tim got sick when he stayed away from the Archives for so long)

I like Teddy's and Alice's interactions, I hope the two can talk after whatever will happen in the finale!

Teddy needs to talk to Alice about something in regards to his job, something "serious." I wonder if he's been having problems since he left the OIAR? Maybe in a similar way to Sam pre-OIAR? Oooh, or maybe he's Becoming? Maybe he had a run in with an External during his new job and has started Becoming? Or maybe he had started Becoming when he got the OIAR job and Lena, and/or her higher-ups were able to prevent it? Maybe the food helps the OIAR crew build up a resistance to the Fears? Lena has been very insistent on the crew eating the OIAR food, so maybe she did something to it (maybe with alchemy) to help the crew resist the Fears, like how Sam was able to resist that Archivist in the beginning and survived them messing through his memories?

"It's on the train:"

Yay! Go Alice! Protect your friends/potential love interests! (please talk to Teddy afterwords though!)

I like how Alice keeps fighting to save Sam and Celia here.

Wait, so only Alice can see that Archivist? Oh, maybe because they are an avatar and the OIAR crew is being marked/already marked/aligned with the Fears so they can see it? Either way, this is definitely an interesting detail!

Predictions for the Finale:

Ok, predictions time! So, I think Celia is going to die or be at least severely injured. You may be thinking, "But didn't you say earlier that Celia is the most likely to survive, in your opinion?" Yes. Yes, I did. However, I think that she would be the most likely to survive, IF Sam did not involve her in this mission. Now, that is not to say this is Sam's fault at all! (although, if she were to die/get injured, he will probably blame himself) I think that Sam and Celia are going to get chased by that Archivist, and Celia will die so Sam (and possibly Alice) can get away. Before she does, she is going to expose her being from the TMA-verse by asking that Archivist about the stuff she saw. This would leave Georgie and Sam having to take care of Jack for one, and for two, it would leave a good cliffhanger to explore both worlds and possibly figure out more about FR3-D1 and that Archivist.

Someone is going to Become, or at least, start Becoming. I'm not sure who though, my best bet is Alice, probably for the Spiral or Dark. I'm still not quite sure for this one, so I don't have much else to say.

Lena is going to play a key role in the survival of the OIAR crew. Going based off the theory that she is taking a Gertrude role; she is going to be the key to surviving. My theory is that Lena is going to go hunt down that Archivist when she finds out that it was near the OIAR, they are not an external, therefore, her superiors don't know about them, and she has free reign. She is going to find Sam and Celia (and probably Alice), with that Archivist, and either witness Celia die or Sam holding Celia injured or dead. She will be the one to beat/kill that Archivist, probably take the crew to the OIAR or to a "Fear resistant room" and start explaining general things to them (basic, things, not even as much as Gerry told Jon). We will end off with them coming in battered and traumatized and learning why. If this happens, one of two things could happen in S2: 1) Lena's superiors find out about what she is doing. She is killed by them and Gwen, having proved her loyalty by giving Trevor the files, gets her job like she wanted.

2) Lena's superiors find out too late, and they are Protocolled. Lena leads the team in a sort of resistance-style movement against the fears (and possibly Gwen, who may have taken over for her), to destroy the fears and prevent the alchemy project that the Institute was working on.

Also, I think near the end of the episode or near the end of the Hilltop Road shenanigans, we are going to get a glimpse of Annabelle Cane. (I really want to hear her again, guys; I want her to be involved with this grand plan)

I really don't want anyone to die, especially Alice and Lena, since they are my favorites, but I have a feeling Lena is going to die )):

Anyway, I can't wait for the finale! I will most likely have a lot to say about it :D

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littlehollyleaf · 1 year ago

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So are we talking about the Bible quote on the Gabriel!fly matchbox?

It's from Job - a nod to Crowley and Aziraphale's adventures with him no doubt

Specifically Job 41:19 "out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out"

So. Idk if this was once a common verse on matchboxes. I know there was a famous brand called LUCIFERS, as a play on the concept of 'light bringer' - cos matches bring light, yeah? Those had bible verses on I believe, but idk if it was this one. Even if not the same though, this Job verse does a similar thing to the Lucifer match brand - referencing sparks of fire cos that's what matches create (we're gonna circle back to this fyi, but there's other stuff first, hold on).

Now, obviously the box was used to contain the essence/identity of GABRIEL.

But it also acts as something of a visual representation of the very CONCEPT of an angel's essence/identity being something that can be removed and stored elsewhere. AND of the idea that the outside appearance of something (or someone) doesn't necessarily give an accurate/truthful indicator of what is inside - there are no matches in this matchbox, for instance.

The quote on the box also doesn't describe Gabriel. But that doesn't matter because, actually, Gabriel is never in the box is he? He takes the fly out before transferring his essence into it.

So. We have an empty box, representing the idea of angel essence/identity as removable from its... casing/packaging.

And this empty box describes something (someone?) from whom sparks of fire leap from.

If you look up the whole of Job 41, it turns out it's god describing what's referred to as a LEVIATHAN to Job.

Apparently there's speculation this refers to a crocodile. But a quick Google tells me various Bible annotations describe the creature as a GIANT SERPENT.

...a giant serpent

from whom fire leaps

and whose 'eyes are like the eyelids of the morning'

Hmm.

But the box is empty - the essence/identity/truth of this creature/being/person the outside is describing is not where the packaging suggests it should be.

...perhaps because, as with Gabriel, the essence/identity/truth of said creature has also been removed and stored somewhere else?

OR is it less literal than that? More of a metaphorical suggestion that the creature/angel/being Crowley is labelled as has never truly been HIM? The box is empty because who Crowley is does not fit in a box - he has, in fact, spent much of his existence trying to ESCAPE being put in a box, being labelled, ESPECIALLY by god/Heaven.

So, this little box has started to represent quite a lot now I think. The idea of angel essence/identity, but also maybe just identity in general? The idea of someone's identity not always matching their physical appearance. The idea of someone's identity being defined/limited by the descriptions/opinions/words of others. The idea of wanting and trying to escape the confines of an inaccurate and forced identity (give me coffee liberty or give me death).

Then, if that wasn't enough, on top of that we have that little added extra of matchboxes with bible verses infamously being known as Lucifers... (said I'd circle back!). Not as important as the rest I feel. BUT - if anyone wanted a little extra fuel for the 'Crowley as Lucifer' theory, this could fit... in a deeply symbolic, close reading, metafictional way?

In any case, what I'm getting at here is this box as reflecting the forced identities that Heaven/God persistently try to trap angels (and anyone really) into. And how it is possible to remove yourself from said box.

...am I taking this too far? Haven't tried any full on media analysis in such a long time...

This is the whole of Job 41 for reference (think there may be more in it relating to Crowley, and perhaps Aziraphale and their relationship too, plus GO!Heaven, that I'm overlooking):

Job.41

[1] Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

[2] Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

[3] Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

[4] Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

[5] Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

[6] Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

[7] Canst thou fill his skin with barbed iron? or his head with fish spears?

[8] Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

[9] Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

[10] None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

[11] Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

[12] I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

[13] Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his double bridle?

[14] Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

[15] His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

[16] One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

[17] They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

[18] By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

[19] Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

[20] Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

[21] His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

[22] In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

[23] The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

[24] His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

[25] When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

[26] The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

[27] He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

[28] The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

[29] Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

[30] Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

[31] He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

[32] He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

[33] Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

[34] He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

#i like to over analyse #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens cinematic storytelling #character study: crowley #heaven is a dystopia #you need to stop playing

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pollenallergie · 2 years ago

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Hello!! Can I request for a Billy Knight smut please? One where he has struggled to show affection and now that he's getting better he wants to touch you all the time. You'd let him, and one day when you're out of the shower and watching TV he randomly says that he wants to explore every part of you and you happily oblige because you love him. Please and thank you

of course!! thank you so much for this request!! sorry it's taken me so long to reply to it, but, well... i may have gone a lil overboard with my response. oopsies. also, i took quite a few creative liberties with this one, but i hope you still like it!!! <3

thank you so, so much to @hahahafucku and @punk-in-docs for beta-reading this!!! you're the best!!! <3

CW: pretty much just fluffy smut and some swearing, female ejaculation (squirting), billy gives the reader a massage (idk if anyone would find that triggering, but i'll include it just in case), the reader's gender is not specified but they do have stereotypically-female anatomy (boobs and a vagina…. dw i don’t call them that in the fic).

Word Count: about 8.8k

18+ only!!

side note: this is my first time writing smut in a longggg time, so pls be gentle lol

The evening starts like any other. You’re huddled up on the sofa, still in your work clothes, watching a nature documentary, images of seal pups adorably paddling about in the arctic waters flashing on the telly. At the same time, your boyfriend, Billy, is in the other room, changing into comfy clothes, having just gotten out of the shower mere moments ago. You figure you should probably have a shower as well now that he’s done, but you find it hard to leave your cosy spot on the sofa. It’s one of those nights where departing from the warm, cushiony furniture seems to be the most challenging feat known to man.

Just as you’ve begun to summon the motivation to leave your comfy seat and fascinating documentary behind, your partner suddenly emerges from your shared bedroom wearing his favourite jumper and a pair of joggers. Billy wastes no time joining you on the sofa, immediately plopping down next to you and snuggling close. He curls his limbs round you like a vine as he clings to you and nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The feeling of his cold, wettish hair against your otherwise warm skin sends a shiver up your spine. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when he’s so openly showering you with affection, something he struggled to do early on in your relationship.

“Hey, Kill Bill,” you say, fondly giggling at his antics. Billy snorts at the eccentric moniker.

“Hi, lovey,” he greets you in return.

“You alright?” You ask, amusement evident in your tone, as he clings onto you tightly and nuzzles into you, clearly needing to be impossibly closer to you.

“Missed you today,” he whines petulantly, pouting as if you haven’t been home for hours now. He even goes so far as to briefly remove his face from its hiding spot to flash you an adorable pout.

“I missed you too, handsome,” You admit, your tone tinted with amusement as you rake a hand through his soft, damp hair. The feeling of your fingers toying with his strands causes him to purr as he leans down to rest his head on your chest.

“How was work?” Billy asks as he idly toys with the buttons on your blouse, always needing something to do with his hands.

You heave out a massive, dramatic sigh, your chest deflating with the force of it, as you fix him with a pout of your own and pitifully reply, “Was absolutely exhausting, bub.”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you after such a long day, but you think you can spot a little hopeful gleam in his gaze.

“Yeah, my neck and shoulders are killing me from being hunched over at my desk all day,” you complain, shamelessly fishing for your boyfriend’s sympathetic affection.

He offers a mere hum of acknowledgment as he nudges the collar of your blouse to the side so that he can place a warm, chaste kiss on the spot where your neck slopes down into your shoulder. “Think I know what could help with that,” Billy confesses softly, his tone hushed but, surprisingly, not the least bit bashful.

“Yeah?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat as he trails kisses up towards your jaw, each kiss sloppier than the last. “What might that be?”

“Y’could let me touch you,” he huskily replies whilst continuing to smatter kisses across your flesh, “let me take care of you,” he adds finally, whispering the words into your ear before nuzzling his face back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

As incredibly enticing as that sounds, you’re a bit insecure about letting him pamper you in this state; still slightly sweaty from your walk home and completely knackered from a long day at work. You sigh and reluctantly tell him, “I can’t, babe, not right now. I’ve gotta shower.”

Billy, however, seems entirely undeterred, continuing to lavish your neck with passionate kisses as he hoarsely replies, “Y’smell alright to me,” he then loudly, and a bit dramatically, sniffs you, as if proving his point, which causes you to let out an amused huff.

Billy then pulls away to face you, fixing you with the softest, sweetest smile and the most adoring gaze you’ve ever seen. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose and murmurs, “I’ll help you shower when we’re done. Please, let me make you feel good, baby. Want to touch every part of my pretty petal.”

The way he says that, with more than a hint of yearning, makes it seem like he intends to explore you, and the way his hands begin to roam your body seems to confirm your assumption. And, just like that, he’s won you over completely. You find yourself easily, willingly giving into your mutual desires once again. Though, you never really stood much of a chance at actually refusing him; you love and trust him too much to do anything but spoil him, especially since he has a habit of spoiling you too.

You rake your hands through his damp hair again, gently scratching his scalp in a way that never fails to make him melt, inadvertently encouraging his amorous, wandering touches whilst you blissfully sigh, “Promise?”

Billy pulls away from your neck and meets your gaze, smiling softly, and nods his head in confirmation. He then stands abruptly, catching you off guard, before holding his hands out and smiling warmly at you, “C’mon, petal. Let me take care of you.”

You look up at him with a playful pout and sigh, “I have to get up?”

He nods, his soft smile widening into an amused grin, before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper into your ear, “I’ll make it worth your while.” You feel a shiver up your spine at that honest promise and, not trusting your own voice, you opt for simply reaching out to gently grasp his outstretched hands with your own in response.

Mere moments later, you find yourself sprawled out on your bed, lying on your back, completely naked, with your head resting in your boyfriend’s lap. Whether it was out of solidarity or simply to tease you, Billy has stripped off his clothes as well, enabling you to feel his stiffening cock pressing against the back of your head. Though, he makes no move to relieve himself, simply content with massaging your scalp as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Close your eyes, darling,” he requests softly, as he moves his hands down to gently rub your temples, relieving the dull ache that’s formed there as a result of you unintentionally clenching your jaw throughout the workday. You sigh blissfully as you oblige, your eyes effortlessly fluttering shut. You feel your weight sink further into the plush mattress as Billy begins to massage your sore masseter muscles, relaxing you even further.

“Feels good, love?” He asks, his tone soft and sweet. You opt for simply nodding wordlessly, too blissed out to respond verbally, making him chuckle breathily.

Once your overworked cheek muscles have gone pliant and relaxed, Billy reaches for the massage oil, applying some to his hands. The massage oil took you by surprise when he first pulled it out of the top drawer in his nightstand, as you were previously unaware that he’d purchased it. The unbroken seal told you it was likely a recent purchase. The emboldened text reading ‘100% edible’ on the label revealed that his thoughts might not have been all that innocent when he bought it. Upon seeing the suggestive text, your mind began to conjure up lewd images of him licking the thin oil off various parts of your body, sending a rush of slick desire between your folds. That wetness now smears along the inside of your thighs as you clench them together, desperate for some relief.

The massage oil smells vaguely earthy in a way that only enhances your relaxation as he moves his hands down to gently work the muscles in your neck and shoulders, eliciting another sigh from you, this one bordering on a moan and making his cock twitch beneath you. It’s oddly comforting to know that your suffering is mutual, that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him.

Although, he seems relatively content to prolong your shared suffering as he moves on from your loosened neck and shoulder muscles, reaching down to gently grasp your dominant hand in both of his as he begins massaging the strained muscles there. You sigh in a way that betrays your mounting frustration, causing him to emit another breathy chuckle.

“Be patient, petal,” he chides you gently, his tone a perfect mixture of amusement and fondness.

“You said you wanted to touch me,” you huff.

“I am touching you,” he softly replies whilst releasing one hand to massage the other. His response has you opening your eyes briefly to fix him with a half-hearted glare.

“Let me take my time with you, please,” he pleads, as if he’s not the one in control here.

“Alright,” you readily concede as he releases your other hand.

Billy then begins to massage your arms, with his nimble hands working the muscles in each of them, starting at your wrists and gradually working up to your shoulders. You sigh contentedly as he effortlessly moves his oil-slick hands down to your chest; however, your tone soon gains a slightly exasperated edge when he pauses to sweetly ask, “May I touch you here, love?”

You usually appreciate that Billy always takes the time to ask you for your permission, that he constantly checks in with you to make sure you’re alright. However, right now, your impatient and incessant yearning makes it hard not to get annoyed with his constant pausing.

“Billy, please,” you whine desperately, “you can touch me anywhere, everywhere; just please touch me.”

