#it cropped so ugly....help

[cobgen]

[tomboyyyaoi]

nightlight

[sublimitymp3]

Do you, brother?

Pairing ✵ Aegon Targaryen/Younger sister!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, swearing, smut (Dub-con, p in v, fingering, choking, slight breeding kink), mentions of death, mentions of child loss, descriptions of birth, and heavy themes

Word count ✵ 2.6k

Summary ✵ The death of your son leaves behind a shadow upon everything, and after an overwhelming funeral procession for him, your evasive brother finally comes to you in the night.

Jaehaerys

Your little boy. Jae-hae-rys. The syllables roll off your tongue in a smooth manner, as they always have done. Sweet Jaehaerys. The very thought of the name conjures memories in your mind of the day you labored him and his twin into the world, screaming and writhing in pain as you felt as though you were being torn apart at the seams. He was a small, splotchy babe, who exited you covered in blood and wailing and squirming in the maester's arms. But even through your delirium and searing pain, you knew then what love was.

He was a precocious boy, eager to learn and to explore the world. "He has the makings of a very fine king," you recall your grandfather telling you once. The thought of Jaehaerys on that throne made your stomach feel uneasy, and the words loomed over you, lingering in the back of your mind and refusing to leave.

Even now it still lingers.

The once dreadful notion has been reduced to a silly daydream, for Jaehaerys will never be king. He will never grow, never explore the world, never ride his dragon, and you will never cradle him in your arms again.

It feels wrong to carry on. It feels wrong to do much of anything with the knowledge that your sweet Jaehaerys will exist only in memory now. Your mother tries to console you, to hug you in her cold arms, but you do not want her now. After all, what does she know about losing a child? The funeral procession your grandfather insisted on felt even more wrong than anything else.

Your son, the martyr.

Hundreds of the smallfolk clambered over each other to catch a glimpse of your little boy, and you. Your tears bought their sympathy and a new resentment for Rhaenyra, but it mattered little to you. They had sewn his head back on, you saw. It was an ugly sight, where black thread met severed skin.

Jaehaerys

How you longed to climb over to the cart carrying his body just so you could hold your boy one last time, but your mother's steadying and sobering grip on your knee kept you from doing so. "Deepest sympathies, my queen!" "Curse Rhaenyra!" "We love you, our queen!" Their shouts of support felt more like a ringing in your ear than anything. You didn't want this. You only wanted everything to be quiet.

You had a headache and felt nothing but exhaustion, and you couldn't even bring yourself to weep any longer. It was as if you were wrung dry. You cursed under your breath at the seemingly endless flights of stairs in the Red Keep, for all you wanted to do was to go and lay in bed. But then you saw him. First, you saw his hair, hair much like yours, only it was messily cropped short. Next was his eyes, violet in color and mirrors of your own. The scowl upon his handsome face, well, you didn't care for it, but you couldn't pry your eyes away. You found yourselves gawking at each other on the stairwell, and only then did you remember how much Jaehaerys looked like Aegon.

"Your grace, I-" Is all you can say before Aegon quickly turns away from you and hurries down the steps. You stand there, watching as the head of silver hair swiftly disappears from your line of sight. You snap your mouth close, pressing your lips into a firm line and continuing up the stairs. 'Foolish girl, when has he ever confronted anything in his life?' you cannot help but think.

You don't see your husband for around two weeks. Fleeting glimpses in the hallways, mentions of him from your mother, and murmurs about the king from the courtiers are all you have of him during that time.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you try to banish all thoughts of him from your mind to get some semblance of much-needed sleep. The nights seemed so long and torturous now, and yet you hardly could find sleep no matter what you did. Tonight was the first night in what seemed like centuries that you finally felt tired, and you wasted no time settling into bed to drift into a slumber.

You dream odd things, nonsensical things you'll forget when you wake, mostly. And even more odd, you begin to dream of Aegon. Of his strangely soft hands on you, of him pushing your nightdress up to your hips, and of him maneuvering you onto your back. It feels real, but you know it isn't. He won't come near you, no, not now. But even your mind begins to suggest otherwise.

With an irritated whine, you feel yourself being pulled from your sleep. It is only when you open your eyes to curse at what you assumed was a maid disturbing you, that your assumptions are quickly proven wrong.

Aegon is on top of you, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. Salty, hot tears drip from him onto your face, and his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can question him. You must make a face unwittingly, for he begins to speak,

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's just me...just me," Aegon soothes, and you smell the wine on his warm breath. He's drunk. Or at the very least near drunk. "I-I am sorry, sorry for you, sorry for our boy. Oh, my poor son," his words are ever so slightly slurred, and he retracts himself to sit on the edge of the bed and weep in his drunken stupor.

You sit up, a bit startled to discover your nightgown bunched up by your hips. Your smallclothes were even pulled down a bit, but not fully. You realize now what he was attempting to do, and you can only sit in a tense silence with him. "He was my son too, you know," he mumbles like a petulant child, once he catches a glimpse of your resentful face.

"I grieve him just as much as you, mayhaps even more. He was my heir, my only heir," his words linger in the stagnant air, not sitting well with you. His gaze unnerves you even more, staring at you expectantly. The implications in his voice are clear to you; he means to beget another heir.

"Take another wife then, I am tired," The brazen words escape you (before you can think) in a whisper, and you lay back down, wasting no time to turn your back to him. "I don't want to again, I can't again. No more, Aegon." and you close your eyes, letting your tears roll down the side of the face.

You refuse to subject yourself to it all over again. To the aches, the uncomfortable swell of your belly, and the terrible pain birth brought. You know what it will all end in. It's a deep knowledge that has burrowed itself between your bones, embedded itself in your brain, and wrapped around your heart.

The Stranger will come for you all, surely.

The bed dips again as he shifts himself closer to you, and he grabs your shoulder in a bruising grip to turn you onto your back. His face gets so close to yours that the tip of his nose nudges your own, and you feel his warm breath fanning against your lips.

"I wasn't asking what you thought of it. You're my wife, my little sister. You were born for me to have. A king needs an heir, surely you understand that? You're not a stupid girl," he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, mockingly, almost.

He manages to wedge himself between your thighs, and you feel his wandering fingers pull down your smallclothes. "Aegon-" "Don't say a word, don't say a damn thing," he interrupts, irritated by your unwilling mood. "Wouldn't it be nice to have another little babe to rock in your arms? Hm? We'll make more, yes? Enough to fill this fucking castle," Aegon grunts, pushing his fingers past your folds. A whine involuntarily escapes you at the invasive feeling, and even more so as he pumps his fingers in and out.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

You feel your body give into his ministrations and get wet. 'Betrayal,' you think. A pleased hum escapes from him as you leak onto his fingers, and you feel your cheeks burn with shame. This isn't right. No, no after what has happened.