Billy gulps around the lump forming in his throat due to your beautiful begging and swiftly succumbs to your pleading, gently grasping and kneading your breasts, finally offering you some relief. You moan softly when he briefly pauses his ministrations to toy with the stiff peaks of your nipples. As if they have a mind of their own, your thighs relax and fall apart as your hips buck upwards, desperately seeking friction. The cool air hitting your slick-covered folds makes you shiver. The subtle movement only makes the sight before Billy more enticing for him. He can’t help but let out a guttural groan at the sight of you all spread out and desperate for him, your hips bucking up needily, exposing more of yourself to him. Your eyes flutter open once more at the sweet sound, and you look up to find him staring at your sex, transfixed by the way your wetness glimmers in the dim light of the lamps on your nightstands.

“Billy,” you call out softly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown out by lust, almost entirely overtaking his rich, chocolate-coloured irises. “Kiss me,” you plead, and, with urgency, he shifts slightly to a more comfortable position before leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss starts simple and sweet but soon devolves into something much more sloppy and desperate, with you both moaning into it softly. Despite getting readily swept up in the passion of the kiss, Billy doesn’t let it distract from his ultimate goal of making you feel good, continuing to knead the pliant fat of your tits all the while.

“Please,” you whisper in between kisses.

Although it’s only a single word, Billy knows precisely what you’re asking for and finds himself unable to deny you any further, not that he was ever really trying to in the first place. His hands slowly slip down your abdomen toward where you need his touch most. You shiver with delight as he rubs his hands down the length of your pussy before slowly dragging them back up, kneading the puffy lips that surround your folds and gently pushing them together, putting subtle, indirect pressure on your clit as he glides his hands upwards to your mound whilst maintaining his kneading strokes.

The whine you let out in response is purely sinful, and the sound of it has him yearning to completely give in to you. Billy can only content himself to massage your sex for so long before he becomes powerless to stop himself from giving you what you desire most. You both blissfully sigh as he runs the tips of his right hand’s two middle fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness there. Billy then spreads your slick around your clit as he uses those same fingertips to rub tight circles on your tumescent bud, finally providing you with the stimulation you’ve been craving ever since he began trailing kisses on your neck whilst the two of you were cuddled up on the sofa. The swirling pressure on your clit has your hips jerking as you briefly break the kiss to let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, Billy,” you whimper needily as you roll your hips, grinding up into his gentle but firm touch.

“You’re so good to me, love,” he whines breathlessly. The statement itself is sort of paradoxical, given that he’s the one pleasuring you; however, in your current blissed-out state, you fail to note the irony.

As you roll and swivel your hips slowly, increasing the pressure on your clit, your pleasure suddenly increases tenfold when Billy begins using his free hand to lavish your tits with attention, alternating between kneading the fat and toying with the nipples of each one.

“Love you, Billy,” you moan softly as you shift your gaze to look up at him in awe, finding him already gazing down at you with a look of profound adoration, the perfect mixture of reverence and affection. In Billy’s eyes, you are — and always have been — as close to a deity as a person can get, your grace rivaling that of even the most revered saints, prophets, and shamans, the compassion you show him outweighing that of anyone he’s ever known, even on your worst days. However, at this moment, with the way you’re calling out to him and baring yourself so vulnerably, your divinity becomes even more evident than before. And, if the sparkle in your eyes is any indication, Billy suspects that his adoration is amply reciprocated; the mere idea of that has a rosy blush spreading across the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he softly replies whilst smoothing the hand that was previously teasing your breasts — his left hand — back down your torso, using the pads of his fingers to tease your folds once his hand reaches its desired destination. Meanwhile, the two middle fingers of his right hand pick up their pace, their pads swirling round your clit more swiftly than before. However, the pressure they’re applying to the engorged bud never wanes.

Your moans grow louder and higher in pitch, conveying your neediness. Billy knows you need more, and he’s more than happy to give it to you. He teases your entrance with the tips of his left hand’s fingers before easing the middle one inside, causing you to mewl wantonly as your hips lift off the bed, forcing his thick finger deeper inside your wet heat. You reach up and grip his thighs, sure to leave behind the indents of your nails as you desperately cling to him, though Billy doesn’t really mind. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his pale skin provides him with a much stronger sensation than the pressure of your head still resting gently on his stiffening cock, allowing him to focus on that more intense sensation rather than the heavenly one in his lap. Billy then eases his ring finger in as well, curling both fingers just slightly so he can reach that magical place inside you — that special spot that never fails to make you cry out in pleasure — whilst he begins to thrust his fingers. At first, Billy sets a slow pace, wanting to ease you into your release, but his carnal desire to see you completely unravel soon takes over, leading him to work up to a pace that matches how he rubs your clit; fast and hard.

Feeling the tips of his fingers stimulating your two most sensitive points, the internal and the external, has the coil in the pit of your belly wound tight, nearly ready to snap, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. You opt to show your appreciation by turning your head to the side to press warm, wet kisses to the inside of one of Billy’s thighs, making his breath hitch in turn.

“Love you so much, Billy. ‘M so close,” you babble mindlessly in between kisses.

“I know, baby. Can feel you squeezing me,” he moans softly, the sound bordering on a whine, as he leans forward to press sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks, “doing so good, love. Just need you to let go, baby. Please? Need you to cum f’me, yeah?”

You can only manage to nod in response, no longer able to get the words out as your pleasure mounts to impossible heights. Your whole body thrums with pleasure, muscles spasming and legs shaking as your climax nears. The sounds you’re making are truly divine, so melodic and alluring that they have poor Billy nearing his own release. He’s moments away from cumming in your pretty hair just from the sounds you’re making and the gentle pressure of your head resting on his crotch. Wanting to make you cum before he does, he begins to fuck his fingers into you with increased fervour, all whilst trying desperately to refrain from grinding his stubborn, needy cock against the back of your head.

“Let go, petal. Cum for me,” Billy says, attempting to encourage you, though his voice can barely be heard over your loud, lewd moaning. His encouragement seems to work, nevertheless, as your back arches off the bed and the coil in your belly finally succumbs to the pressure and snaps, a rush of slick oozing out of your weeping hole when you cum. Billy works you through your orgasm deftly, prolonging your pleasure until you finally go limp, whimpering from overstimulation.

As you descend from what seem to be clouds, from how high you felt, Billy continues to pamper and take care of you. He eases out from under you, gently placing a pillow under your head to compensate for the absence of his lap before moving down to slot himself between your legs. Billy applies some more massage oil to his hands before carefully grabbing one of your legs — still shaking and twitching from your forceful release — and lifting it to rest on his shoulder. He then begins to skillfully massage the overworked muscles of your calf, still sore from your walk home hours ago. The sensation of him gently kneading the knots out of your muscles has you moaning softly, and Billy melts at the sound. He deftly eases his slick hands up to your thigh, massaging the muscles there until they go lax under his touch, then moving down to rub the achy sole of your foot. The moan you let out at the feeling of his thumbs gently but firmly digging into the arch of your foot is nothing short of sinful. It has Billy’s stubborn cock throbbing, yearning for friction, for release. However, he refuses to succumb to temptation, too determined to see this through, to completely and properly care for his overworked, fatigued darling. If you were in your right mind, you might admire Billy’s surprisingly strong willpower, but you’re too far gone to notice anything other than the feeling of his hands on your skin and the loving look in his eyes.

Gently, Billy returns your leg to its resting position, swapping it out for the other one so he can also knead the strained muscles there. Once again, he begins at your calf, easing the aches, before moving on to your quivering thigh muscles. Finally, he massages the sole of your other foot, firmly working out the knots there. Once your muscles have relaxed completely, he presses a chaste, warm kiss to both the arch of your foot and the spot underneath your ankle bone before gently setting your leg back down onto the mattress.

“You alright, love?” He asks softly as he leans forward to smatter kisses across your chest, occasionally pausing to lap at your oil-slicked breasts.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Yeah, ’m alright,” you reassure him with a blissful sigh whilst you reach down to toy with his slightly damp locks.

“Was that good?” He questions somewhat bashfully.

You hum your confirmation before responding verbally, “Was wonderful. You did so well, angel, made me feel so good.”

“Think you can roll over for me so I can get your back?” Billy inquires whilst pausing his ministrations to look up at you adoringly.

“Billy, you don’t have to,” you trail off, feeling slightly guilty about how much he’s doting on you.

“I know,” he replies simply as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Just want to.”

“You’re far too good to me, baby,” you sigh dreamily.

“Nah, ’m not. You deserve the whole world, dove. ‘M just giving you what I can,” he says sweetly whilst flashing you a kind smile that spreads a delightful warmth throughout your chest.

“Now quit stalling and roll over,” he says teasingly as he peers down at you with a faux annoyed glare.

You huff, feigning exasperation. As you heed his request, the swell of your bum inadvertently brushes against Billy’s stiff cock, causing him to reflexively buck his hips, chasing the heavenly friction. He groans out hoarsely as he wills his hips to still.

“That’s not fair,” he grumbles out gruffly as he shifts to straddle your hips, giving him ample access to the expanse of your back. You giggle at his pouty remark as you settle into your new position, your arms interlocked atop your pillow as you rest your head on them. Once you both have fully settled, Billy applies just a bit more massage oil to ensure his hands will easily glide along your skin. Then, he gets to work on massaging the sore muscles of your back. He starts with your neck and shoulders, alternating between kneading out the knots with the pads of his thumbs and his knuckles, depending on their severity. Billy then glides his hands down to your upper back, just past your shoulders, and begins to work out the kinks in the muscles there. If it weren’t for the feeling of his stubborn hard-on resting warmly on your bum and the way he subtly ruts into you occasionally, the experience would likely be purely wholesome. However, even with his attentive doting, his neediness bleeds through as much as your own, once again tainting the otherwise innocent endeavour with a hint of sensuality.

By the time he reaches the lowest point of your back, you’ve both begun to emit soft moans and blissful sighs, the sweet, melodic sounds serving as relaxing background music. Once he’s finally finished kneading your back muscles into submission, you’re confident that Billy will finally give in to temptation and fuck you. When he nudges your legs apart and shifts downward to slot between them, you’re sure your partner is right where you want him, unable to resist you any longer. However, Billy surprises you when, rather than lining his cock up with your entrance, he simply lays down between your legs, propping himself up on his elbows as he begins to massage the backs of your thighs. You look back at him over your shoulder quizzically, making him giggle and smile impishly.

“Told you I wanted to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning forward to trail kisses along the inside of your left thigh. Meanwhile, he glides his hands up to the plump fat of your arse. He starts kneading the flesh there, alternating between coasting his hands up, in an outward motion — spreading your round cheeks and exposing the most intimate parts of you to himself — and rubbing in a downwards motion, inadvertently pushing the globes of your arse back together as he squeezes the plush fat and sore muscles there. Billy would be entirely content to just lay there, watching in awe as the smooth skin of your rear, now shiny from the oil on his hands, submits to his firm touch. He’s always found it hard to pick his favourite part of you, given how wonderful every single part of you is. Still, if he was forced to choose, he’s sure his first instinct would be to choose your bum simply because of how voluptuous and lovely it is. It’s certainly not the plumpest he’s ever seen; the man did spend years looking at porn daily just to have something to do. Still, it’s his favourite, not just because it’s yours, though that certainly does sweeten the deal. It’s his favourite because of how beautiful it is, with its various dimples and stretch marks. He especially loves the lone freckle that resides on one of the plump globes, constantly calling out to him to place a kiss atop it. Once again, he finds himself powerless to refuse its call, leaning over with pursed lips to cover it in a warm smooch, making you giggle. Not to mention, the first time he had the pleasure of fucking you, he’d had to take you from behind due to the inconvenient location; a small guest bathroom in a mutual friend’s modest London flat. As a result, your arse has gained this sort of sentimental value in his eyes because whenever he sees it, it reminds him of the first time you’d met, the first time you’d had sex together, and, subsequently, the first time in all the twenty-six years of his life that his cock had felt the warm embrace of something other than his own hand.

You’re well aware of his quirky fondness for your behind. Honestly, it has you worried that perhaps he might neglect to give either of you any lasting relief tonight, instead opting to lavish your bum with an inordinate amount of attention. It sounds silly, sure, but you wouldn’t put it past him to do precisely that. Of course, he wouldn’t do it out of malicious intent; instead, Billy would simply get so caught up with the absolute treasure that is your bum that he’d completely forget anything and everything else he was doing.

Fortunately for you, however, Billy notices your anguish, fully aware of how your hips have begun to rut into the mattress, seeking relief in the form of friction, and decides to end your torment. So, he leans forward to lick a long strip across your slit, starting at your mound and ending at the tiny expanse of skin that separates your two holes, parting your folds with his tongue as he does so. The caress of his wet muscle has you reeling whilst you grip the pillow beneath you tightly and moan a wordless plea, begging for more. Ever the people pleaser, Billy happily obliges as he uses his hands to spread the globes of your arse apart, indirectly pulling your folds apart as well, diving in to lap eagerly at your sopping wet cunt. He starts off slow, lapping up your wetness gingerly, moaning as the heady flavour he loves so much dances across his taste buds.

“Taste so good, love,” he moans wantonly, the sound muffled by your flesh, “so warm and wet and sweet. Pussy’s so sweet f’me, baby.”

Billy’s babbling; he knows he is. Still, he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when your scent and taste overwhelm his senses, making him dizzy with lust. Yearning for more of your flavour, he eases his tongue inside your entrance, thrusting it in deeply as he curls it to lap at your walls, his wet muscle fighting against the strength of your clenching hole. He lets out the most sinfully saccharine moan you’ve ever heard whilst he devours you.

“’S good, baby? Am I making you feel good?” Billy asks; he’s yearning for your approval, for your praise.

“God- fuck- Billy, you’re so good. Making me feel so good,” you mewl as you ride his tongue, your hips bucking of their own accord. Your salacious praise has him whimpering into your snatch; the knowledge that he is the one making you feel like this, that he’s the one pleasing you, causes a prideful heat to bloom in his chest, rise through his throat, and spread all across his head, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears in a rosy pink colour.

He removes his tongue, easing it out of your hole and swiftly replacing it with one of his thick fingers before you can even begin to complain about your newfound emptiness. With his tongue now freed, he murmurs, “Want you to cum again, love. Need to make you cum like this before I fuck you,” before latching onto your clit and fervently suckling at the engorged nub, bringing you more pleasure than any one of those fancy, rose-shaped clitoral stimulators ever could. Billy’s bold words have you mewling and whining pathetically, but, much like him, you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed.

He adds another thick finger to your greedy hole, curling them both just slightly, just as you taught him to, and thrusting them deep. Unbeknownst to you, Billy’s become determined to make you unravel in a rare, special way; he wants you to soak him. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about your boyfriend over these past several months, it’s that he can be surprisingly tenacious when given the proper motivation. It just so happens that your ability to squirt, when given ample stimulation, is his new favourite motivator.

With his free hand, he grasps your hip, encouraging you to continue rutting against his face. “That’s it, petal, there you go,” he praises you between the flicks and strokes of his tongue on your clit, “grind on my face ’til you cum.”

His newfound confidence, along with the combined sensations of him lapping at your clit and fingering your cunt, has the coil in your belly again winding tight. Though, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t quite describe with words. Simply put, it feels more, more intense, more captivating, and undoubtedly more significant. You don’t often feel this all-consuming sensation, so it doesn’t take long to identify what it alludes to. Once you realise what’s happening, your eyes widen in shock, and your jaw drops to let out a moan so loud and lascivious that it nearly makes Billy cum all on its own. Luckily, he manages to stave off his premature release by rising to his knees, sitting on his haunches with his face still buried in your cunt as he lifts his hips off the mattress, robbing his needy cock of any friction.

“Billy, fuck, fuck,” you gasp and pant breathlessly whilst your legs shake, the meat of your thighs jiggling with the motion, providing Billy with a stunning view in his peripherals.

“Christ, Billy, please,” you whine as you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in a lustful gaze. “Can’t- gonna make a mess,” you whimper pathetically.

He groans lowly at your words and the implication behind them. You meant them more as a warning, urging your lover to ease up before you soil the sheets with your release. However, Billy takes them as more of a promise, an incentive to keep going.