"You weep down here too, did you know, sweet sister?" He mumbles, pulling his fingers out of you just to drag them along your dripping folds. A shiver runs up your spine at his actions, forcing you to bite your tongue to muffle any noises. You don't want him to hear you. You don't want to give him that satisfaction.

He fully retracts his fingers, and you know what is next. He undresses himself quickly, untying his breeches and tunic with a practiced speed before pulling your nightdress off of you, leaving you vulnerable and cold. He chuckles at your little shivers and the way you wrap your arms around yourself protectively. "Shh, do not worry, you'll be warm soon enough," he laughs as if this is a lighthearted moment between two lovers. Your stomach churns slightly.

"You're so beautiful, you know. I've never thought otherwise. So pretty like this, all for me," he whispers against the shell of your ear as he lines himself up with your cunt.

The burning stretch of the intrusion is what you feel first. It has been long since he bedded you, and your body had forgotten the feel of him. "F-Fuck, how are you so tight? Like you're trying to squeeze me to death," he groans against your neck, before suckling bruises into your soft skin. He bottoms out completely, and you feel his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

It's overwhelming for you. It's too much. You close your eyes and let your mind drift to happier days. Days long before you called Aegon husband, days when you would play with your sister by your mother's skirts. Days when the most daunting task was getting out of bed or letting the maids bathe you. It almost brings a smile to your face. Almost.

Your blissful daydreams and nostalgia are interrupted by Aegon gently slapping your cheek repeatedly, rudely reminding you of where you are now. "Hey, hello, where are you? Look at me, for fucks sake," he grumbles, slowing his thrusts you only now are noticing. He grips your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his familiar violet eyes.

It's cruel to have to stare into your own eyes while this happens, you think.

"Don't do that again. Think of me," he whispers against your lips, his voice a bit shaky and heavy with lust. "Only me, and this."

His thrusts resume, and his lips are soon pressed against yours. He kisses you with a greedy, bruising force as if he's trying to devour you whole.

"Messy girl," he muses as he wipes drool off your chin with his thumb, and the action is oddly tender to you. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your sweet spot, making your mind turn to mush and your legs turn to jelly.

You hate how Aegon has this talent to make your resolve slip with only a few touches and kisses. You could be upset with him for weeks on end, and yet all he had to do was hold you down and you'd soon forget whatever grievance you held against him.

"A-Aegon, brother, please-" you whine, even more so as he maneuvers your knees to press against your chest. He holds you down like this and the new angle allows him to push further into you. The sound of skin against skin reverberates in your chambers around you as he drives into you at a faster pace.

"Stay still, stay still. Quit squirming, don't you trust me, sweet girl?" He huffed, still irked by your light resistance. His hand reaches back down to your weeping cunt, and his thumb rubs gentle circles into your bud. The added stimulation makes you cry out with overwhelming pleasure, and you feel like your very bones are gyrating.

"There we go," he smirks, dragging out his words. He's found the combination that makes you fall apart around him and he finds it satisfying. "You like that, don't you? 'Course you do, sweet girl. You were made for me, made to take my cock and bear my children. You were born to be mine. Nothing more, nothing less," He groans, his own peak beginning to build up.

His words ignite a fire in your belly, and it feels so wrong. His words are mocking, demeaning even, and on any other given day and situation you'd have retorted and isolated yourself from him until you calmed down. But this night was not simply any other night. His words and his movements bring you closer and closer to the edge, and the coil in your belly tightens up as it prepares to snap.

"Aegon, gods, keep going, please don't stop-" you moan, lost now in the bliss of it all. You selfishly buck your hips against his, desperate for your own impending release.

"I got you, pretty girl. Go on, let go for me, sweet sister," and with his words, the tightly wound coil in you snaps. It is a white-hot pleasure that wracks through your body, and you feel as though you are floating.

You come to when you feel Aegon increasing the pace of his already rough thrusts. He is close, you can tell. You have no strength to tell him to pull out, to beg him not to finish inside. He's fucked you too good for that. Maybe that was his plan after all, you think.

"F-Fuck, I'm so close, sweetling. I'll fill you up, make sure you're nice and full with my seed. In nine moons time, we'll have another little boy, hm? Another silver-haired beauty," he pants, before his grip that still pushes your knees against your chest tightens. He brings one hand to squeeze around your throat, and you feel his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. There will be a bruise there in the morning, no doubt.

His movements are rough and fast as he chases his release, and soon, his steady pace falters and his hips stutter to a halt. "Gods be good," he moans, slumping over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Spurts of his warm and sticky seed coat your velvety walls, a familiar feeling. Surely you will be with child by the next month.

Exhaustion is what you feel. Exhaustion, and a pang of sadness in your heart. Another babe you will have to labor into the world, another pawn in this war. Another victim of this needless bloodshed, as brother and sister tear each other apart.

Aegon gently kisses your lips, rubbing your stomach with his hand, no doubt imagining you are pregnant already. "I love you, I really do." He whispers, holding you close and breaking you from those thoughts of impending doom.

Violet eyes meet violet eyes, and you gaze upon his features that are not dissimilar to your own. The very same blood that runs through you, runs through him. The same blood that ran through your son, you think. You do not know what to make of his drunken declaration, and it is like your body speaks for you then;

"Do you, brother?"

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[ja3yun]

Guilty as Sin | P.SH

ceo!sunghoon x assistant!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, desk sex, doggy, dom!hoon, choking, petnames (slut, good girl), slight dub con (hoon doesn't know what she's doing on the phone), age gap (reader is 22 and hoon is 27), not proof read, its not great tbh, anything else lmk! w.c: 3.8k synopsis: with your roommate gone for the evening, it is the perfect opportunity to let loose and think about a certain ceo while you fulfil your deepest desires. a/n: hi! this is ofc based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. just a heads up, the italics are her fantasy and straight text is what is happening in the real world. i tried to make it as clear as possible but sorry if its confusing near the end! this is just a little someting I wrote quickly (who would have guessed I could write a wc under 10k lmao). i hope you like it and as always feedback, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated.

part 2

Placing her trusted Charlotte Tilbury lipstick in her bag, your best friend and roommate of three years, Jimin, is finally ready to go out for the night. She looks glamorous from head to toe, effortlessly exuding the confidence and allure of a world-class supermodel.

Her hair cascades in loose waves, artfully swept over one shoulder, highlighting her elegant neck and perfectly styled tresses. Her tanned skin glows under the soft lighting, accentuating the contrast with her white spaghetti strap crop top, which subtly showcases her toned midriff. Her black suede shorts hug her figure, adding a touch of sophistication and edge to her ensemble. Strappy heels elongate her legs, making her look even more statuesque.

As Jimin adjusts her earrings, you can't help but admire her impeccable sense of style and grace. Her makeup is flawlessly applied, with a hint of shimmer on her eyelids and a bold, dark red lip that makes her look like she’s stepped straight out of a DAZED magazine.

In stark contrast, you are nestled comfortably on the couch in your cherry pink pyjamas, lost in the pages of "King of Pride." The soft fabric of your pyjamas provides a comforting embrace, and your hair is casually pulled back in a loose ponytail. Your face is free of makeup, showcasing your natural beauty and the relaxed ease of someone enjoying a quiet evening, just you, a glass of wine, and the much-needed company of Kai Young.

“Okay, how do I look?” Jimin turns to you, plastering on a big smile, extending her arms so you can get a full glimpse of her carefully orchestrated outfit.

Holding your place in your book with your thumb, you pretend to inspect her harshly, knowing anything less would be deemed as not caring - at least in the eyes of your best friend. “I think…you look like the prettiest girl in the room, no, the world” you compliment her earnestly.

Tutting, she rolls her eyes. “You and Jaeyun say the same thing every time,” she giggles, enjoying the compliment despite it being a secret mantra you and her boyfriend have conjured up to keep her happy. Jimin has a certain way she likes to be spoken to and if it isn’t the most dramatic, complimentary words you can muster, you might as well call her an ugly hag who cracks mirrors.

Jaeyun and you have always rated her an unequivocal one hundred out of ten.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come?” Jimin asks for the fifth time in three hours. “Heeseung will be there, you know he has a bit of a crush on you.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully, clearly enjoying how your face flushes at mentioning his name. Heeseung is handsome, no doubt about it, but he isn’t the man you would rush out the door for.

“I promise, I am quite happy here with my rich soon-to-be CEO and a glass of Pino,” you wave her off and open your book again, digging back into the chapter she pulled you from.To be honest, it’s not entirely a fib; you do want to stay in and enjoy a glass of wine, though your plans are slightly more elaborate than they seem—details she doesn’t need to know about.

“Well, don’t wait up. I’m planning to stay at Jaeyun’s afterwards,” she announces with a gleeful smile. Her infectious joy and the glimmer in her eyes catch the warm light from the lamp beside you, casting a gentle glow over the room.

As she gives a final twirl and heads out the door, leaving the apartment with a high-pitched goodbye, you wait to hear the faint turn of her key in the lock. Once you detect that reassuring click, signalling her definitive departure, you wedge your bookmark in the novel and place it on the side table, promising yourself that you will return to it later; you have another CEO to attend to.

Grasping your glass of crisp wine and your phone, you make your way to your bedroom. The room is softly lit, with fairy lights casting a warm, ambient glow. You place your wine on the nightstand, sitting softly on your bed as you unlock your phone.

A sigh leaves your wine-tainted lips as you open up Instagram, going straight to a certain someone’s page. The same person that has left you so needy all day that you have been counting down the minutes and seconds until you get some alone time.

Park Sunghoon. 

Your boss, Park Sunghoon, who gave you a job as his assistant straight out of Grad school after attending one of his special lectures, the one who has shown you the ropes of the Marketing world and introduced you to important contacts to help you in the future, and the one who makes it insanely difficult to concentrate in any board or business meeting because of how insanely attractive he is.

Sunghoon is a gift from the gods: tall, wealthy, extraordinarily handsome, and incredibly hard to resist. He is admirable and focused, commanding a room in a way you wish he would with you, hoping that the passion and energy he has for the business could somehow translate into a more intimate setting, with you on the receiving end. He has worked tirelessly to build his company from rags to riches, becoming the youngest, highest-grossing CEO in the country, making every Forbes 30 Under 30 list there is. You are immensely grateful for the opportunity to work as his assistant.

That is why what you are about to do feels like a betrayal. Your heart tells you this is wrong, embarking on sinful acts such as this, but it also convinces you that thoughts inside your mind aren’t anything to feel ashamed about, as long as you look and never touch.

And so far, you haven’t ever laid a finger on him, much to your disdain. There have been times when all you can think about is pouncing on him while he sits at his desk, imagining bouncing on his cock until you’re high off his cum and kisses. You envision his white shirts and black ties discarded, your lips all over his toned chest and stomach, hearing him moan your name as you make your way to suck his cock better than any of his socialite flings ever could.

If the assistant and CEO dynamic wasn’t enough to deter you from making your fantasies a reality, the class barrier would be your first hurdle. Sunghoon comes from a world of privilege and status, a realm of luxury and power. Despite your impressive academic achievements and the progress you’ve made in your career, there’s always an underlying awareness of the different worlds you inhabit. You’re 22 and an assistant just starting to work your way up and Sunghoon is a 27-year-old CEO of a multi-million dollar franchise.

You are nowhere near his level.

Yet, the allure of his presence is irresistible. His charisma and the subtle way he looks at you during meetings ignite a forbidden desire within you. The professionalism you maintain in the office is a fragile veneer, concealing the simmering tension and your hidden longing. Each day, you master the art of restraint, keeping your fantasies locked away, only to revisit them in the privacy of your room, where the boundaries of reality and imagination blur.

Scrolling through his Instagram, you hone in on one particular picture, your favourite among them all: his GQ CEO of the Year cover. Maybe it was because you were there when it was taken, seeing him switch poses, flicking his eyebrows up and smirking into the camera, his fingers gripping the edges of his desk as the photographer shouted praises intertwined with instructions. God, how you would do anything to be bent over that table and fucked to oblivion by the man.

You reach into your bedside drawer and retrieve the pretty pink dildo you ordered from Adam & Eve, the size mimicking what you imagine Sunghoon’s looks like: slim but not skinny, long and arched, with a large bell at the end. It’s so wrong to imagine what your boss’ dick looks like, never mind buying a toy specifically to fantasise about him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it—not when you’re cumming around it and screaming his name.

Position yourself comfortably, the soft sheets bunch up around you and close your eyes. The fantasy takes over, vivid and tantalising. You picture Sunghoon, his intense gaze locked on you, his hands rough yet tender as they roam your body. The thought of his voice, low and commanding, fills your mind, heightening your arousal.

And you get lost in the fantasy as you look at the picture illuminating your screen.