“Make a mess of me, petal. Need you to soak me,” he encourages you, though his lilting tone makes it sound more like begging. Once again, you find yourself compelled to give in to Billy. How could you possibly deny the man you love something he desires so ardently?

You moan wantonly whilst clutching your pillow so tightly that the skin of your knuckles goes three shades lighter than usual. “So close, baby,” you promise him, “gonna cum for you. Just need more.”

You don’t specify what you need more of, yet Billy gets the point anyways. He latches onto your clit once more, swirling his tongue round it in tight circles as he sucks on it. Occasionally, his teeth scrape against your nub so gently that it only heightens your pleasure. However, the actual source of your unraveling comes in the form of him finally giving in to his innermost desires and gently nipping at your sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure, with a deliciously minimal hint of pain, coursing through you.

The profound sensation has a rush of fluid squirting out of your cunt, soaking the sheets beneath you as you practically scream out of pleasure. Meanwhile, Billy watches in awe whilst he works you through your powerful release. This is only the second time he’s made you squirt in the entire history of your relationship. The sight of it has a mixture of pride and wonderment swelling in his chest, especially since he didn’t need the aid of a toy to make it happen this time. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop ravishing your spasming sex, until you finally reach down and gently push him away, the constant stimulation becoming too much for you to bear.

You both pant feverishly, finally able to catch your breath in the stillness afforded by your brief refractory period. Billy massages the backs of your thighs, easing the tension there as he sits back on his haunches and looks down in awe at the mess he’s made of you and, consequently, of your bed.

“I love you,” He murmurs whilst leaning forward to trail warm kisses up your back, following the barely pronounced ridges of your spine.

“Love you too, Billygoat,” you slur out dopily, drunk on the pleasure he’s given you. Billy giggles, truly giggles, both at your silly nickname for him and at the blissed-out tone in which you utter it.

“D’you want to be done for the night? Or d’you think you can handle some more?” He asks you, sweetly checking in with you like he always does.

You look at him like he’s grown a second head and reply, “Are you joking? ‘Course, I want more.” Your bewildered tone has him giggling all over again. You can’t help but marvel at the way the slight pudge of his tummy adorably quivers as he laughs. There was a time when that little bit of chub didn’t exist, back when he wasn’t eating well, back when you’d first met him, and though you’d loved him all the same without it, you can’t help but prefer this new, fuller form of his. He looks healthy like this — well fed and cared for — and, in the most perverted-yet-still-somewhat-wholesome way possible, it drives you mad.

“Billy,” you softly call out to him, causing his giggles to wane.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Wanna try something I read about,” you confess somewhat shyly.

He leans over to kiss your cheek before nuzzling into the space between your shoulder blades. “What’s that, lovey?” He murmurs.

“Put a pillow under my pelvis? Please?” You ask in an adorably polite tone.

Billy grins impishly, knowing precisely what you’re after, having seen that trick in some of the pornos he used to watch. He wordlessly heeds your request, grabbing one of the plush pillows from his side of the bed, gently lifting your hips, and surprising you with such a casual display of strength as he slots the pillow under your pelvis, causing your hips to angle upwards just slightly.

Billy breathes a dreamy sigh at the sight of you, all spread out and waiting for him. In times like this, he can hardly believe you’re real, that you’re actually here with him, that you actually want him. However, the way you’re gazing at him right now, peering at him over your shoulder with a look of tender adoration, quickly assuages his doubts. You’re real, you truly are here with Billy, you love him just as much as he loves you, and you want this just as much as he does; all he has to do is take it, take you.

Billy smooths his palms along the soft flesh of your hips as he softly asks, “condom or no condom?”

It’s a reasonable question to ask. The two of you have only made love without a condom a couple of times before, once on his birthday, once on yours. Of course, both of you would like to forgo condoms indefinitely. However, you’ve been known to forget to take your pill occasionally. So, since neither of you really wants a kid right now, you two continue to use them regularly, just to be safe. But you’ve been exceedingly good lately, not forgetting to take your pill at all these last two months, and you can’t help but think you deserve a reward for all your effort.

“No condom. Wanna feel you, Billy,” you reply in a whiny, pleading tone that has Billy’s eyes rolling back. Who is he to refuse such a good, pretty little thing like yourself?

He gently rubs his tip along your slit, briefly bumping into your hypersensitive clit, causing you to mewl and squirm needily. Billy’s quick to oblige your wordless pleas, gently easing the head of his cock inside your entrance; it slides in almost effortlessly, thanks to your previous orgasms. The sigh Billy lets out as he slowly slides into you, feeling your warm, wet walls welcome him in, is shaky and breathless. He smooths an oil-slicked hand up the length of your spine as he gradually bottoms out, leisurely giving you inch-by-inch of his shaft as if he’s simply content to continue taking his precious time with you.

Really, though, Billy’s fighting the urge to fill you up all at once with one quick snap of his hips; to take what he needs from you. The muscles of hips and thighs twitch as he restrains himself, using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from fucking you brutishly, pile-driving you into the mattress. He wants to take things slow, needs to take things slow, or else this will all be over far too soon, and all that build-up will amount to minimal payoff. Billy can’t have that; he refuses to give you anything less than his best. This is his opportunity to take care of you, to provide you with what you need, and he won’t take it for granted, not after all you’ve done to care for him.

When Billy finally bottoms out inside your slick, still-spasming cunt, the two of you let out synchronous moans, both so high-pitched and needy that they could almost be considered whimpers. The feeling of your pulsing, silky walls gripping him so tightly is nearly enough to send him over the edge. So, to make this last, Billy has to hold himself back once again; he has to give himself time to acclimate to the overwhelming feeling. He leans forward, his chest presses against your back, whilst he presses warm, sloppy kisses to every part of you that lies within his reach: your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, all of it. Meanwhile, he murmurs soft, sweet praises to you.

“Feels good, love. You always feel so good.”

“God, I can - fuck - I can feel you, feel your pussy fluttering round my cock.”

“You look so beautiful, baby. My pretty petal always looks so lovely f’me.”

Each one has you whimpering softly, has butterflies fluttering in your tummy, and has your walls clenching around him greedily. Billy’s only digging his own grave, making you grip him like that. It’s nearly enough to make him cum, but, fuck, he can’t stop; you deserve to know how good you are and to be worshipped like this.

“Billy, please,” you mewl desperately, rocking your hips slightly to encourage him to move.

“I know, baby,” he coos reassuringly, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek whilst he rests his forehead gently against your temple. “I’ve got you, love,” Billy promises as he slowly begins to roll his hips, thrusting his cock inside your wet heat, “‘M gonna make it so good for you, petal, I promise.”

“’S already good, angel, ’s already so good,” you mewl, equal parts desire and reassurance.

The feeling of his shaft dragging along your walls with each thrust, of his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl, of his heavy balls colliding with your tumescent, tingling clit, is enough to send you into overdrive. Yet it’s still, somehow, not enough; you need more.

“Billy,” you whine pathetically whilst looking back at him with an adorable pout, the kind that you know he can’t resist. As always, the petulant expression has him caving instantly as he leans forward, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss; however, it’s a bit sloppy due to the awkward angle.

“What d’you need from me, love?” Billy murmurs against your lips, his soft, low tone making you melt.

“Need you to fuck me harder, Billy,” you plead pitifully.

Whatever Billy was expecting you to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Your boldness catches him off guard, has him throwing his head back with a loud, lewd moan. As much as he wants to take things slow, to memorize the feeling of your walls gripping him whilst he makes love to you, he’s powerless to deny you. You’ve bewitched him, beguiled him to the point where he’ll give you anything, do anything for you; all you need to do is ask. You have Billy wrapped around your finger; he’s utterly devoted to you and irrevocably yours. He even tells you as much as he pulls away, sitting up on his knees and firmly grasping your hips, pulling you back on his cock as he begins to pound into you just the way you want him to.

“Love you so much. God- fuck- I love you so much, petal,” he rasps.

The force of his thrusts swiftly turns those melodic, lilting moans you love so much into the deep, somewhat raspy grunts that never fail to drive you mad. The sound of skin slapping against skin as his pelvis repeatedly collides with the globes of your arse fills the room, along with the wet, smacking noises made by his cock driving into your slick heat and the dull thump of your headboard hitting the wall. It’s a chorus of sweet, blissful depravity that only increases Billy’s newfound fervour.

“Fuck, baby,” Billy groans deeply whilst reaching round one of your hips to play with your sensitive little bud, swirling the tips of his fingers on it in tight, fast circles, “Wanna live inside this pretty little pussy. ’S always so warm ‘n wet for me.”

You simply mewl in response, too far gone, too fucked out to form any coherent response. Billy’s usually vocal in bed, unable to stifle his loud moans and whines, but he’s rarely so brazenly talkative. He’s usually more unsure, constantly checking in and making sure he’s doing a good job. So, it’s always a treat when he gets like this; confident, daring, and maybe even a little cocky.

When you look back at him over your shoulder, you spot his tongue curled up against his upper lip, a telltale sign of the effort he’s putting into fucking you hard. Were it anyone else, you might giggle at the way their tongue can’t seem to stay in their mouth, but with him, coupled with the sweaty glaze he’s coated in and the way his muscles flex as he drives his cock into you, it seems to only add to the appeal. Billy’s brutish grunts fill the room as he fucks you, and you find that you love the uncharacteristically deep, raspy sounds emitting from him just as much as his dulcet moans.

“God, Billy,” you mewl pitifully.

“’S good? You like it when I fuck you hard, petal?” Billy asks as he leans forward to press a sloppy kiss to your shoulder.

Your mouth falls open with a loud, lascivious moan as you nod meekly. At the same time, your legs begin to shake as the coil in your stomach winds tightly for the last time tonight; your climax approaching swiftly. Billy can tell, can feel how close you are in the way your tight heat clenches around him, like your walls are trying to milk his cock. Your pussy has his thick cock locked in a vice grip, one that he has to fight against the force of as he continues to pump into you, and the feeling of it sends him hurtling toward his own peak.

“‘M so close, dove,” Billy warns you, his grunts morphing back into his desperate, lilting moans as his pleasure mounts.

He leans forward to lavish your neck with kisses, moaning wantonly in your ear whilst continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it; like the only thing he needs in this world is to feel your greedy sex pulsing around his cock.

“You gonna cum with me, baby? Need you to cum with me, love,” Billy pleads, fucking into you fervently as he groans lowly.

You whimper as you look back at him and nod. He offers you a soft, encouraging smile that doesn’t quite match the lechery of this moment but warms your heart all the same. The warmth blooming in your chest seems to grow more prominent when Billy presses a tender kiss to your shoulder and another to the crown of your head.

“Doing so good f’me, love. Taking my cock so well. ’S like it was made f’you, made to fill your- fuck- your sweet pussy,” Billy praises you in between his wanton moaning.

“It was,” you whimper pathetically, “it’s mine. ’S just for me.”

Your possessiveness never fails to make Billy melt. However, it is a bit unnecessary; Billy’s been yours, solely yours, ever since you first spoke to him. You’d found him cowering in a corner at a mutual friend’s party, the same one he’d fucked you at later on in the night, and made it your mission to get him to open up to you, to get him to have some fun. If the nearly ten months you’ve been together are anything to show for it, your unspoken mission was obviously a smashing success.

“That's right, baby. ’S just for you, only for you,” he cuts himself off with a needy groan, “It’s yours, love. I’m yours.”

“I love you, Billy,” you moan weakly. It’s the only warning you give before you cum, the coil in your belly finally snapping as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you, making your muscles twitch whilst a loud, lewd wail of pleasure tumble past your parted lips. The incessant clenching of your walls has the fluids of your release gushing forcefully out of your sex, coating you and Billy’s thighs in a warm, glossy sheen. That same clenching of your sex is also what leads to his own unraveling.

Billy’s head rests between your shoulder blades whilst he lets out a series of wet moans and pornographic whimpers, his orgasm hitting him abruptly and intensely. His hips stutter as he pumps his throbbing cock inside you, shooting rope after rope of cum into your fluttering cunt; however, they finally still when the sensation becomes too much for him. Billy collapses on top of you, careful not to put too much weight on you, as he lets your spasming walls milk him dry, painting them with the last of his release as he fills you to the brim.

The two of you remain like that, still tangled up in each other and unmoving, whilst coming down from your mutual highs, both of you fighting to catch your breaths. It isn’t until Billy begins smattering needy kisses along your neck and shoulders that you start to stir, wanting to roll over so you can kiss his handsome face. He takes the hint, removing the pillow from under your pelvis and easing his softening cock out of your cunt. The sudden movement makes you both hiss, each far too sensitive for such stimulation, but it’s over soon. Of course, even with your hypersensitivity, you whine at the loss of Billy’s cock, missing the feeling of fullness that only he can provide. Your petulance makes Billy chuckle whilst he helps you roll over, knowing you’re too worn out to manage that feat on your own.

You sigh blissfully once you’re face-to-face with Billy again. His beautiful brown eyes, not unlike those of a young calf, gaze down at you adoringly, making you beam up at him happily.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet him softly as you reach up to run your fingers through his light brown hair, still tinted with strawberry blonde highlights from the summer sun, though it’s been months since anyone around here saw that flighty sun.

Billy giggles at your hazy silliness whilst he replies, “Hi, petal.”

“Kiss me?” You ask simply, your tone soft and sugary sweet.

“I’d be honoured,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning down to capture your lips in a languid embrace. The kiss is so tender and saccharine that you both moan softly into it. You part your lips for Billy, letting him deepen the kiss as you wrap your arms and legs round him, encouraging him to fully rest his weight on you. He’s like your own personal weighted blanket. Interestingly, you’d previously never really understood the appeal of weighted blankets, believing them to be suffocating and restrictive, at least not until you cuddled with Billy for the first time and realized how delightful it can be to have such a warm, soft weight pressing against you, holding you down and keeping you safe from the outside world.

Unfortunately, the feeling of the soaked sheets clinging to your skin soon pulls you out of your blissful state. You groan as you reluctantly break away from Billy’s kiss.

“We gotta get up and change these sheets, Billygoat; feels icky,” you inform him with your face pulled into a tight grimace, clearly conveying your discomfort.

“Yeah,” Billy groans in agreement as he pulls away from you, rising up to sit back on his haunches as he peers down at you with a wry smile.

“We’ve gotta get you in the shower, too,” he reminds you whilst he climbs out of bed, coming to stand on his slightly unsteady legs. He then turns to face the bed again, looking down at you.

“I lied to you earlier,” Billy says, continuing his previous line of thought, “You reek, babe.”

The gasp you let out in response to his remark is wholly indignant, aptly conveying your faux offense as you launch a stray pillow at him. It thwacks Billy in the chest, making him drop his deadpan façade as he bursts into giggles.

You climb out of bed on your own shaky legs as you playfully threaten, “You’re gonna be so sorry for that, Billy Knight!”

“Dove, I was kidding!” Billy shrieks giddily whilst making a break for it, running out of the room with you not far behind him, still giggling as he attempts to evade whatever playful punishment you have in store for him. He manages to put some distance between the two of you when he wisely fakes you out, making it look like he’s going to turn into the bathroom before running off in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.

“You’re lucky I love you, Billiam!” You huff out, doing your best to stifle your own giggles. Billy’s laughing increases tenfold at the sound of the odd little nickname you’ve given him.

Billy’s giggles subside as he suddenly pokes his head round the corner and into the hall, fixing you with a genuinely fond smile, catching you off guard.

You halt in place as Billy softly says, “I love you too, petal.”

God, he is unreasonably adorable.

putting symbols at the end so hopefully tumblr won't cut off the last paragraph!!

#ask and i shall reply #soft dom!billy knight #also…#reluctant dom!billy knight #shy bb just has trouble asserting himself sometimes <3 #billy knight #billy knight x reader #billy knight fanfiction #billy knight fanfic #billy knight blurb #billy knight fluff #billy knight strike #billy knight smut #billy knight fic #strike lethal white #once again…#FUCK JKR #we don’t tolerate terfs or transphobia on this blog

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queenlucythevaliant · 2 years ago

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Okay, @laurelindorenan and @catkin-morgs were interested in my Star Wars thoughts, so here ya go. No particular order, just gonna ramble. Idk what all to discuss exactly, so this will be pretty broad-strokes.

I am an Original Trilogy girl at heart and I do maintain that all three are actual masterpieces. All other Star Wars media, good bad or otherwise, is secondary in my book. Not an unusual opinion or anything, but maybe a little out of step with a lot of folks my age. I didn’t actually even see the prequel trilogy until the runup to The Force Awakens.

And I just. I can’t even articulate the fondness and joy and giddy love that I have for those first three movies. For Luke, Leia, and Han. The whole supporting cast. The sound of Darth Vader’s breathing. Wookiee noises. Lightsabers and blasters and the jump to hyperspace. The sets! Hoth and the Death Star and the Millennium Falcon and Cloud City and -- and-- they’re so immersive and tangible and lived in and it always feel likes I could just step into them. The music!

I adore every single solitary thing about the romance between Leia and Han, which was probably the first love story I ever encountered that fully captivated my heart. It’s not just the bickering, it’s the fact that they change each other! They’re fire and steel together, but also Han learns to stay and to care because he loves Leia and Leia steps away from the rebellion to go after Han. He’s blind and frightened and he asks “who’s there” and she replies, “someone who loves you.”

The themes of family tragedy and legacy and love and REDEMPTION! Han coming back to the Death Star and Lando the rebellion general and “I’ve got to save you!”/”You already have.” Luke, Luke the boy who throws aside his weapon and says “I am a Jedi like my father before me.” Who risks everything on the foolish, stupid hope that his father can be rescued from the Dark and he’s right.

Thanks heavily to the influence of my dad, I’m an old fogey Star Wars fan who vehemently rejects the special editions. I alluded to the fact that I switched over to the despecialized edition to show my roommate the original Han/Greedo scene, subtitles be damned. I plan to do the same with the ending of Return of the Jedi. Idk, maybe that’s a little too rigid of me, but I can’t help it. I’m my father’s daughter.

My personal ranking of the current cannon:

The good stuff, in order of preference: Jedi Empire, ANH (tentatively- my favorite OT movie is the one I've watched most recently), Clone Wars season 7, rest of Clone Wars, The Mandalorian seasons 1 and 2.

Revenge of the Sith is compelling in spite of itself, but I can't quite bring myself to call it good. I’m ehhh on Rogue One and Obi-Wan. I have a complicated relationship with The Last Jedi.

I actively dislike Solo, Attack of the Clones, The Force Awakens, Phantom Menace, and The Rise of Skywalker (UGH), in ascending order of badness.

Haven’t seen Andor, Book of Boba Fett, or any of Rebels apart from like, 4 episodes. Waiting to watch Mandalorian s3 with my Dad over Christmas.

I also read a whole bunch of the old EU books as a kid and while the quality is highly variable, I still have very fond memories of quite a lot of it. I fully maintain that the sequel trilogy should have pulled from the New Jedi Order series. I miss Jaina Solo.

The prequels are. Um. They’re less than the sum of their parts. The opening to Revenge of the Sith is straight fire and you know I love me a good doomed romance and I swear I could get high on “This is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause.” But like. Sigh. They’re not good movies, guys. I know a lot of people my age will defend these movies, but I just. No. Y’all are nuts. The older crowd is right, the prequels are, in fact, bad, but hey, at least they gave us Clone Wars.

On the other hand, the sequel trilogy is just a blot on the series. In a vacuum, I do rather like The Last Jedi as a movie, particularly the last hour, but in the context of the original films it's terribly unfair and cruel to Luke. It had some great themes and striking visuals, though. I never much liked The Force Awakens once the initial high wore off because it was super bland and not nearly interesting enough to distract me from the fact that it broke up Han and Leia!! Like what the heck. And of course The Rise of Skywalker is utter garbage.

I wish Disney would stop it with all the new Content(tm), or at least slow down. It's just too much.

idk what else to say. I reblog Star Wars stuff on my other blog sometimes, but ironically (because it’s the biggest franchise in the world basically), Star Wars is really personal to me. I’m always, always, always gonna connect it with my dad.

#when things are really popular and also feel really personal i tend to reflexively kind of pull back with them i think #like it's weirdly hard to talk about Star Wars bc it is just so so big and yet it /feels/ like it belongs to my dad and me #idk #so like i know i haven't said anything extraordinary here but it's what i've got #pontifications and creations #also i do know i'm taking my life in my hands talking about star wars on the internet lol #if you want to disagree with anything here feel free but ya know. be chill #a star wars fan like my father before me

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bolandoando · 2 years ago

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well they took liberties. tish’s actress didn’t rlly improve and as the lead, if we the audience have no confidence in her skill in telling this story, what can we expect from the rest of the adaptation ? i like fonny’s face but i feel anyone couldve been cast in that role and i wouldve loved him so call me biased. i feel more backstory into their childhood together was necessary, this is a story about life in this neighborhood and their love started before the pregnancy and it wouldve been worthwhile to see their relationship as kids. his mom and sisters shouldve been lightskinned if the dialogue was gonna be kept the same as in the book. its odd to call them yellow if theyre not and it wud explain why they hate and blame fonny for everything and think themselves superior to tish’s family. wouldve loved if we had seen how tish’s parents met, this is a layered love story after all. ernestine couldve been meaner and more commanding ? righteous ? she had a whole speech cut out that wouldve defined fonny’s sisters better for us. fonny’s mom and sisters wiping their hands of fonny shouldve been kept in so we could see how tish’s family was all he had now. interesting fonny’s friend didnt have multiple scenes or the breakdown where he spoke on being r-ped. i just wanted every bit of the story put into the movie bc its supposed to be a rich story, everyone has more than 1 dimension everyone is real in the book and so much conflict is missing in the movie when its limited to just the present issue of fonny in jail. i do not like the flash forward. would their lawyer have suggested a plea deal ? would it have taken 5 years if in the book they finally raised up his bail before the nine months were up ? why take a plea when the prosecution has no evidence but the word of a cop they can prove is dirty and racist. its all wacky and i wanted to feel their love and i didnt really. also i wish the scenes at the mex restaurant had more ppl, she’s meant to be seeing fonny around men, theyre his compadres and he isnt just fluent, he’s i-got-a-history-here fluent in spanish, it’s more casual and teasing and the ppl there are family to him and to tish in a way that guys are family to each other. i wanna understand that film adaptations have to make “adaptations” but no i don’t get it at all, this couldve been a beautiful film and i liked the jazz and the nina simone and the stockstill pictures but it didn’t quite feel like how those moments wanted u to believe the movie felt. idk im most disappointed in tish’s actress but im glad fonnys dad doesnt die in the end, i wanted a moment between him and tish’s dad, where theyre scared and glad to be grandfathers. his relationship w fonnys mom couldve been made clearer w some childhood scenes, its important to see that fonnys dad loved him the most and how fonnys mom never liked fonny really. anyways james baldwin should be revived to write his own screenplays bc i dont feel him in this movie in this script and hes got a beautiful voice for u to not hear it

#idk #i wanted to feeeeeeel #also the theme music was too simple

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tales-of-bangtan-the-bard · 2 years ago

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Stranger Things Monster Hunter AU

Okokok so, stranger things fandom hear me out, I’ve got a fic idea. So, idk about the rest of you but I’m very much a sucker for “everybody is in love with everybody, fuck ship wars” type dynamic. Soooo I came up with a plot for a poly!ST (young adult group) fic. It will start off with Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan being in a relationship and eventually Robin, Eddie, Chrissie, and maybe more idk? will be added to the mix. I will be respecting explicitly canon sexualities so Robin will only be dating the women of the poly-group but I will take creative liberties on those whose identities are slightly more ambiguous. The kids are also there, more or less in their canon relationships but I might fuck around and make Byler and Mel be a thing idk.

A blurb, for your consideration:

For hundreds of years, the world has been overrun with bloodthirsty monsters. The remainders of humanity dwell in survivors settlements; heavily walled towns and cities where life has evolved around these new predators. Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan grew up together in one such settlement; a small town called Hawkins. Like many, they were orphaned as children to a vicious attack, and have had to fend for themselves and their adoptive siblings Mike and Will ever since. Left with nothing, the trio were forced to take up one of the more dangerous, yet lucrative careers in the new age: Monster Hunting. That became their reality – looking after their family and kicking monster butt. What they had not accounted for was how much their little family would grow in size, the love they would find along the way, and the mysteries they would uncover together…

The premise is essentially the main trio go on monster hunting expeditions and end up collecting the other members of the gang in various ways. If enough people like the idea I will write it and upload to AO3

Edit: it’s now a fic in progress! Updates are weekly, go check it out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39615183/chapters/99168432

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sweetberrysmooch · 4 years ago

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HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 1]

(Zzzzzzz.....)

(This is unfortunately gonna have to be in several parts, mainly so I can get something out to you guys while still being able to work on the rest ^^)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and sort of... smell hcs? Idk, I got into a mood and couldn’t stop writing about smells so here it goes lol.

Characters: Dream, Techno, Wilbur.

Warnings: There’s mentions of nightmares in Dream’s and a emotional breakdown in Wilbur’s, but that’s it.

Song Recommendation: Dream A Little Dream Of Me- The Mamas & Papas.

Up Next- Quackity, George, and Bad. [pt. 2]

Hope you have nice day today <3 Enjoy!

Dream:

Depending on where you’ve fallen asleep, Dream will kind of work with your position before he lets himself relax.

He prefers it when the two of you are in your bed, with him near the closest door and on his back and with you sleeping against his side, arm stretched over his middle. It’s a good way for him to be between any intruders that may come and to still have you close. But no matter where you are, he has to make sure that he can protect you before he lets his guard down.

Another position he likes is when you’re tucked against his chest under his chin, sitting on his lap or curled up together in bed. Being tall with a broad chest means he makes a pretty good pillow, so use those puppies when you can 👀👀

Smells like a forest, most times. Almost like wild honey, but it’s a very delicate smell. You don’t notice it until your first hug, when you were upset and crying and he pulled you to into his arms so you could hide your face. Now you smell it everywhere he is, in your house, on your bed, even your clothes smell like him. Neither of you say anything, but he slowly begins leaving his soap at your house. Just in case, y’know, if you ever run out.

Other times, when he seems a little more... off, he smells like the beginning to a storm, like ozone and petrichor. Those days he doesn’t speak that much, and keeps you at arms length. He sits quietly and watches your doors and windows with obvious intent, and is gone before morning. You don’t think he even moved from his spot throughout the night, much less slept there. You don’t see him for a few days afterwards.

Usually he remains as still as a log, but sometimes he has fidgeting fits where he twitches and grumbles to himself. Sometimes you’ll even catch him speaking full-on sentences, though they don’t make much sense. Mostly normal out of place stuff, but once you heard him talking about someone called DreamXD, and figured you’d ask him about his oc the next morning.

He has nightmares often too. It’s hard to tell when he’s asleep but he’ll wake up sweating and trembling and lean over you to check you’re still breathing. He won’t ever tell you what they’re about, but it isn’t hard to guess when he buries his nose into your hair and holds you tightly like you might leave him.

If the two of you aren’t sleeping in your house or completely alone, he won’t sleep until you are. Sleep loss doesn’t quite affect him like it does others until after a pretty long time of not doing it, to which he’ll become surlier and more angry until he eventually just clocks out. He wakes up extremely well rested 2 days later and the process repeats. Sleeping at your house is the closest he gets to proper sleeping, and it’s the only time he can ever feel truly relaxed when doing so.

When he can’t fall asleep, he goes straight to watching you. He gently plays with your hair and fiddles with your fingers, relishing in how unmarred and soft they are in comparison to his much rougher, bigger ones. It’s a sure fire way to get him to mellow out and relax, and he finds that sleep ends up coming much quicker.

(Dream wakes up in warmth one night, with rain knocking on window panes instead of what ever shelter he could scrape together and a fire crackling far off. He deduces immediately that he’s in someones house, and it doesn’t take long before he notices the owner, asleep in his lap.

Your legs are slung over the arm of the padded chair he’s sitting in, a book (one of his own, he acknowledges, an older version of a well known storybook that he has memorized already) loosely held onto in your hands, and your head rests on his shoulder.

He expects to feel worried soon, the fear of you getting close to him reappearing to ruin another close moment. But it never comes. All he can feel is the safety and comfort you always emanate, driving away his tension and soothing his mind. He closes his eyes, and falls back asleep.)

Techno:

Techno is very very touch starved ^^; While he may not be the only one on this list that is, Techno is definitely the most…. shy about it. He won’t ever directly ask to sleep next to you, and will actively try to avoid that. He’s afraid of making you uncomfortable but also of being close to you in general? It’s an odd mix of emotions, like eating mints and a hot pepper at the same time and then feeling hell fire burn inside of your body. Anytime the two of you have to sleep in the same room as each other, he will immediately offer you the better spot and go find a chair to sleep in, and he won’t accept a no.

The most you can do is make the choice to go sleep next to him. It’ll weird him out a little before becoming overwhelmingly endearing when he processes the fact that you would rather sleep next to him than somewhere more pleasant. When you’re asleep however, he’ll pick you up and move you to the place where he wanted you to be. He’ll drape his massive cape over your body and (after assuring himself six different times that you are in fact asleep) softly press a kiss to the crown of your head. If he runs his thumb over your cheek once, then thats his business.

Later on in your relationship though, after he relaxes and settles a bit, it’s pretty unusual if you don’t fall asleep next to him. He still won’t outright ask for it, but he kinda just hopes that when he starts his nightly routine before bed that you’ll just join him without needing to be asked. Having you there helps him sleep better, you act as both a silencer for the voices and someone to hold close when he’s at his most vulnerable.

When sleeping in bed together, he prefers to pull you close and curl around you in a half pulled fetus position. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, and actively clings on to you when asleep. It's an impressive feat if you can break free from his strong arms while they’re wrapped around your middle, and you leaving inevitably wakes him up. He’ll go searching for you then, barely awake, just to pull you back to bed to be his teddy bear again.

And speaking of the voices, while generally they’re loud and insistent, occupying his mind more than he does at times, their reaction to you baffles him so much. In place of the usual screaming is gentle mumbling, quiet whispers about how nice you look today or how pink and soft your cheeks look. It’s a welcome relief, and no matter how he hard he ignores the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, he’s glad to know they care for you as much as he does.

He also smells pretty nice, it’s this natural musk he has mixed with a muted minty scent. The mint smell comes from this fancy soap Phil had gotten him a while back that he hadn’t given much thought about until you said something. Techno’s already a clean kind of guy, but after hearing your praises of his smell he almost begs Phil to get him more.

Snores, but in a quiet reserved way. Sometimes he makes soft cute noises, like little happy sounds when you snuggle into him more, or bashful grumbles when you kiss him before bed.

(Sunlight flickers through the blinds of Techno’s room, streaking across your face and waking you from sleep. Sighing quietly, you lift your head a little and stretch as best you can while being held in place at his side, before snuggling back into your spot, fully content to stay there for the rest of the morning.

As you enjoy the moment, you savor the gentle snores that rumble in his chest, his strong heart thumping beneath your ear, and the way his hand kneads your hip as he wakes.

‘It’s a good morning to sleep in.’ Your mind says quietly, and with how he rolls over to face you and kiss your forehead, it seems Techno thinks so too.)

Wilbur:

The way Wilbur sleeps really depends on what Wilbur it is.

To start off though, a few general things. He’s a neat sleeper, doesn’t snore, doesn’t move a whole lot, and smells pretty nice too. His smell also came from a fancy soap he got from Phil, but it smelled like sugar and lemons and it was a lot heavier than Techno’s. He would always take showers before bed because he knew you liked how it smelled, and often he would offered to share it with you (so that you would smell like him). Once he was exiled, he didn’t have the liberty of bathing as frequently as he used to, and he stopped using the fancy soap because he thought it felt tainted. He’d end up smelling like stale air and gunpowder, though he’d never tell you what the smell was from.