Pushing down your pyjama shorts, you discard them quickly, your cunt already greedy to be filled. You rub the dildo up and down your slick folds, gathering your natural lubricant as you look at Sunghoon’s stern face on your phone screen, remembering all the times he has reprimanded you for doing something wrong. You never fully took in the severity of the situation, your mind too lost in the lower octave of his tone and how badly you wished to be punished by him.

“Bend over. Now,” he says with venom lacing his tone, the words cutting through his quiet office.

You do as he says, leaning over the desk and hiking up your skirt, eagerly anticipating your retribution. The air is thick with tension as Sunghoon’s body looms close to you, teasing you even with just his presence. Your mind races as his hands situate themselves on your hips, pulling your ass back into him, the action causing your cunt to meet his bulge. The outline of his length protrudes through his Prada slacks, making your pussy ache all over him.

Leaning his body over yours so his chest is pressed firmly against your back, he ghosts his lips over your earlobe. “How many times do I need to tell you to do your job right?” His question is rhetorical, knowing that if you speak, you’ll get an even worse punishment.

His warm breath on your ear sends shivers down your spine, and you feel your core tighten in anticipation. His grip on your hips tightens as he slowly grinds against you, the friction of his bulge against your soaked panties making you whimper. The feeling of his hard cock pressing into you, even through the fabric is intoxicating, and you can’t help but arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. “So desperate for it. Such a needy little slut.”

Before you can respond, he straightens up, his hands leaving your hips, his warm grip now replaced with the cold lingering of want. Without warning, he brings his hand down on your ass with a sharp smack. The sensation is electric, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes you gasp, the sting of the spank sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his tone mocking. He doesn’t wait for an answer as his hand comes down again, harder this time, the sound of the impact echoing in the large office. The force makes you tremble, your skin tingling with the aftershock, your cunt leaking down your leg in sheer joy and agony.

“Yes, sir,” you manage to gasp, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and you feel his hand rub soothing circles over the spot he just spanked, the contrast of his gentle touch against the sting making your body crave more. He is giving you the perfect mixture of punishment and rest, somehow making you crave a spanking more than ever before despite your ass whispering pleas of ‘no more’

Another sharp smack lands on your other cheek, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your throat. The pain mingles with pleasure, your pussy throbbing with need. Each hit is harder than the last, and you can feel the heat rising in your skin, the stinging sensation turning into a delicious ache.

“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice dripping with seduction. “Do you want me to punish you properly?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply breathlessly, your body trembling with anticipation. These two words seem to be the only thing that can fall from your lips other than strangled moans and mewls of desire.

He spanks you again, the force making you lurch forward, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support, the hit vibrating all the way to your throbbing bud. The sharp sting reverberates through your body, intensifying the ache between your legs. You feel yourself getting wetter, your juices dripping down your thighs, hitting the Versace shoes that Sunghoon bought you for a work event.

“Look at you,” he taunts, his voice low and commanding. “So needy, so desperate. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

“No, sir,” you admit, your voice a whimper. “I need you.”

His hand comes down on your ass again, harder than before, and you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses. You can feel the slickness between your thighs increasing, naturally preparing yourself for what is to come.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing soothingly over your reddened skin. “Taking your punishment so well.”

He leans over you again, his lips brushing against your ear. “But we’re not done yet,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’m going to make sure you never forget this.”

With that, he draws back and gives another harsh slap, the impact of which causes you to squeal. The cadence of his spanking quickens, each slap sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your skin tingles with each hit, leading to a climax.

“Please, sir,” you beg, your voice trembling. “Please, I need to cum.”

He pauses, his hand resting on your ass. “You need to cum?” he repeats, his tone amused. “Just by my hand?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your body trembling with need. “Please, I’ve been a good girl, let me cum.”

He chuckles softly, his hand sliding between your thighs to feel your wetness. “You’re soaked,” he remarks, his fingers teasing your folds. “Such a needy little slut.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you, and you whimper as he teases your entrance with his fingers. “Don’t you want my cock?” he asks, his voice low and seductive. “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” His words are condescending, knowing that with a few more slaps you’ll be clenching around nothing, yet, he can’t stand to see you cum and it not be around his delicious cock.

“Yes, sir,” you moan, your body aching for his touch, for his dick to be stuffed deep inside you. To be honest, you want anything he will give you. “Please, fuck me.”

Unbuckling his belt and letting his black trousers and boxers fall to his ankles, he positions himself behind you, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you push back against him, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Patience,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. “I want to take my time with you.”

Finally wet enough to snuggly enter you, the dildo sinks into your cunt as you imagine him sinking in slowly, the wave of pleasure as you stretch around the faux shaft enough to send your head back into a frenzy.

He pushes in slowly, the stretch of his cock filling you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, the tip of his cock sliding past all of your sensitive spots, stimulating your nerves just the way you need him to. You feel every inch of him, the fullness making your body shiver with desire.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips harder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. The friction of his cock against your inner walls is intoxicating, and you can’t help but moan his name, the sound mingling with the rhythm of his movements.

“Sunghoon,” you gasp, your back contorting to fit him deeper, head thrown back as he bucks his hips at a steady, agonising pace. “Please, fuck me harder.”

Scoffing, he slows down, giving you the opposite of what you are needily begging for. “You think you deserve to make demands?” Sunghoon asks, his hands roaming along your back, fingers untucking your shirt and crawling up to your bare back. You’re lucky he let the slip of his name out of your mouth rather than his preferred nickname.

In truth, you don’t, constantly fucking up in your job to the point that it has come to this, but by god will you never get a single thing right if it means receiving this pleasure. Yet, right now, you need to yield, appeasing his every word.

“I don’t deserve it, Sir,” you admit, trying to fuck onto his cock faster. “But please, I’ll be so good if you do.”

Laughing, his large hand snakes around your neck and pulls you back roughly, bringing your head to rest on his shoulder as he fucks into you agonisingly slow yet sharp. His warm breath washes over your cheek as he smirks menacingly. “You’re already being a good girl, so what else will you do?”

“I’ll do my job properly, I’ll make sure I never disappoint you.” It’s not even the slightest bit embarrassing as you try your hardest to fuck yourself onto his cock, squeezing for extra friction as you bargain with him. All you need right now is to be pounded mercilessly by the man you crave the most.

Satisfied with your response, he finally obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and more intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. The pleasure builds with each movement, your body responding eagerly to his touch. You feel the tension coiling in your core, the edge of climax drawing closer with every thrust.

“Do you want to cum on your boss’ cock?” he asks mockingly, knowing your immediate answer. 

You struggle to give him an answer as his grip on your throat tightens, his digits pressing into your soft neck and cutting off your voicebox, yet somehow, you manage to squeak out a tiny ‘yes’, followed by a throat-ripping moan as he finds your sweet spot.