With sleep, if it’s pre-Pogtopia Wilbur, you get a fairly standard sleeping arrangement of him crawling up into between your legs to flop down on your stomach with a sigh, waiting impatiently for you to get comfortable and curl around him like you usually do. Your hand comes to cradle his head closer to your chest and he nuzzles into your collarbone before falling asleep near immediately. The two of you wake up tangled completely together and immensely comfortable. Wilbur used to sleep in on days like that, quietly savoring the peace that came with you and your generous hands that would slowly brush through his sleep-messed hair. Even after the election, when he starts descending into madness, the memories serve as a final comfort to him.

Post-Pogtopia Wilbur (Vilbur, if you will) is a stark contrast to his old self. He’s more bitter, more reserved, and even more paranoid. He doesn’t sleep with you anymore, at least never consistently, and the only times he does is when he’s so emotionally fraught that he passes out from the stress and lack of sleep midway through you trying to calm him down. You usually end up just kind of holding him close, praying that when he wakes up you can settle him before he works himself up again. You fall asleep like that, tired and restless.

(He rouses from sleep a few hours later, curled up in your arms and still exhausted from the breakdown. Your chest rises and falls slowly behind him, face smushed into his hair and completely relaxed.

For a moment, all is calm again. He can pretend that it’s just how it used to be before the election had happened, that the two of you are back at home, happy and stable.

His hands tremble when they reach for yours, and he grants himself the freedom to cry while you’re still sleeping, ignoring the fact that the next day will be just like the last, and that nothing has changed.)

See you next time :D

#mcyt x reader #c: dream #c: technoblade #c: wilbur #hc: and there was only one bed (affectionate)#dream x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader

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aomine-ryo · 3 years ago

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kise breaking up with fem s/o like maybe he just used her or it was a bet or idk (yaaas angst but idk if you could make a HEA work at the end?? but yeah :P) scenario pls thank youu ❤️❤️

The DRAMA lmaooo

I really like writing for Kise ngl so it’s kinda long. I hope you like this :) x

Scenario: Kise using and breaking up with a fem! s/o

Kise Ryouta likes playing games. Basketball, football, tennis— you name it, he’s probably played it. But things like sports take a long time to hone enough skills to thoroughly enjoy it. So what does Kise do when he’s in the need for a quick bit of fun? Fool around with girls’ hearts, of course.

Kise’s track record with girls has not been the best. In fact, the track record is so incredibly long that it would take a week to get through it all. Despite this, he gets girls falling for him time and time again because of his looks. It’s quite pathetic to him really. At this point, he’s just seeing how far he can go with this. The moment he gets bored with the girl he’s with, he calls it quits and moves on to the next. Toying with their feelings over and over.

You were fully aware of this. But for some reason, you thought you were different. No one could blame you to be fair. There’s something charming about Kise that no one could resist.

Prior to your relationship, you and Kise were actually quite close as far as classmates went. He was paired as your lab partner for Chemistry and he also sat behind you for Math so it was inevitable that you had to communicate. He’d tell you all about basketball and all his endeavours with other girls and you’d just listen whilst trying to make sure he didn’t cause any chemicals to explode (it was quite ridiculous how often this nearly happened).

“So, Y/N, what’s your deal?” He asked you in the middle of a practical activity one day.

“My deal?” You repeated in a questioning tone, taking your eyes off of your notes to look at him in confusion.

“You know, I’m always the one sharing. Tell me about yourself. Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked you.

You did your best to hold back a laugh so that you didn’t seem pathetic in front of your crush. “No, I don’t,” you answered simply.

“Seriously? When did your last relationship end?” he asked, getting way too comfortable with the questions.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a year ago?” you replied, hoping this conversation would end because it was embarrassing on your part.

“A year?!” Kise exclaimed far too loud for your comfort.

“Geez let the whole school know, why don’t you?” You snapped, a tint of pink rising in your cheeks as you looked around nervously.

“Well that’s just simply wrong. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t be single for that long,” Kise said smoothly, catching you off guard as your cheeks got even brighter.

“Hm, sure,” you muttered in a sarcastic tone as you did your best not to leap in joy at the fact that he called you cute.

“No, I’m serious. Let me take you out on a date,” Kise said with his award winning smile.

You felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest and lay limp on the table in front of you. “Ha ha very funny. As if you even like me like that,” you said, maintaining your cool and logical thinking.

Kise placed his hand on top of yours, which was resting on the table, the sudden warmth sending your mind into a frenzy as you looked at him with concern. “Well I’ve actually liked you for a while now. I was kind of just working up the courage to actually ask you out,” he said, the sweetness of his words paired with the way his thumb grazed over the back of your palm swaying your judgement.

You took a deep breath in attempt to collect your thoughts. You had to be realistic here. You didn’t want to end up like those other girls he talked about. “You’ve practically gone around the whole school. What makes me so different to the other people you’ve gone out with?” you said, hating how harsh you sounded.

Kise seemed to be impressed by your response. It wasn’t often that girls would question him like this. However, it just make him smile with joy. He liked a challenge; you would be adding good fun to Kise’s game.

“I’m not sure. Something about you makes you so easy to talk to. You should know— after all, you know so much about me at this point when I barely know anything about you,” Kise said before tightening his grip on your hand. “We’d work well as a couple, don’t you think?”

You tried to think it over, but your mind was far too blown away with this information that you couldn’t even form a coherent thought. Every part of you screamed at you to say yes, but you were still hesitant. You didn’t want to end up getting hurt. “Could you give me some time to think about it?” You asked, noticing Kise’s smile falter a bit.

Hearing that answer made him ecstatic though. It had been a while since someone seemed to be uninterested. It just meant that he could try harder and improve his game. Which is exactly what he did. He gave you a few days to think about it, but he certainly didn’t sit idle and wait around for a response. He’d send you texts every now and then, engage in flirty conversations with you during class, and even buy you chocolates in attempt to get you to say yes.

It worked though. In the end, you couldn’t say no to Kise Ryouta.

To you, it seemed like he liked being around you. He was always giggly and cheery and your relationship seemed to be lasting longer than the average length of Kise’s past relationships. Maybe you were the one who could finally tie him down.

“Hey there, cutie,” Kise smiled at you as he walked into the classroom of your after-school club one evening.

As usual, the supervisor was not around when Kise entered so he took his liberty in placing a peck on your lips as a way to greet you. A few of his exes were a part of your club and they’d always roll their eyes at the act, but you didn’t pay too much attention to it. “Hi Ryouta,” you’d reply softly once he pulled away, though his hand would remain on your waist.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Err,” your eyes scanned your area to see if you’d left any of your belongings. “Yep, all good,” you nodded, letting him lead the way out as you waved a quick goodbye to your friends.

“So, how was your practice?” you asked him as you walked across the school campus towards the gates.

“It was fine. Nothing new. You should come watch me practice, it’d be much more fun with you there,” he smiled, swinging his arm around your shoulder and causing you to lose your balance for a moment.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the act. You were now pressed against the side of his body as you walked, and the scent of his sweet cologne was stronger than ever. “You know I would if I could,” you replied.

“I like having you there to cheer me on. Plus I won’t miss you during practice then,” Kise said, causing you to blush. He’d used this line on countless other girls before and it always worked. It was fun to watch how you’d all just wrap around his finger so simply.

“God that’s so cheesy,” you said, averting your gaze out of embarrassment.

“Well it’s true,” Kise responded. He didn’t get that kind of response often but it was still clear as day that you enjoyed it.

Kise placed a kiss on the top of your head as you two continued to walk and talk about your days. This was how it always was with Kise. He’d pick you up after school and walk you home, saying goodbye to you with a rather passionate kiss.

Every now and then, Kise would be left home alone, so he’d call you over. And who were you to say no spending time like that with Kise? You had to admit, Kise knew what he was doing. You were never left unsatisfied. Surprisingly to Kise, he actually enjoyed this time you spent together more than he did with most other girls. He didn’t think too much of it though because he had made up his mind about you. You were just another one of his little games.

A few weeks into the relationship, you had started feeling more comfortable with your relationship with Kise. In fact, most of the school had begun to identify you two as a couple. Everything seemed to be going smoothly with him though, so you weren’t all too worried about that because you genuinely did feel like there was something between you two.

One Friday evening though, he picked you up after school with a smile like he always would. The two of you liked to visit a nearby cafe after school on Fridays so that’s where you were headed. He listened to you talk about your day though he seemed to be a little less responsive than usual.

“Hey Ryouta, is something wrong?” you asked him after you two finally settled down at the cafe after placing your orders.

“I know this is kind of sudden, but can I be honest for a moment?” Kise asked, a discomforted expression sitting upon his face.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” you nodded, putting a hand over his reassuringly as a waitress placed his hot chocolate and your strawberry milkshake on the table.

“These past few weeks with you have been amazing,” Kise began. He always hated this part— it was such a pain. “And you’re really a cool person.”

“Aw thank you. That’s so sweet of you,” you smiled as he took a sip of his beverage.

“But I don’t think that this is going to work out between us, Y/N,” he said, making your heart sink.

“What?” you said hoarsely, unable to believe your ears.

“I think we should break up,” he reiterated.

You struggled to fight back your tears as your throat felt as though it was closing up. You should’ve known this would happen. “I don’t understand. What went wrong?”

“Y/N, you’re amazing and I feel like you probably deserve better than me,” Kise said. He’d used this line many times before too. However, a small part of him was genuine about it this time.

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?” You said, thinking out loud.

Kise was taken aback by your response. Did you see through him? “Lying to you? About what?”

“About why you’re breaking up with me. Someone like you wouldn’t think that there’s anyone ‘better’. So what is it? Is there someone else?” you couldn’t believe how blunt you were being. Your mind was moving too fast for you to process what was even going on.

Kise hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have to tell you the truth. He could easily lie his way out of this. Make up any other reason that isn’t the truth to spare your feelings. How could he say that he’s bored of playing around with you in a nice way? “I never actually wanted to be with you,” he said, words flying out of his mouth as if he drank a truth potion.

“Excuse me?” You said, appalled by what you were hearing.

“I mean, I was using you— wait no, I was just messing around.” Kise was a stuttering mess. Why was he saying this stuff? Why was he nervous to hurt your feelings? Why couldn’t you have just accepted that he wanted to break up easily like everyone else?

“You were using me?” You repeated his words, your sadness slowly turning into anger. “So was I just another fling of yours?”

“No,” Kise replied immediately. What was he saying? Yes you were.

“No?”

“I mean, yes you were. I was just bored and decided to date you for fun,” Kise said honestly, unable to even look at you in the face.

“So it’s true then. I’m just another one of your throwaway girls?”

“Yes,” Kise said. His eyes looked down in shame. Why was he mad at himself?

“You’re such an asshole!” You yelled, throwing your milkshake into his face, gaining the attention of everyone at that cafe. “Never talk to me again.”

You stormed out of the cafe, wiping the tears away from your eyes as you did so. Kise was left sticky, soaking and dumbfounded. This was certainly a first. He grabbed a few tissues to wipe the drink off of himself, but it was no use, he was still visibly covered in it. He quickly left the cafe too after apologising to the workers for causing a scene. He felt so embarrassed. Not once did he ever feel so hurt after a break up.

“Ugh what a bitch,” he muttered to himself as he walked home all sticky. Why was that so incredibly difficult? If anything, he was glad you told him not to talk to you again because he was equally mad at you for putting him on the spot like that.

When he got home, he immediately took a shower and tossed his clothes in the laundry basket. Once he was finally clean, he landed on his bed with a tired sigh, beginning to go through his phone like he usually would when he gets back from school. He noticed that you had blocked him on all social media, so there was no way of contacting you— not that he wanted to anyways.

He spent the rest of his weekend lazing around and going out with his friends like he usually would. He tried to get a fresh start and get the numbers of a few cute girls he saw, but for some reason all he could think about was you. He’d ask for a girl’s number and they were more than compliant, no witty comments like you would do. He’d go to the mall with his friends and remember which stores you liked to shop at. Hell, he couldn’t even have peace in his own bedroom because he’d remember you laying there with him. Countless other girls have been on this bed so why were you the one that stuck?

Kise did his best to avoid you at school. It wasn’t all that hard since you were doing the same. You inevitably had to work with him during Chemistry, but you could do so with minimal words exchanged.

A few weeks went by and Kise still couldn’t get you out of his mind. He tried going out with other girls but they never kept Kise’s attention long enough for him to forget about you. There were even times where he’d almost call them by your name. It was getting pathetic at this point. Maybe he did actually like you.

Kise’s mind entertained this thought for a while and it was slowly picking him apart. It even began to affect his performance at basketball because his mind was so occupied with the thought of being in an actual relationship with you. He was beginning to grow tired of running extra laps as a punishment for not being focused.

What made you so different? Kise couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps that milkshake to the face woke him up. No other girl would dare do that to him. We he really being swayed by the fact that you threw a milkshake at him?

Eventually he gave up trying to figure it out. However he did come to a conclusion. He wanted to be with you. For real this time.

He managed to run into you after school one day. After dating you, he managed to memorise your schedule so finding you wasn’t too much of an issue for him. “Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Kise said.

Hearing his voice immediately made you turn on your heel and attempt to walk away as fast as you could. It was no use though, Kise quickly caught up to you and stopped you my grabbing onto your wrist.

“What the hell do you want?” You snapped.

“I wanted to say that I was sorry for using you like that,” Kise replied, pushing away his pride.

“What do you want me to say? That it’s okay that you wasted my time?” You retorted, trying to wiggle your wrist away from Kise’s hold.

“I genuinely am sorry. Something about you made it so that you never left my mind and now I’m trying to change, I just don’t know where to start,” Kise explained. “How do I get you to forgive me?”

“You can’t. Just leave me alone, why don’t you?” You said, finally breaking away from his grasp and walking away before he could bring you to tears again.

Kise ran after you once more. “Y/N, please. I really like you. I want to date you— for real this time,” he pleaded.

You finally stopped in your tracks. You stared at him with the coldest expression your face had ever worn. “Are you insane? What kind of desperate idiot do you take me to be to think that I’d agree to going out with you again?” you said, raising your voice.

“I don’t know what more I can say except that I’m sorry about before. I genuinely do like you, Y/N. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since we broke up. Ask any girl I’ve dated and I can assure you that I’ve never backtracked like this before,” Kise said, noticing tears of frustration beginning to well up in your eyes.

If you were being honest, you really wanted to believe that he liked you. The time you spent together wouldn’t have felt like a waste if that were the case. However it still hurt. And you didn’t want to be hurt like that again. “I don’t know, Kise. How can I be sure that you’re not lying to me again?” You said.

“I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again, but I can promise that I won’t lie. If I lie, I’ll buy you as many milkshakes as you want to throw at me— you can hold me to that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of his promise, putting a smile on Kise’s face as well. You took a moment to think about it before finally letting out a sigh, “Fine, I’ll give you another shot. But one lie and you’re buying me ten milkshakes to throw at you,” you warned.

Kise’s heart filled with glee. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like this. He was so elated that he nearly started skipping down the pavement. “Oh my god thank you,” he said, pulling you into the tightest hug ever. “I’ll treat you right this time, Y/N-cchi.”

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #knb #kise ryouta #kuroko no basket x reader #kise ryota x reader

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plush-rabbit · 3 years ago

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Dating Headcanons - Satan

Request: Catch me over here requesting Satan (NOT from obey me!) - fuck, c’mon let Plush write about idk the classic Satan. Fanfic of religious actual Satan. For fun. Just to see what happens !!!

A/N: Babes, I love ya, but like I did research for this!! I opened tabs for this!!

Often perceived as being something of evil, and being less than beautiful, it’s always a shock when you remember that he is beautiful. Satan is supposed to tempt those, and to appear anything less than beautiful, would only make sinning that much more difficult. He appears before you with however you want him to look like, an image of beauty that is almost too good to be true. His smile is sharp, and holds pain and unbridled joy, and it’s too contagious for you to ever steer away from him, to not smile before him and want to follow him wherever he goes.