Suddenly, your phone rings as you move your dildo rapidly in and out of your squelching cunt, the toy now covered in your juices as both you and it work hard to reach that sweet release. Heaving heavily, you see the caller ID ring and your eyes widen, the name ‘Park Sunghoon’ flashing across your screen.

Idiotically, you answer, scared of the reprimand if you don’t, your boss never liking when you answer after more than three rings. Before you get the chance to speak, he is already blaring down the phone at you.

“Y/N, I need you to come in early tomorrow. There is a big meeting with Park Jongseong that we must prepare for,” he begins, tone borderline scolding but not so angry. “Someone forgot to put it in my diary.”

The subtle dig at you only heightens your feelings, the actual scolding you’re receiving meshing in beautifully with your fantasies. Your hand never stops the dildo from thrusting harshly into you, his actual voice much colder and deeper than the one you have in your mind, your body aching for each Sunghoon in its own way.

You stifle a moan but it still leaks through into the speaker, your climax imminent as your wrist quickens and legs spread, the muscles of your thighs and arms tightening with your actions.

“Cum for me, baby” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you cum around my cock.”

“Are you sick? Don’t come in tomorrow if you are, I have to fly to Japan on Thursday.” 

Each CEO blends into one another as you come undone, dropping the phone on your stomach and arching your back off the bed.

The words push you over the edge, and you cry out as the orgasm crashes over you, “Yes, Sir!” your body trembling with the force of it. You can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, the sensation driving him deeper into you. His thrusts become erratic, and with a final, deep thrust, he spills into you, filling you with his release. The hot spurts of his cum coat your battered walls so deliciously, soothing the rawness from the relentless beating.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the aftermath of your climax leaving you both spent and satisfied. Sunghoon pulls out slowly, his hands gentle as they caress your skin. He helps you stand, his touch tender as he pulls you into his arms.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Such a good girl.”

You pant heavily, forgetting for a moment exactly where you are and what you have done, the blurred line of delusion and reality becoming a haze as your eyes fight their way open, your high overcoming your body like a tidal wave

Clearing his throat with a deliberate rasp, Sunghoon's piercing gaze cuts through the haze clouding your senses, snapping you back to the stark reality of your surroundings. The weight of your actions descends upon you like a sudden storm, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

"Tomorrow at 6am, my office," he declares with a steely edge, each word measured and exact as he speaks with a smirk. The earlier rush of pleasure now dissipates into a cold knot of apprehension in your stomach. His voice carries a promise of consequences, leaving no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what you’ve been doing.

"Do not keep me waiting," he continues, his tone low and ominous, "or you'll be punished.”

He hangs up abruptly, the chilling bleep of the disconnected call makes you swallow, realising that you have completely fucked up and have painted yourself guilty as sin.

perm taglist: @immortalvee @snoopypupp @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @pockettwinzz @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @emi-en @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @iikeustar @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan

[snoopcco]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

제이크 , false image.

>_< mai’s endless fluff saga

⊹ ࣪ ˖ popular!jake x quiet awkward! reader. ! 💻

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🗒️ when reader meets popular jock jake who seems mean and unreachable, turns out to be a fluffy, obsessed, baby girl boyfriend. !

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ✩ jake occasionally calls reader ‘glasses’ (because reader is a slight nerd. 🤓☝️)

JAKE WAS DEFINITELY THE POPULAR GUY. known by everyone in their school, “sim jaehyun” this! “jake” that! the whole school knew jake, he was a jock, an amazing athlete, a smart student.

but that all changed once jake met her.

a recap of their love story? happy to tell you.

she was in the library, studying for the maths test, jake was roaming around. finding some peace and quiet in the library, that was his escape. his escape to just feel a bit free and more calm. at that moment, she dropped her wallet trying to reach for her pen, not even noticing that it fell over the table that only she had occupied.

with jakes fast reactions, he quickly noticed the wallet silently thudding on the carpeted, calling towards him.

he thought the girl had heard it, but to his luck, it seemed as if she was wearing headphones that were on 100% volume. jake couldn’t just leave the library all guilty for not telling some stranger that their wallet tipped over and was left on the ground, right?

so, he made his way slowly to the busy girl. picking up the wallet that was a few inches away from her chair, not trying to disturb her. the wallet landed on her desk, as she suddenly looked up.

jake took a slight glance at the studying girl, she had a high pony tail and clear specs that made her features pop out. she had doe eyes that her glasses couldn’t even hide from others even if you were far away.

he gulped, realizing that it was the ‘nerd’ in the school. but to him, he know found out when you looked at her longer, she was beautiful. she wasn’t ugly, but she seemed gorgeous to his eyes at first sight.

“your.. uhm.. wallet fell. I wanted to help you cause you seemed like you didn’t hear it.” his hand landed on the back of his neck, specifically, his nape. but to the girls eyes, he was the popular jock that couldn’t be seen with a person like her.

however, his tone. his soft voice, it made the mean and arrogant remarks of the jock disappear. “thank you, jake.” she bowed practically 90° from her seat, still stunned that jake initiated a conversation with her.

“may I sit here?” jake asked to bring up a question, wanting to have a small (a long conversation that could last for hours at a time) chat with the awkward student.

“oh um sure!”

(border >_<)

jake and the girl bickered and talked for a longer time period that they both wouldn’t had expected. they found out how similar they were despite their differences, leaving the girl who had been looked as the nerd, the girl who was an outcast.

and from that moment on, jake knew that the girl he had met was the one who had to be his.

“baby no! I have to go!” the girl whined, the clingy and pouty jake who didn’t want to let go of her waist that fit perfectly with his veiny hands. he tugged onto the front of her shirt, trying to lower the crop top.

“you can’t leave your boyfriend hanging all alone, glasses, and why should I let you leave in that short ass crop top? when I’m NOT even there.” jake frowned, but she was fed up. or she would be late.

“seriously jake! I need to leave right now.”

“no, glasses, your mine”

it drove crazy at how much jake knew her weaknesses, his cute tone, his eyes, his ability to make her feel butterflies in her stomach. It made her weak.

“glasses, stay, stay with your boyfriend. It would be better than any other shit you have to do, because your boyfriend can spoil you rotten.” jake kissed her on the cheek, still desperate for her to stay.

“no.”

jake soon grabbed her legs and put her over his shoulder, walking away from the door and back inside. “boy! jake! put me down right now!”

“don’t want to.” jake chuckled, all giddy. he loved making his girlfriend all mad and heated up, it made it more fun to tease her endlessly. is this what you get for having a boyfriend who is a serious athlete?

she thought, having a boyfriend like jake, he wouldn’t have any time for her. he would be a booked and busy guy who wouldn’t have time for her. LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. jake went out of his way to cancel his matches if it was date night, or you wanted to hang out with him.

he made sure to always had time with you, he would rather save you then the world.

“I’m gonna kiss your face a billion times and maybe we could go already and do some of the annoying shit you need to do, hm?”

“JAKE!”

“no. it’s baby time, your mine now glasses!” jake smiled evilly, not planning to let her leave. not even in a billion years.

“this is what you get for having a jock boyfriend with a false image.”

@ jwnstars … !! so cutesie core.

OK HSHSSGGS LETS CALM DOWN AFTER THAT MUCH FLUFF ???!!!?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 finally got out of my writing slump and gave into writing again. like a breath of fresh air.

anyway… I don’t know how people overlook jake as the mean frat boy ??? I see him more as the clingy bestfriend of the frat boy who always follows him around ‘cuz they besties !!!!🥹🥹💞💞🎀🎀

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Depressed Reader X Yandere

Nsfw ; manipulation ; yandere ; female reader

Yuta Okkotsu is not a normal man — he knows this better than anyone. Because what kind of man stalks the object of his affections 24/7, showers them with gifts just to be rejected every time, contemplates kidnapping them, and waits and waits and waits in hopes that one day, they’ll change their minds and love him back? 

Call him a simp, but his love for you is heavy, suffocatingly so. And when it comes to words, he can’t even begin to describe what he feels for you. He loves you. He wants you. He needs you. He’s absolutely obsessed. 

You don’t love him, but he knows he can change that now. Because tonight, you finally sought him out. One text sent him driving to your neighborhood at 2 AM at ungodly speeds. It was three words. “I need you”. 

Finally. Months of waiting, yearning, pining, going insane, have finally come to fruition. 

He stands at your apartment doorway nervously, wringing his hands while he waits for you to open the door. A nervous habit he never grew out of. When the door slowly creaks open, he quickly smooths his shirt and tries to hold back his excitement. 

Your eyes are red and puffy from crying, he could tell, but you look gorgeous nonetheless. You’re in nothing but a crop top and some shorts - a look he decides is absolutely ravishing, and it takes everything within him to not jump you right then and there. 

“Oh angel, what’s wrong?” 

Yuta immediately holds you tightly in his arms, unabashedly breathing in your scent and relishing the closeness of your bodies together.

You cling onto him like he’ll disappear, and a swell of contentedness blooms in his chest. You’re too adorable. 

He shuts the door behind him and ushers you into the couch in the living room, as if he’d been there before. 

He has, but not when you were present.

You eventually calm down enough to talk. 

“I just, I feel so fucking empty, Yuta. I hate myself. I feel ugly. I’m lonely. There’s like a big whole in my chest that won’t go away.”

Oh, you poor thing. He asks you if you’ve taken your meds lately, and you give a tiny nod, face pressed into his soft, white sweater. 

You’ve struggled with depression for the longest time, this he knows. He doesn’t quite understand what had made it worse lately, but that was okay. He’ll make it all better soon.

“I’m sorry for crying and calling you over. I just feel so weak right now, I—“

“Hey,” He lowers his head to meet you at eye level, hands gently caressing both of yours, “You are not weak—You’re the strongest person I know. It’s okay to not be okay, got that?”

You only sniffle in return.

“Is there anything I can do for you, angel?”

It’s quiet for a minute, but you eventually open your mouth to say pathetically, “Make me feel better. Help me make all this go away.”

Finally. You’ll let him take care of you. There’s no going back now. 

He could protect you. Maybe not fix you, but he’ll do whatever he can to help. 

“Sweet thing, of course. I’ll give you whatever you want…c’mere, I’ll take care of  everything, okay?” He wipes the tears from your eyes, placing a kiss atop your head. 

“I know how to get rid of that hollow feeling in your chest.” He smiles sweetly, but his next words possess a threatening undertone to them. His eyes filled with love, he proposes, 

“We just fill your body up with something else.”

——————————————————————

“Too big,” You mewl pathetically.

The two of you are in your bed, clothes strewn across the bedroom floor. You look so beautiful underneath him, Yuta thinks. He stares at you with adoration as you take in what he has to offer. 

Your eyes are teary, face flushed, with your body wriggling under him. You try to move from him, to escape the intense stimulation you feel, but the young man holds onto your hips tightly, his member sheathed all the way inside you. 

“Shhhhh, you’re okay baby. Just relax,” His sickeningly sweet voice coaxes you to give under his hold. “See? You’re doing so good right now.” 

Yuta is a gentle lover. He took his time undressing you, and he takes his time fucking you. Slowly, he pumps in and out of you, letting you feel every inch of his cock enter and leave your pretty pussy.

It feels good, you think. So fucking good. For the first time in a long time, you feel full. 

Through your tears, Yuta looks like an angel. 

His delicate, pale skin seems to glow with sweat in the night, and for a second you wonder if he’s a being sent from heaven to turn your life around. A pang of guilt hits your chest when you think about all the times you’ve rejected his advances. Was this okay? Deep down you knew that once this was over, there was no going back. 

“It’s okay,” He hums when he sees another tear fall from your eye, “You’re okay.” He leans down to smother you with kisses, hands having left your hips in favor of playing with your breasts instead. 

“Oh, sweetheart. You feel so good.” He coos. 

You’re so soft and pliant under his hands, just like he’s always thought you’d be. It takes everything in him not to come inside you yet. Your soft moans aren’t helping, the seductive sounds turning him on so much that he wishes he had your room bugged with a recording device so he could save them for later. 

He can tell you’re close when your legs start shaking, and he sings you praises as he coaxes you into an orgasm that sends you to the moon. 

“There you are,” He speaks softly into your ear, “Doing so good for me. It’s okay now, just cum.” 

He’s not long after you, pulling out to pump thick ropes of white onto your stomach.

You’re all tuckered out afterwards, and he finds it endearing when he comes back from the bathroom with a clean towel to wipe you down, only to see you out for the night. 

He loves you so much. And whether you’re ready for it or not, he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 

(Sorry if this was too short guys, I haven’t been doing the greatest creatively and all but gave up on this fic until I saw the latest JJK chapters. Love you all! )

[simp4konig]

I'm undecided as to whether or not Nikto would ever show his lover (you) his face willingly — and if so, how he would go about it... 😟❤️‍🩹

I'm torn between him putting it off as long as he can put it off for, so paranoid by the prospect that the sight of his mangled face will repulse you, that it becomes a phobia that his traumatised mind justifies.