He has his one name- Satan, but often, he is revered by other names, the falsehood, taking over, corrupting his own image with others, confusing him for another devil. He, however, lets you call him whatever you desire- of course with some limitations. Of course, he’ll take any name, smiling and lying as if it were his second nature, and you realize with a heavy feeling, that it really is his second nature.

A roaring lion, as he was called in Peter 5:8, he is one to be proud, to hold himself high up, to take pride in his beauty and be full of wisdom and charisma to have people follow him and still embrace him as a symbol of liberty. He’ll always be the one that people have their eyes on, will be the ethereal one in the relationship, but he’ll be damned- again- if you allow yourself to speak negativity towards yourself. It’s as if you’re spitting on him, thinking that he’d ever be with someone so grotesque and bitter.

His essence is from God, something divine and all-powerful- but not all good- just something different from the man above, something different that promises salvation rather than tortuous damnation. He can be a good partner, a damn good one that knows what you want to hear, that knows just how to entice you into abandoning your responsibilities in favor of being with him. He’s intoxicating, like a drug that’s been injected into your system, your mind too foggy to think clearly as he kisses you with wine still on his lips.

A father of lies. An old snake. A great dragon. He’s heard all the blasphemous names that've been spat, but it’s never affected him. He isn’t some tortured soul, he’s something greater. All the names that are directed towards him are by mere humans, sheep that follow blindly and are too indecisive to choose whether God is to be loved or feared. He’s been around much longer than you have, than you can ever imagine. It’s so easy to trick you, to tell you honeyed lies and give you whatever you want to distract you. He may be a creature that was splayed out to incite fear in others long ago, but he knows how to smile through the blood and call for followers.

Riches lie with him, money so plentiful that he hoards it, and it grants him a title of the great dragon. He’s able to afford whatever it is that he or you wants. He’s able to trick you into wanting things, to let your guilty heart rest for a moment, to turn a blind eye on a beggar that stands on the streets under a sunny day without reaching for your wallet. He takes you to luxury stores, a hand on the small of your back as piles accessories and clothing into the arms of an overworked employee, smiling as he encourages you to buy to your heart’s content.

Whether it’s due to the affects of your sin, or just for the simple fact that he’s gotten used to you, he really does enjoy making you smile. He’ll shroud you in the most expensive jackets, letting the fur tickle at your cheeks, a soft white that fluffs like snow over you, as he opens the door for you. You’ve grown more avaricious, clasping your hands together and asking him to buy you something and no matter how small or big it is, he can’t deny you. He could never deny the ever growing sin inside of you.

Of course, religion is difficult to avoid, and no matter where you look, there is always talk of it. Sometimes, it’s tasteful, done in a way that has him appreciating how people can come up with such beauty, but other times it has him twisting and writhing, blood on his tongue and fire searing under the soles of his shoes. He doesn’t mind the propaganda, but he can see the toll that it does take on you and a part of him has him feeling sick at the thought of you being anything less than you.

There is a protective side in him, whether it’s due to you being a possession of his, or a part of him that still loves humanity, he won’t tolerate any danger that is in your path. Whether it’s as small as someone letting their pets roam in your yard, he’ll visit them at night, pictures turning upside down, echoes in the walls, lightbulbs bursting and scratching into skin, all to have the simple message of being a good samaritan engraved in their wall till sunlight peeks through their window. However, if it’s something as serious as danger to your physical form, he’s more than happy to play the devil, to crawl from the closet and possess them, their heads twisting, eyes scratched out with their consciousness still aware, the pain so searing that it brings him to a climax.

The devil, Satan, is a sight to behold. He is beautiful, all that you could wish for wrapped in a neat package, perfect to alter to whatever or whoever you need or want. But, he is also hideous, warped and twisted, and it doesn’t stop him from seeking you out. Horns twisting out, mangled wings that wrap around you and hands that hold you too tightly that bruises will be left in its wake. He is possessive, always keeping an eye on you, never wanting you to be alone, and taking care of your every whim, making you dependent on him so he can claim you with an eager, and hungry kiss.

#satan headcanons #satan x reader #im not gonna tag this as om #but!!!#if it finds its way their #then like cest la vie #or however its spelled #fun fact i took french #and forgot everything #anyways yeah!!#i kinda want a satan of my own??#like i wanna be taken care of #i can cook and clean #anyways yeah

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sladewilsonisanantihero · 3 years ago

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The Original Intent of Terra and how Deathstroke got the bad end of the stick for it

Okay, Deathstroke Children (Idk what to call you guys because fellow Deathstrokers would end this conversation immediately), I found the time to do this, so let's get to it!

(Note: My original laptop broke with my comics, so I have no images to spare, so it will be sourced. Another note: Many words will be in bold. Partly so that for those reading will not lose track.)

But if tl;dr:

Cold Hard Truth: Everyone from Terra fans to Deathstroke fans needs to stop seeing these characters as real people.

Original Terra wasn't human trafficked or whatever sob story people want to label her with. The CREATORS intended her to be written as Evil without the mental illness and to die for the shock value. They had Raven, The Literal Empath, spell this out in Judas Contract. As for Deathstroke's involvement, he was shoved into her creation story, and Marv Wolfman himself recognized his mistake in doing that.

And for those calling Deathstroke a nazi, Original Terra had nazi-like beliefs where common people should fear and serve them or be killed off just because they're 'special'. Again, BLUNTLY stated in the Judas Contract. So if you're going to call Deathstroke a Pedophile, we'll call OG Terra a Neo-Nazi. (But I highly advice for Deathstroke Fans to not start that kind of war, but I had to say what I had to say.)

Don't get me wrong. (Hopefully all) Deathstroke fans know that their relationship was wrong just like Marv Wolfman, and we do not support pedophiles! But Slade isn't a pedophile! He was never intended to be written as one! It was a mistake made on many levels and should be rewritten like OG Terra's Evil Neo-Nazi-like personality, instead of being thrown into cancel culture.

Also for Deathstroke fans, don't get upset over their content and begin any argument emotionally. Just enjoy whatever good content we can get and support it if you can. Hopefully we'll get our Deathstroke movies and so on!

So I've briefly chatted with one of you over the matter with Terra/Tara Markov and how upsetting it is about how people refer to Slade Wilson as a Pedophile. That is a serious accusation that would make it very uncomfortable to argue about since it can easily make it seem like we justify the actions of pedophiles, and that we are part of pedophile culture that does exist in social media space.

AND WE SHOULDN'T, AND FOR ANTIS READING THIS WE WON'T.

But there was a time when I used to have a blog called friendlyremindersofsladewilson, where I defended Slade and put the blame all on Terra. I was 14 at the time, and looking back at it, I am not proud of it because I realized now as an adult how I defended it for most of the wrong reasons, but still stand with the fact that SLADE IS NOT A PEDOPHILE.

And since this took place when I was so young, it compelled me to write this post because I fear some of you are really young, too, and may end up in this regretful position.

So to make it clear, what Slade had been written to do is a crime, and we should acknowledge it, but not in the way as if it was a crime acted out in real life.

What I mean by that is that there's a clear separation between fiction and reality where one isn't real (Duh!). In this case, it's about the mistakes made between fiction and reality. In reality, mistakes made by the person responsible is on the person. In fiction, mistakes made is dependent on the creator's intent, and sometimes the creators can make mistakes themselves.

Most notably Terra's:

Tara Markov/Terra was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez.

In Marv Wolfman's literal website, he stated in his online "What the-?" column:

"Which leads to Terra. That was easy. George and I wanted a Titan who betrayed the others. we also wanted to play against every reader conception of who characters are. George and I knew her whole story before we began and we knew she would die. We set the story up with her trying to destroy the Statue of Liberty to show she was the bad girl, but we knew if George drew her as a cute kid everyone would simply assume she would be ‘turned’ from the dark side because that’s the way it was always done which is why that wouldn’t be the way we did it. Tara was insane an stayed that way right until the moment she died. By the way, she IS dead. I don’t know what other writers will do with her – if anything – but if they want to honor the original series they will leave her dead. The Terra from Team Titans was – as stated – some kid the villain kidnapped and physically and mentally altered her into looking and acting like the original. But she was NEVER the real Terra."

And it should also be noted that he stated before this statement that:

"...Only mistake I think I made with him is having him have a physical relationship with the 16 year old Tara Markov. That was wrong."

So Marv Wolfman himself recognizes that what he did was a mistake, but his intent on Terra was never to write a victim.

And quick note: Insanity isn't written as a mental illness here. It's written like how many villains are labeled as insane for having skewed beliefs that deviates from the common good.

Terra truly had some nazi-like beliefs where she BELIEVED that everyone who wasn't 'special' like her and the Teen Titans deserved to be treated like shit because they weren't 'special' like them. She bluntly said it herself in the Judas Contract.

As for George Perez's comment in an interview I found in this website:

"GEORGE: Tara was just a cute little girl, although I based a little bit of that on my wife Carol’s sister, Barbara. A little upturned nose… Barbara does not have the teeth that Tara had. I wanted Tara to be a girl who looked normal. Which also means her death caught everyone even more offguard.

Tara, she was made to be killed; she served her purpose. That was it.

ANDY: You didn ‘t get any attachment to Tara?

GEORGE: No, because I knew we were going to kill her. So I deliberately used all the things to make her as likeable and cute as possible, so people would never believe we were going to kill a sixteen-year-old. And she was a sixteen-year-old sociopath. She was one of our cleverest gimmicks; we deliberately created her in order to lead everyone astray. So we couldn’t build any fondness for her, ’cause we knew full well what her whole motive for existence was. Her existence was basically to keep the stories interesting; we were tossing a curve that no one would have expected.

ANDY: You didn ‘t even love to hate her, huh?

GEORGE: No. I loved handling her, because she was such a good idea. But she was an idea. Not as much a person. She was there to show exactly how much their humanity can be one thing they have to be careful about, the Teen Titans have to be careful about. . . they can be too trusting, or their own weaknesses can be used against them."

Terra was supposed to be a representation of An Evil Betrayal of Trust and That Not All Cute Girls Are Good.

But they took it too far by making her sleep with Deathstroke because they wanted to truly make her look evil by literally sleeping with the enemy. Y'know because this was the 80s, and women having sex was an evil act back then, and that point of view has somewhat or barely improved 40 years later.

Deathstroke was just shoved into this idea, and Marv tried and perhaps failed at trying to undo this mistake with his talk with Beastboy (Tales of the Teen Titans issue #55) and before his confrontation from Wintergreen (Deathstroke (1991); Chapter 35).

So just as I had stated at the top in the tl;dr, it was a mistake made on many levels and should have been rewritten out just as many had done with OG Terra's true personality, and be done with it.

Random person: "He still slept with a 16-year-old."

And it's not that hard to make other heroes and villains do this mistake. Because again, it's all fiction. Deathstroke's fictional. As in Not Real, so we could literally undo the damage by rewriting this mistake. Or make it worse by making Terra the rapist by her using her Earth powers to bind Slade down and force him, and you can't deny that it's plausible. Because she's fictional. Anything can happen. So why didn't Slade tell Beastboy whether he slept with her or not, maybe it was because he really didn't want to but he was forced into it. And that's just something you can't dump on a very emotional man who was trying to kill you a moment ago.

ALL THE POSSIBILITIES BECAUSE IT'S FICITIONAL!

But ANYWAY, I went way too dark there.

Ending on a brighter note: Personally to all Deathstroke fans, please value your mental health, please don't start any arguments that'll compromise it, and continue supporting Deathstroke in whatever way you can!

#Deathstroke #Slade Wilson

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Note

can u do an enemy to lovers au with han jisung where they are in a hidden fwb relationship? thank u~ 🥺

I really look some creative liberties with this one HA but the product...hehe, I hope that you enjoy it love! I also kinda accidentally made it a period piece??? Like 50′s-60′s? Idk how this happened but the vibe and the music I was listening to while writing really put me in that mood haha

blue velvet | reader x jisung |

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ angst

Tags: stripper!jisung, stripper!reader, bi!jisung, enemies (competitors) to lovers, secret relationship, friends with benefits, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, degrading names, choking, spanking, v mild spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you slippity slap it friends), creampie, cum eating, scratching, oral (reader receiving) semi-public sex, hello yes this one is kinda filthy ooooops

Word count: 3.2k

Recommended listening: Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

Fuck. It’s hot in here. Too fucking hot.

Reconnaissance. That’s what you were doing. It was fucking disgusting. Everyone in the room was just as fake as the pleather belts that held their guts in. You had never seen anything more embarrassing in your whole life. Desperation was sweating off the walls and sunk into your skin. It made you feel sick.

You scoffed and took a long sip from your drink.

“One more?” An attentive maître d' asked you--if he could even been called that in a place like this.

You covered your hand over your glass. You refused to pay for any more of that cheap tasting shit.

Next to you a rapt group of men in suits wagged their tails at the view. She wasn’t even very pretty.

Rolling your eyes, you scoped out the rest of the room, adorned in red velvet and gold nearly everywhere. What was this? A high school musical? Even those had more class than this place.

You checked your sliver wristwatch lined by dainty diamonds. You always did like gifts. Too bad rarely anyone would get anything in return.

The girls on the stage twirled around, giving the audience the best view that they could, tiger-prowling to those waving bills in their grabby hands. They were tanned and fashioned into strappy and lacy pieces that looked like they all must have shared them. Pathetic.

“You come here often?”

He swirled some clear looking liquid in his crystal glass, the little string of olives clinking the side.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to them.” He head nodded to the same group of greasy businessmen. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time...and likely my last.”

“Huh. Tough critic.”

He didn’t look like the rest of them. Younger, reeking less of starved attention. He had golden blonde hair, and a silk white shirt unbuttoned far into a deep V. He was toned: the muscles on his arms were visible under the thin fabric and his abs made a show thanks to the abandonment of buttons. He wore dress pants perfectly fitted for his thighs. He was...attractive...but not your type.

“What’s not to like? Beautiful people, drinks to make you forget your mistakes? Not your scene?”

You rested your chin in your palm. “It’s my scene, but not this scene.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another swing, pivoting his body towards you, legs spread wide. “I think I know someone who can change you mind though.”

“In this place? Unlikely.”

“Come on...just stay a little bit longer and they’ll come out. They’re the last act of the night for a reason.” He signaled to the maître d' and whispered something into his ear. “Drinks on me. If you’ll stay?”

“Free drinks?” You put down your empty glass. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was thirty minutes till closing, and you had stayed much longer than you had liked. After all the drinks you had to pass the time, you were starting to feel a little buzz, but nothing much really phased you these days. You started to wonder if he had been pulling some kind of prank. Nothing you had seen was what he had hyped it up to be.

The lights dimmed behind you, making the room dark enough for the tiny white candles at the tables to provide the only light. Spotlights flashed on from behind you too, illuminating the U shaped stage. With the lights, the music faded into something much more sultry.

The first two girls stepped out, both of them wearing white sets that were nearly identical with sheer robes. Two others stepped out after them, this time wearing red and black. It was the same thing you had been seeing all night.

The spotlight tightened.

It was him.

He was wearing a button down and those same pants, everything seemed so tight on him, accentuating every curve of his body. Strangely, when he walked out, he was greeted with wolf-whistles and hoots. He winked back at his spectators, nearly falling out of their chairs to see him better. It was even stranger considering the audience was filled with men.

He walked around the girls on stage as if he was inspecting them, his eyes eating up every bit of their skin. He confidence was unparalleled. He would run his hands down their sides, digging his fingers into their hips. They circled around him until his body was covered with their hands, teasing the audience, just barely touching around his dick, which with his pants...there was little room for imagination.

Silent moans left his lips once they started undressing him giving him their full attention. The cheers grew even louder. Before long, he was nearly fully undressed swaying to the music. He wore nothing special, just some briefs, like any normal person would. It was...confusing.

He took turns “giving attention” to every girl, looking at them like he worshiped the ground the walked on. They would grind their bodies together, or he would pick them up in his arms, and they would wrap their long legs around him. He would pantomime fucking them from behind, screwing up his face as if he really was. Everyone went crazy for that.

It didn’t last for very long and the lights soon went all the way down, leaving the stage scattered with sweating bodies, panting as if they had just cum, entangling themselves all in eachother.

You were a bit unenthused, but it was different. There was something about him that was different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Were the drinks enough for you?” His voice called to you just as you were about to leave. This time, he returned wearing the same silk shirt.

“I hope that I didn’t make you pay for too many.” You pouted with faux empathy.

“And the show?” He grinned a little.

“Interesting. Considering a place like this.”

He laughed a little. “I help with...the imagination.”

“So they pretend that you’re them. I’ll admit, it’s smart.”

“You’d be surprised, somedays I get more male customers compared to most of the girls here.” He bit his lip as if recalling a memory. “They pay well too, pay for whatever they aren’t getting at home. Who am I do deny them that when it’s my job?

“You sleep with them?”

“The ones I like.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Can be. In a good way.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So. Did I prove you wrong?”

“Hmmm. I could do better.”

He popped his brows up. “You could?”

He was intriguing. You decided to give him a bite. “I dance at La Rose Rouge.”

“You dance at that overpriced, snotty ass place?” His words turned poisonous. What’s it like dancing for a guy who’s got a stick so far up his ass--”

“--The price is right, and you get what you pay for there...especially if its me.”

“How am I not surprised?”

“I need to go, I’ve seen all I could here.” You bowed at him a little.

“Wait.” He grabbed at your arm. “I’ve still got one more thing to show you. Follow me.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your insides were on fire as he fucked into you. Every time that he thrust into you, he was relentless and unforgiving. He was going so fast you could barely catch your breath. You were bent over some dusty old sofa in an equally dusty dressing room. You would kill him if he left bruises on your hips from how hard he was holding you.

“fuck. shit.” He panted, then reached one of his hands around to rub at your sensitive sex, slick with your excitement.

He was so fucking cocky, but he knew what the hell he was doing. He bent over your back, sucking into your skin, wrapping his arms around you to tweak your nipples. He was wrecking you from the inside out, devouring you like he had never tasted anything like you.

He kicked your legs open even farther. “Fucking moan for me, slut.”

You had barely let him hear more than a few gasps, he didn’t deserve it. You wanted him to moan for you.

“Who are you calling slut?” You said with venom.

You shoved off of him, and he looked devastated. He was cute. He even frowned regretfully like he had done something wrong.

The metal of your rings dug into his neck when you grabbed it, squeezing as hard as you could. Your hot breath snuck into his ear, “No, you fucking moan for me...slut.”

You attacked his lips, tracing the insides of his mouth with your tongue. He moaned right into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass with his two hands. Your teeth bit his lip and pulled. His dick trembled between the two of you and he rutted against your stomach to get some kind of relief.

He took one of his hands to your hair before resting his glossy brown eyes on you. “I’d do anything for you.” His voice quivered. “You ruin me.”

“Get on the floor.” You commanded him, and he did as he was told without a question, laying his bare body on the cold concrete.

The chill of the stone stung your knees, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to see him unravel. You straddled down onto him, taking him in as you sunk down.

“oh shit,” slipped off your tongue without you having much control over it.

You rolled your core over him, back and forth, circling yourself and bouncing up and down as he rolled his eyes back, licking his lips while you did everything that you wanted. As you bounced he held on to your ass, digging his fingertips in. You had your eyes closed, so you didn’t see it when he rose is hand to slap you hard. It burned beautifully.

“—Jisung? Are you done yet? The rest of us are going out.” A female voice called, and rattled the locked door.

“FUCK OFF.” He groaned, and held onto your ass even tighter.

You let out a unamused tsk. “Jisung? That’s your real name?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead swiftly took you in his arms to lay you down. The chill of the floor startled you into wince, but it felt amazing compared to how hot you were. He entered you immediately again, then slung your legs over his shoulders. His blonde hair appeared to bounce a little with each thrust.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you dragged your nails down his arms, waterfalling pink, perfect, lines. His whole body seized at the sensation, sending him into a fury. He licked his hand from palm to fingers, not breaking your gaze as he used it to rub relentlessly at you.

You were on the edge.

“Want my cum, you whore?”

You were close as well, and it clouded your senses--you felt yourself slipping into him after holding back for so long.

“ye-yes, I want it.”

He came in seconds, doubling over you when he did, panting like a dog, with you gasping just as hard from your own orgasm. He seemed to shake a little as he came down, nearly suffocating you with his body weight. You jiggled your hips just a little to get a rise out of him. You had guessed correctly, someone like him couldn’t take overstimulation.

“Fuck, wait, wait. I-I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed a little and stopped. “You’re no fun.”

“I thought I literally just proved to you that I’m loads of fun.”

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“You liked it?” He ran his hand through his sweaty roots.

“You made me cum, so...usually I have to fake it.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

“I’m honored.” He grinned a little pridefully.

You reached down to your hole to catch a few drops of his cum on your fingers, stretching it out a little and playing with it. He watched you as you did so, eyes wide. You stood to grab his jaw, sticking your fingers in his mouth which he eagerly sucked.

“Where have you been my whole life?” He looked up at you in wonder.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that...Jisung.”

He watched you then as you dressed, careful not to forget your gorgeous silver wristwatch.

“I won’t be coming back, so don’t expect that this will happen again.”

“Wait--” He stopped you before you grabbed the door handle. “You didn’t tell me your name--”

“--That’s something you don’t need to know.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darling, is there anything that I can get you?”

Your manager swept a caring hand to hold you by the small of your back.

“No, thank you though, love.” You shone brightly back to him.

“Just let me know? So far we’ve got a queue for you. Four gentlemen and three ladies. I expect that the tips tonight will be generous...it’s payday.”

You politely nodded. “Of course.”

“Have you been having a hard time with any of the new faces?”

You took a sip of your brandy. “Some of them have some mouth, but I’ll make them dignified. You can trust me.”

“I always do.” He gently kissed your cheek. “Ah, I forgot to mention, one of your customers brought you a gift. It’s in your dressing room; he wants you to wear it for your dance tonight.”

“I do love gifts.”

“Go get ready darling, you haven’t got much more time.”

Once you were in your dressing room, a medium sized white box waited for you on your vanity. There was no labels; no indication that it was from a luxurious brand. You opened it, and the shirt was wrapped in light pink tissue paper. It was too short to be a robe, but it was silk and white with buttons that looked more decorative rather than useful. You figured it must have been your customer’s: many of them got off to you wearing their clothes. It wasn’t your usual style, but you knew how to make anything work.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“And for our last act of the night: the wonderful, the illustrious...”

You walked out to the silent stage: meant only for you, the stage lights yellow, shrouding you in their brilliance. Your chest was bare, save for the silky shirt falling off your shoulders. They were cheering for you, throwing paper bills at you and calling your name, but you couldn’t hear them at all. You had never felt so whole in your life since being on the stage. It seemed like the rest of your days were just spent chasing some kind of feeling that merely resembled that.

Barefoot, you pranced along the stage, twirling like a ballerina even, letting the shirt billow up just so they could see your perky bottom. With all of their eyes on you, you felt like an absolute vision--like an ethereal being, desired, but impossibly attainable.

The jazz song played on by the live players, a muted trumpet and violins accompanied you. Your eyes swept across the blue velvet curtains of the booths, to every man and woman looking at you in awe. You let the shirt slip just a bit farther, revealing your back, winking. You never had to show them much. It was your charisma that they thirsted for--and that they could only get a small taste of.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darlin’ you’re a catch, an absolute catch.” Your manager snuck up behind you taking your makeup off to hand you the ridiculously fat stack of bills. “You keep us afloat baby, you know that I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed.

“Stop flattering me.” You remarked with a smirk. “I know.”

Your manager left, then the curtain to your room screeched again. He slowly stepped into the light, applauding slightly.

“He’s right you know? Even I can’t get enough of you.”

It was him, cocky smile, swept blonde hair and all.

“You again? I’m surprised that you even made it in here at all. Considering who you are.”

“What? The competition? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

You patted some serums into your face. “Better leave soon before they rid you of that handsome face of yours.”

“You saying that I’m handsome?” He snarked.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing you, I thought I made that clear? Isn’t that what you were doing when you came to my club?”

“Like what you saw?”

“I stand corrected.” He let up, advancing towards you at your vanity. “And you look just as stunning in my shirt as I thought you would.”

“Your...this is yours? How the hell did you mange that?”

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want it back then.”

“No...you can keep it...if you promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

He reached out for your hands, which you tentatively took. He swept you up, pulling you into his chest with eyes dipped in lust.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He spoke onto your lips with heated breath.

You would’ve been lying if you had said his lips didn’t look appetizing.

“One more time.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d want to fuck you again.”

“You haven’t been thinking of it too? My hands on your body...”He caressed your body down, “My lips on yours?” He pulled you in by the chin to carefully part your lips with his. “My dick filling you up?” He pulled you in closer to feel his pulsating dick. “You don’t think about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want me. All you have to do is say it and I’m yours.”

“You’re looking to get killed if they know you’ve touched me.”

“I’d happily die for you.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that...Jisung.”

His lips fell to your neck where he pressed slow kisses onto it. “Just say it...”

The cool of his saliva on your skin met the air, tingling. You couldn’t believe you found yourself considering...

“I know you want to...”

“This won’t be a common occurrence.” You got out, suppressing your moans.

“Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“And we’ll see about that.” He slyly grinned, meeting your lips once again.

He swept you up, and your legs naturally wrapped around him. He carried you out of the dressing room to the main hall, pulling you both into the nearest booth, drawing the blue velvet curtains behind him. His eyes devoured you, casting aside his silk shirt that loosely clung to you. You threw your weight onto the table, opening your legs for him, inviting him. He chuckled a little at the action.

“I can imagine you must’ve been thinking of this as well then.” He kissed down your stomach, removing what underwear you were barely wearing. He kissed and sucked at the skin in your inner thighs, kindling your excitement. Spit gathered on his tongue, which he let drip down to your sex which glistened for him.

Your core begged for that feeling once again, that feeling only he could give you: the one that made you feel alive, like you weren’t just chasing some impossibility.

He lapped at you slowly with his tongue, awakening your whole body.

“I fucking want you.”

#FRICK I LOVE THIS CONCEPT #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #han jisung smut #stray kids asks #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #stray kids angst

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goldafterglow · 4 years ago

Text

hold me in the meadows

Summary: You are Ezra’s dreamcatcher and he is your burrow.

Request: “The sleepy prompts!! Lovely! Can you do “I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks and now they’re gone because of you, how did you do that?” with (can you guess??) EZRA” - the love of my life, @opheliaelysia

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k+

Tags: angst?, fluff, more metaphors that don’t mean anything, weird touching lol idk what the fuck this fic is, this is also not beta read so send the flood send the flu

Author’s Note: If you left a like or comment or reblog on Dissolve Me I’m telling you with as little shame as is humanly possible that I definitely reread it at least 3 times. Feedback means the word to me! also this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble and now it’s over 4.5k words if that tells you anything about me. I apologize in advance I think I’ve really outdone myself w/ my bullshit this time

Gif Credit: @pascvl; Also shout out to @pascalplease sorry I spammed you for nothing dsfgdsg

Ezra is staring at you.

He’d met you on one of those toxic moons, one of those deceitfully picturesque mirages where the dust glitters like lily petals but the air would kill you before you could think to appreciate it. You were a floater; a nomad with no place to call home, but you figured you liked it that way. Homes were permanent. They set lives and futures in cobblestone and trapped spirits in gated properties, keeping just about anything and everything tethered under the farce of security. Homes make paraffin casings around dragonfly wings and turn footprints to concrete. So you never had one, and you never wanted one. Ezra had found you amusing. You had found him to be better company than just yourself. So with great reluctance, you established a partnership. Not one forged in steel or bronze but something still fleeting, its true meaning always escaping your lips like a forgotten thought. It’s too much work to try and think about it anyway.

You had let him invite you to reside in his tent. It took coaxing, required copious amounts of golden honey spilling from Ezra’s tongue to get you to tenaciously stick to him, but you were no match for his silver tongue. He did everything he could to assure that this wasn’t a habitat, but merely a shelter - a thing that could be taken down and built back up somewhere else, anywhere you wanted. So you had obliged. He let you take the cot closest to the zipper door; you liked being closer to the exit, just a rotation away from being back on your feet. He tries to let you truly feel like if you wanted to escape, wanted to elope with liberty and run away from the loose bonds of the canopy, you could.

Three weeks of sleeping adjacent to him and you still don’t want to.

Ezra is used to temporary relationships. He has done his fair share of companion hopping, although he wasn’t really making an effort to do so. It scares him a little - why can’t he make anyone stay, make anything last? Partners passed him by, either to traverse on their lonesome or to stay with that greedy man in the eternal sky. Teams disbanded around him like glass castles shattering in his wake. Ezra, whether he liked it or not, was accustomed to transience.

He is not, however, accustomed to fearing that sharp brevity. Ezra is constantly on his toes around you, frequently wondering if he’s pushing you away or pulling you closer. You aren’t skittish, don’t constantly question everything he says or get offended by the sound of his voice, but he’s still scared of losing you. Every time he looks into your eyes he sees wonder, a certain fascination with life that he tries so hard to match because he wants to find things as beautiful as you do. As beautiful as you are. He wants to mis-quote your favorite novels that you force him to read so that you’ll scold him so affectionately and tell him that perhaps he had garnered a little brain damage from his previous escapades. He wants to trip over tree roots that have herniated through the soil so you can laugh at him, maybe lay there on the grass with him for a little bit. Just a little bit.

In your own mind, you are guarded. You try your very best not to get too personal, too deep, too much. Because you don’t like it when people can see your flushed, bloody insides. You just know that the moment you open your chest, someone will steal your heart right out of your rib cage and like the pass of a hummingbird, all of your secrets will be free to float in the breeze like the ashes of your lost quintessence; it’ll all be gone and then you’ll really be empty. So how could you ever know what you mean to Ezra?

He knows what a truly locked up person looks like. He’s spent hundreds of cycles with people that don’t make a noise. He’s sat in bustling pods of people and felt like the only man in the room, like solitary confinement for his mind. No, you are not some warning-covered steel box, padlocked and duct-taped and glued shut so that even if he’s sitting right next to you, he’ll have nothing more than his own voice bounce to off of your walls and fly right back to him. You’re a music box, a gold-trimmed heart-shaped sound bottle, and he learns that if he winds you up the right way, you’ll sing so pretty for him.

He has spent so long talking, nonsensically making those arbitrary noises burst out of his throat until they lose all meaning, but finally, for the first time in so fucking long, Ezra gets to listen.

He listens to you tell him you think his hair is stupid and that sometimes he smells bad. He listens to you lament about barren dig-sites and wasted time, about how it’s so fucking hot in your suit. He listens to you fantasize about touching the trees, burying your face in your flowers and squeezing the moss in your hands. About drowning in the river so that your body is filled with the water and then rolling in the sand so that it all sticks to you and you have to dive back in to clean off. About feeling something.

Sometimes, Ezra just wants to hear something other than his own voice. And you’re the cold towel to his inflamed skin, refreshing and addictive. You’re much braver than you think, so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, because for once, Ezra can talk into the forest and know that there’s someone to listen besides the leaves. He doesn’t feel alone.

Every night, when the moon has turned its back on the narcissistic Sun and opened its arms to the thousands of other stars, each just a prick of light but understanding of their place in the tapestry of the darkness, the two of you retire to that tent. You both redress into comfortable clothes, backs turned on each other under the guise of respect, and climb into your respective cots. Ezra would turn off that shitty lantern that illuminated the enclosure, and your shadows would dissipate into the darkness.