Nikto valued you over anything, and should the sight of his face — irreversibly disfigured and ugly — look utterly repulsive and nauseating to you, it would devastate him.

So, with that said, perhaps Nikto would wear the mask always, parting with it never, ever, and refuse to be seen without the reinforced plastic mask strapped tight to his thick skill — with a black balaclava beneath just for safe measure. Only when you'd be soundly asleep would he brush his teeth and wash his face, cursing silently in Russian at the hideous face that stared back at him in the mirror. A stranger who he couldn't recognise.

I doubt he'd be able to raise this with you, and I headcanon that you would feel sheepish to ask. At this rate, he would never, ever take off the mask, for as long as he could help it. And any glimpse of his profile would have been on accident, and a secret that you'd keep to yourself. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never sneak a peek behind the rare door left ajar, closing it quietly for Nikto before he realised his mishap.

Or, Nikto, considered the nobody, no one worthy of your love, thinks that if his stoic personality and traumatised self haven't done enough to drive you away from him, surely the fact that he is an ugly brute ought to do so? Surely you'd come to terms with how he doesn't deserve you, and that you deserve better? Deserve better than a shell of the man that he once was?

Because you were too good to be true. There was no reality in which a sweet little one like you would love this repugnant, disfigured face, even if his dick — miraculously in one piece — satisfied you and the scarred tissue after chemical burns and scars on his body alone weren't a sore sight to begin with. He didn't deserve someone so lovely, so loving, the epitome of beauty. The complete contrast of him.

So, thinking, “Fuck it”, having convinced himself that you'll inevitably leave when you see the face he keeps hidden from view anyways, he rationalises his impulsive action as not prolonging the inevitable. As not getting his hopes up and letting himself be disappointed later when he won't be able to imagine his life without you.

Maybe Nikto would impulsively discard the mask on the ceramic sink after a shower, and exit the bathroom nonchalantly, his expression emotionless and unreadable to conceal the inner turmoil and hurricane of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind, silently awaiting your approval. Maybe Nikto would surprise you by having you in his arms after a long deployment, and catch you off-guard by his face, laid bare for you to see and criticise. Maybe Nikto would ask you to help him paint his eyes with black warpaint, pretending to need help, when in reality it was simply an excuse and a test. To see if his face would shock you.

In any case, whatever the case, Nikto would feign indifference, appearing uncaring, when he was internally in turmoil, a violent storm of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind.

Were you repulsed? Did the scar tissue from chemical burns on one side of his face disgust you? Did that lifted lip — cut when he was tortured — resembling an animal’s snarl make you visibly cringe? Was the hooked nose that had been broken so many times that it was permanently off-center and deformed, the root of his snoring and inability to breathe, make you grimace? What about his crooked teeth? His thin, cracked lips? Those stained, out-of-shape teeth really that bad to look at? The bald patches of closely-cropped, prematurely grey hair on his scalp that would never regrow a full head of hair? The sunken cheeks? The hollow eyes? The slight concave to his jawline?

He noticed the initial wince, the reaction that came instinctively, which hurt regardless, even after having had braced himself for that grimace.

Bozhe. Stop looking at him with sympathy with those earnest eyes. Don't pity him. Don't pity him. Don't pity him.

Yet, when your eyes wouldn't linger on any specific aspect of his face, and you would offer him a smile that reached your eyes, the stormclouds would calm, and the intrusive thoughts slowly dissipate.

TL:DR, either Nikto will never show his face to his lover, or will do so impulsively.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N

Couldn't sleep, so I decided to brainstorm Nikto drabbles 😍😍❣️❣️❣️

My neighbour wouldn't stfu. GOD I hate my street!!!!! 😡😡😡👊👊✊👊👊✊💥💥💥💥💥🥊🥊🥊🥊 (and Linda!!!!!! )

The description of Nikto's face is a compilation of my own headcanons. 🥹 (I want to kiss him SO BAD 😣💔💔💔)

This was going to go in another direction, but I have another Nikto work coming after I realised that I could write a separate ficlet 🤭✨✨

[zeestie]

°•★ how to make your vision board much more effective

success story: manifesting is really instant, I created a vision board last week for this quarter and stuff on it already manifested !

so don't ever get too attached to time or any other manmade metrics, it is already done x

anywho, this instant success got me thinking of some tips I got for how to make vision boards much more effective (ps u don't have to use all or any of them, this is your vision board & YOU get to decide, back to the tips):

⊹ choose pictures that feel 'real' ⊹

it is important to choose pics that feel as tho you are experiencing them, not just the most aesthetically ones. to do that

use 1st POV pictures so u can visualise through ur own eyes experiencing your manifestations, not someone else's

choose people who look like you or environments that resemble what u wanna manifest

crop yourself or your face into pictures & really.. don't worry too much about ur vision board looking 'ugly' or 'less aesthetic'

⊹ add writing ⊹

it could be cos I love scripting, but I do find that adding writing to my vision boards helps in guiding my thinking when I am not actively visualising, so I recommend you

add affirmations, words of encouragement, or inspiring quotes

add phrases, text massages, etc. that you will receive once you manifest your desire in the 3d

add visual subs: just like audio subs, visual subs bypass ur conscious mind & you can add them by adding text and making it harder to read through making smaller/lower opacity

⊹ include past stuff too ⊹

adding good things that happened in the past makes your board seem more believable to your mind cos if some of it happened, all of it will, to do that

add any past manifestations to remind yourself that you're a master manifestor (technically u alr have it all but yk what I mean 😋)

include moments that you are really grateful for cos gratitude and manifestation go hand in hand + it helps u feel more abundant & happier (who doesn't want that?)

hope this was helpful & good luck with your vision boards 🫶🏽

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[clementine-thedestroyer]

(Tw for dub con/darkish themes)

Valeria x forgotten deity!reader who she finds, relegated to obscurity in some cave or in the basement of a long forgotten and abandoned building after they’ed been betrayed by the very humans they loved so much.

And it was a shame too- you’re a lesser god, maybe having domain over a few waterways or being one of the many relatively unknown lesser fertility god/goddesses- you’d used your divinity to try and do good. You were the rare example of a truly benevolent god.

And maybe that stemmed from exactly how weak of a god you were- so weak, in fact, that when the people you’d watched over for generations turned on you, you were helpless to fight back.

What could you do, in the end? A pitiful little thing like you didn’t have it in you to curse their crops or poison there water with your spite- much less fight back in any real way. You couldn’t bring yourself to harm the humans you loved so much- especially not when poisoning their land would be punishing the whole for the actions of just a few.