Except Ezra’s shadows don’t disappear; they hide. They blend into the black and mold into one man-engulfing untamable beast to possess Ezra’s throat. And they manifest again in his mind. They poison that movie that plays once you slip consciousness, instills fear into his bone marrow until he doesn’t feel safe in his own body, his own thoughts.

These slumber illusions haunt Ezra. His right arm waves at him in his sleep, the souls to which he was the conduit bridging life and death haunt his diaphragm with toothy grins to mock him, screeching into his cavities. They remind him that he was never really alone because he has the suffocating embrace of those spirits that are sewn so tight to his eyelids. Every night he somehow manages to pull himself from the darkness only for his own demons to pull him back by the throat. He is always oscillating between consciousness and unconsciousness, being tossed around like a helpless rag with no hope of liberation. Nothing scares him more than his own thoughts.

And you know. You know all of it. How could you not? You were born a tumbleweed, wandering across desolation, so of course you’re a light sleeper. And you can hear Ezra’s choked cries, his tossing and turning as he drains himself of any sense of safety. But this man is a stranger to you. He is just a person you reside with, talk to all the time, nudge gently and tease and smile with. He is just the person that you wake up wanting to see, whose attention you always crave. A stranger.

So every night you turn your body to face the zipper of the tent and pretend that you can’t hear him cry. Pretend that you don’t sometimes cry with him. A pretty lavender lie that smells sweet, tastes sweeter.

You, in your cowardice, let him destroy himself. Watch as the bags under his eyes get bigger and greyer and the strings holding his shoulders up lose their tension.

Ezra, in his flawed cratered embodiment, is only human. And he had gone so long without holding anyone, without being held. He knows what he wants, knows who he wants. But he also knows how jittery you are, how fluttery your heart is, and he doesn’t want to approach it too fast lest he startle you and you fly off into the stars. But he can’t keep doing this, can’t live with himself when he knows he’s not the one in control but those horned, slimy creatures that claw at his maxilla with their venomous grins.

The lights are out in the tent per usual, so Ezra can’t really see you. His careful eyes can trace the outline of the curves of your body - or is it that his delusional eyes are envisioning some arbitrary glow around you, convincing him that what he’s seeing is real? Reality is a concept with which he is no longer familiar.

You, laying in your cot, decide that you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t stand to let this intruder of your life break you down the way he is without even trying. How dare he look into you, how dare he listen to you without passing judgement, how fucking dare he make you feel like a flower in bloom?

Ezra hears your breaths - they’re uneven. You haven’t gone to sleep. What are you waiting for?

“Ezra?” you practically squeak into the void. His ears perk up immediately; your cotton candy voice is enticing to him, flossing its way through his veins.

“What are you doing up, birdie?” Ezra asks softly, the air of his lungs floating on top of his words. He doesn’t mean to keep you awake, but he isn’t mad that you are. It’s stimulating his nerves enough to keep himself awake, and that’s something he probably won’t ever be able to repay you for.

“I-um….” Shit. You hadn’t expected to get this far. What would you say to him? How could you tell him that you wanted to help cleanse him, that you wanted to grovel in lime-coated thumb tacks with him and absorb his pain into your tissue paper skin? “I can’t sleep.”

Not a lie. Ezra knows you mean it. He just doesn’t know why.

“Well that won’t suffice,” he decides, outstretching his left arm blindly off the edge of his cot until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for: that goddamn lantern. With a little more fumbling, a weak but good enough orange glow is emitted on the floor between the two of you. You both catch each other’s pitiful gaze. You want to take care of each other, want to shield each other from the red sprites that nip angrily at each other’s hearts. Ezra holds his left arm out to you, tentatively. He’s never been more unsure in his life. He watches you glance at his arm, and then quickly to the side. You’re trying to decide if you’ll let him add another tether to you. If you’ll let him become something sewed so tight to your bleeding skin that to leave would rip you apart.

You slowly get up and walk over to his cot.

Ezra lets out a soft breath and his lips turn to a soft smile. He’s soft.

“C’mere, dandelion” he mumbles to you, and he hasn’t missed his right arm so much as in this moment. He wants to hold you properly, wants to keep you as close to him as possible. You’re hesitant, and he can tell. You’ve never been this close to him before, and you want to savor it. When your head finally touches his shoulder, it’s like a catalyst ignites underneath the two of you. You mold into each other the way the gods intended, like lake water seeping into the smallest of crevices of an empty river bed. Like the opposing poles of two magnets, like a key penetrating a lock. Like you were made for each other. Your arms immediately wrap around him, his neck now a fixture of your body, and his arm leads you to lay down on the cot. Without words, without that candid discourse that Ezra was so fond of, his face is buried into the warmth of your chest and he feels like you’ve cast an ethereal shield around him.

Ezra doesn’t need to hold you tight because you’re holding him tighter, like you’re trying to cling to something invisible and foreign before it can even think to leave you. Before it realizes that it doesn’t want you. Don’t leave. He can feel you breathe him in, face smashed against his wild hair, and he can’t blame you because he’s breathing you in too.

“Sweetheart-” he breathes, fanning against your skin in a way that sends a deep shiver down your spine and shakes your shoulders.

“Shh.” And for once in his cursed life, he’s speechless. There’s so much, too much that he wants to say to you, but his mind is shouting all of it at him at once and he doesn’t even know where to start. So he shuts the fuck up. He feels you. He feels your heat melt him until he can barely control his own muscles because they’ve gone limp, unable to perform a single contraction because his fibers are relaxed, are at peace.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

When Ezra wakes, you’re still sweet and motionless around him. The lamp was still on, still shining pathetically on the ground. He doesn’t feel the need to look around or squeeze his lids closed in an attempt to wring the bad rest out of him.

Rest?

He thinks fucking hard. When had he woken up last night? When had his banshees infiltrated his thoughts and cried into the void of his packed mind? All he can recall are caramel dreams, whipped cream clouds and berry trampolines for him to jump high into the cotton candy sky. He thinks he might like it that way. Maybe every night can be like that, every morning can feel this transcendent.

He hears you moan quietly as you stir not long after him, breaths shuddering on their way out of your nose as you slowly come to your senses.

“Good morning, birdie,” Ezra finally says. He doesn’t know what to say to you, what he can say to you, without making you flip a switch and realize that it’s all a mistake, that he is a mistake. His eardrums smile as your sleepy whining settles.

“Morning, Ezra,” you whisper, throat not ready to talk yet. It’s okay; you’d rather hear him talk to you anyway.

“Did you…were you able to achieve some sort of comfort?” Ezra asks. For a second you’re confused until you remember what you’d told him last night, and you realize that you’re holding him the same way you were when you’d gone to sleep. He hadn’t woken up.

“Yeah, Ezra,” you finally say after letting yourself simmer in the silence for a second. “Thank you.”

He smiles wide against your skin, the blunt tip of his excitement the battering ram that beats against his racing heart. He’s given you something worthy of your gratefulness, and the feeling of being worthy light his chest with blue flames.

“It’s not my intention to blow you away, dandelion,” Ezra says, his nerves manifesting into his characteristic breathy laughs, “but I can’t deny how direly I want to just touch you.” You feel the air get knocked out of you as your diaphragm begins to spasm; what is he asking? You’ve thought about it before; god, of course you’ve thought about it before. To lay back as you let him study you, memorize you and then let you do the same. Analyze the sculpted marble of his body to remind yourself why you love it so much.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, a secret told to the wind, but Ezra hears you. Ezra always hears you.

So Ezra’s fingers begin to wander along your skin. He wants to map out the scars on your body, wants to learn the shape of you so intimately that he could remodel you if he wanted to. He wants to know your body the way he knows when you’re disappointed or frustrated or amazed or confused. He wants to just know.

You feel the calloused pads of Ezra’s fingers put a little pressure onto that dip of your thoracic vertebrae, draw circles above your hip right under the fabric of your sweatshirt, caress your shoulder. He’s slowly exposing your skin to the humid chill of the dank enclosure, carefully making your top cover less and less of you, but you’ve never felt warmer.

As Ezra’s mind begins to really warm up and the cogs begin to grease themselves, his words begin to flow out the way you’re used to. The way you’ve learned to love.

“Sweetheart, I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks and now they’re gone,” he blurts. Fuck. His hand stutters against the small of your back. He’s done it now, he’s really gone and blown it, because now you know he’s fucking broken and you’re smart enough to know when to avoid damaged goods. You have to know that if you were to take your hands and try and feel him you’d just get bumps and ridges and cracks. But Ezra is selfish, can’t help himself or his thoughts, so he keeps rambling. “It is not my intention to come off as presumptuous, but I just know it’s because of you. How did you do that, birdie? You never told me you were sent to me as a dreamcatcher.”

You can’t help but smile into his scalp a little at his words. You didn’t mind taking all of his bad dreams and refracting them far away into the space between the stars for him. A light, breathy laugh rolls off your tongue like a huff, because fuck, if you were going to be embroidered to something it might as well be him.

Your breath hitches again as the back of his hand runs flat along your stomach. It travels back around and up to the nape of your neck, tracing your shoulders and then over to your clavicles, paying close attention to the dips. You can’t help but wonder if this means as much to him as it does to you; it means everything to you.

“You’re right. I’ve been holding out on you all this time,” you say, and he can hear you smile through the roses of your words. He slowly and with purpose lifts his head from your embrace so that he can look up at you, maybe even catch a glimpse of that pretty grin of yours and burn it onto his lenses.

“I’m not confident that you’ll ever know how fortuitous I was the day I met you.” Ezra’s voice is low as he speaks, his drawl stretching and fraying the ends of his words, and you soak in every last syllable. You soak in the meaning of his words. He feels lucky to have you.

You look down at him, bringing a hand to run through his hair. That stupid blonde streak snatches your attention for a moment and you thumb at the strands. You want to tease him about it, mock him a little, but you don’t. The moon marine in your arms holds so much unbridled beauty, and it’s all yours to look at.

Ezra is all yours to look at.

Ezra’s hand travels up to your face, cupping your cheek while his thumb toys with the corner of your mouth in a way that makes you bite your lip through a smile. Throwing all caution to the wind, you turn your head and press a shy kiss to the heel of his palm. Ezra’s skin burns where you’ve sanctified him. His hand begins to crave your touch in other ways, he is craving something more from you, but he knows he does far too much taking. He’s already taken so much from you, has already stolen so many moments from you out of sheer gluttony, but it’s not always his fault because you’re so giving. He knows you were a little hollow from the start, knows you were a little frayed in the first place, but still you share your thoughts and companionship with him because whether you know it or not, you’re a little taken by this space mutineer. If you fled this little thing you’ve built with him, you’d be leaving the prettiest parts of yourself behind for him to keep taking care of the way a mother makes her son’s bed after he leaves for college because what if you want to come back?

But you haven’t left, haven’t abandoned him and in turn, yourself. You’re right here, letting him bask in your reverent lavender radiation, and as he looks at how you’re giving off your own intrinsic glow because the shitty orange light on the ground isn’t enough, he knows he hasn’t earned it. He doesn’t think this is a very fair transaction at all, but he’s too selfish to stop you from paying a little extra. You’ll let him keep the change.

Ezra wordlessly lifts his head, nosing at your wrist so that you’ll bring it lower and let him kiss the delicate skin there. He looks up at you with wide, eager eyes of adoration. His feelings for you are beginning to bubble underneath the surface of his silk-lined thoughts and he is willing them to stay at that low simmer because he doesn’t want to think about anything except how fucking gorgeous you look in the lamplight.

“I’m growing rather fond of the way you feel against me,” Ezra finally says. Everything is so foreign now, so new, so he tries to do the one thing you both know, the one routine you can both dance without needing to think about it: talking.

“I like it too Ezra,” you giggle. Not a long, flittery one, but a pass of air with a note under it. You’re a little nervous too.

“I reckon I could get accustomed to this,” he whispers. Your lip betrays you, curling itself to reveal your reply before you even say it. Your teeth capture your lower lip for the act of treason, but it’s too late. “But I’d just hate it if I made you feel like you’re bearing my baggage.”

“Ezra, you don’t have crippling baggage,” you insist. What is this man talking about? You were the one with issues. You were the one that had to be convinced to stay with him, you were the one that insisted on the right cot, you were the real coward here. You were broken. “Everyone has their demons. There is so much more inside of you. You’re so full.”

Ezra’s eyes go a little wide at your words. You didn’t think he was half a man? Some incomplete mosaic that would never find his missing pieces?

“You flatter me,” he chuckles; no, he giggles.

“Well…I just figured there’s no way a broken man could handle his broken partner the way you deal with me.” His expression melts into something more than pity and less than ignorance - confusion. The tap in Ezra’s tongue pops loose and his words begin to cascade from his lips like some majestic phenomenon, like holy water spraying the filth off of your brow.

“I need you to look at me, firefly.” His voice is more stern now, his words more articulate as he shifts up the bed slightly so that he’s eye level with you. He’s still on his side, his left hand is still gripping the flesh at your hip. “I don’t think you’ll ever truly comprehend how much you’ve done for me these past cycles, but this life is quiet and toilsome. You’re capable of recognizing beauty in things I wouldn’t have even taken note of in the first place, and I hang onto your every utterance whether you’re aware or not. It’s easy for me to sit here and tell you how bad I always want you because you fill my thoughts, pretty dandelion. And if someone came here and regurgitated your exact words to me, it still wouldn’t hold a candle to the way you sing when you wonder out loud. I don’t need to ‘deal’ with you, sweet rose. I want you.”

Your lip quivers a little; you know Ezra likes talking to you, he’s told you before. But you couldn’t help but assume Ezra just likes talking, period. That he liked having you around about as much as he’d enjoy the company of any other talker. To think that someone wants you, your passions and afterthoughts and pondering notions, meant more than anything you could articulate.

“Ezra-” you start, but you cut yourself off. You want to let his words turn into condensation on your skin, to form little rain clouds above your head so that they pour back down on you in delicate drops. You want to let him linger, to sit and hang above you like the sky hangs above the ocean.

You look straight at him, deep into his inquiring brown eyes as you both begin to breathe the same air, scents mingling between you like the heat between two stars. His nose is right up against yours and you can feel his lashes caress your cheekbone. He’s so close, but you want him closer, need him to move his hand or blink his eyes or do something, because you can’t take the nothingness anymore when you’ve got everything pressed right up against your face.

Ezra decides he wants one last thing from you.

“My rose, I don’t want to ask too much of you, but I suppose if that were true I wouldn’t have invited you to stay with me anyway. In the tent, of course. Not the cot.” Fuck, what was he saying? He lets out a soft laugh as he tries to reorganize his thoughts, a blushing mess under your gaze because he’s so used to knowing exactly how to get what he wants, but he’s really pushing your boundaries and bending your fence posts now. You’re turning him into a man who fumbles, a man who doesn’t always have to know what he’s about to say, and he doesn’t mind being a little less talk around you and a lot more touch.

Suddenly, he’s reminded of what he wanted to ask you.

“Sweet creature, could I kiss you?”

You don’t miss a beat in this soft ballad you’re playing with him, letting out a gentle “yeah, Ezra.”

You don’t like homes, don’t like to be told that you’re forever nailed to walls and wood. But maybe, as Ezra’s scruffy chin leans up to slot his lips against yours, you could build a tent in him. Maybe this leaky soul was your permanent, your unyielding, your perpetual.

As Ezra tilts his head towards you with a soft moan so he can kiss you the way you deserve, speak to you through the blinding sensation of his mouth telling you how he wants you, needs you, loves you, without using a single word, he is confident that his hollow cavities are beginning to be filled by your amber essence. He can tell you’re letting yourself finally take root in him, clearing out the wretched foliage so that you can curl up in the meadow of his soul and rest your bones within him.

Yeah.

You’re home.

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#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect x reader #angst #sleepy prompts #pedro pascal #fluff #this was for what?#this was supposed to be so short #so quick #i spent the whole entire day writing this #does it make sense?#of course not #does it ever?#same answer #not gonna ask anymore of these requests #clearly I don't know how to control myself sksdfjgf

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