So you’re left, forgotten and trapped in some dark cave. You never learned how the people you’d watched over for centuries had died not even a year after betraying you. The entire village- wiped out in a single night during a raid.

You remained trapped for over a millennia, loosing track of time and having your body nearly overtaken by the moss and lichens that populated your cell. And the whole time, you’d continued to use your powers to bless the crops and soil of the village you once felt was the closest thing to a home that someone like you could ever have- blissfully unaware that the people you’d protected and provided for so selflessly had all long since perished.

So all that remains- the only trace of your existence that was left to the world was a simple patch of forest that grew much lusher and much faster than anything around it. Even in times of drought, the leaves never wilted and the ground never cracked from the lack of water.

Valeria had stumbled across you completely by accident. Really, it was like the universe had just dropped you in her lap- centuries of isolation and darkness had made you pliable- malleable to her desires.

So of course, when she found you, she didn’t set you free or offer to help in hopes of currying favor or for the simple reason of having a god owe her a favor-

No, she listened to your sob story- listened to you bawl your eyes out about the years upon years upon years that you’d been trapped there. She listened carefully, pulling you carefully into her lap at the end and tucking your head against her chest.

She cooed patronizingly at you, stroking your hair and lamenting what a shame it was that something as pretty and pitiful as you had been locked up somewhere so dark and ugly when you could’ve been hers.

But you don’t have to worry about that anymore- she’s got you now. You’re hers now, and it’s for the best. After all, if you had too much of a bleeding heart to even resent your people for doing this to you, how could you be expected to take care of yourself?

And it all really does feel like a gift from the universe to Valeria. Because after all, what’s a better show of power than having a literal god at her beck and call- warming her bed and standing at her side to serve her hand and foot.

And you didn’t have to worry about a thing, because she knows what’s best for you, and she’ll never let you go. (And in the end, that’s what your betrayal really boiled down to, didn’t it? Your people let you go, and that’s one thing she’ll never do.)

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Plushies!

JJK Actor AU. Kinda headcannon to what their “out of character” persona would be like. Basically you have plushies of them and they have opinions about it.

Inspired by another fic, can’t remember the name and I scrolled for an HOUR for it. All the character had texts prompts in them.

Maybe spoiler???

Nanami Kento

Continuation of this post

- Between you simping so hard for his onscreen self and the plushies, he is so tierd.

- He’s been acting since his late teens but had one big breakout role. Since you two started dating you have made it a mission to collect any fan content that involves a role he is in.

- Even in the roles where he’s evil you have a mountain of merch!

- He loves that you are so supportive but the Nanami obsession is next level. He’d be more upset if it wasn’t just his face.

- He loves you so he puts up with the Nanami plushies.

Gojo Satoru

- Date an actor they say! It’ll be fine they said! Literally wtf.

- He’s a lot like his character in terms of playfulness. You have gone on record to say they are pretty 1:1 with each other.

- So naturally, when you bring home a Gojo plushie he is distraught.

“I can’t believe you would cheat on me!”

“IT’S A TOY!”

- He kicks Gojo off the bed all the time. Now Gojo Plushie sleeps on the living room couch.

- He still gets up every morning and complains that there’s another man in your apartment when he isn’t there (completely disregarding that you are at work half the time)

- He is secretly looking for artist to commission to make a matching plushie of you.

Geto Suguru

- He HATES it.

- Not just because it’s a plushie of Geto in his Kenjaku era but also because you got it from a con. It’s not licensed merchandise. Meaning stuff he would have gotten for basically free.

- In fact “Sugu-Mini” was just the beginning of a small empire of Suguru plushies you acquired over his duration on the show.

“Why are they all so fucking ugly? Why don’t you ever buy the cute ones?”

- Would rather die than admit that he’s jealous you hold one in you lap while working or lean on them when on the couch.

- Finally stops complaining when you move them to your home office and cuddle with him again.

Kamo Choso

- Sweet angle baby. He actually loves that you love plushies so when he got casted as Choso he would made it a mission to get you one of the first plushies they made.

- It makes you happy so he is ready to get you as many as you wants. He posts on insta a lot so when he mentions looking for more Choso plushies it practically goes viral.

- The next con he went two it took like three attendants to help him lug all the plushies he got. He later posted on insta that night a picture of his bed covered in Choso plushies.

- Eagle eyed fans noticed something though. The layout of the bedroom look eerily similar to another person who made a post about their brand new Choso plush. What are the odds?

- You both turn it into a game, posting photos with an increasing amount of Choso’s everytime.

- This actually starts a trend, #chosoplushietakeover. There’s not a single cast member or crew mate that doesn’t have a Choso plushie. It’s wild.

Ieiri Shoko

- She’s always been a natural beauty, so graceful and ethereal like. Playing someone collected and laid-back like Shoko was a welcomed surprise.

- Even though her role is smaller compared to everyone else, she loved it anyway. Any video from production has her somewhere in the background.

- As another devoted con-goer she also gets a bunch of plushies and brings them all to you. You two have at least 1 plushies in every room in your home. You both even carry a keychain version on your bags.

Iori Utahime

- like her character she has a deep seated hatred for Gojo’s actor but in more of a rivalry way. They are both child stars that got casted a lot together. For a short amount of time they were a ship.

- she originally posted a cute (cropped) picture of her plushie with you sitting off to the side.

- then Gojo did the same.

- So she posted another handmade plushie on her story.

- So did he.

- At this point she wanted him DEAD cause she knows how he feels about those plushies so he’s doing this just to piss her off. It would be that bad if he wasn’t actively bragging about ratioing her.

- Soon enough it becomes the battle of the plushies between these two. Factors are formed in the fandom. No mercy, all glory, blood for the blood god.

Ijichi Kiyotaka

- Doesn’t have any official plushies.

- it isn’t until you buy one online that he kinda cares.

- He treats that plushie like it’s your son. He has a pillow on the living room couch that is HIS pillow. No one can use it, not even guests.

Fushiguro Toji

- He hates it.

- He thinks they’re creepy. He’s never liked stuffed animals ever since he was a kid. None of your kids even have stuffed animals outside of like, 1 teddy bear each.

- Everytime you enter the room he is practicing wrestling moves on the poor thing with your son. You’re just happy you got a good quality one cause it had lasted through some rounds of combat.

Ryomen Sukuna

- I imagine him also being a child star but his career took off when him and his younger brother (Yuuji’s actor) starred in a drama together.

- They did not fight the twin allegations. Sukuna is older though by 5 years. As they’ve gotten older, they’ve gotten easier to differentiate.

- He straight up stole his brother’s Yuuji plush and drew Sukuna’s tattoos on it.

-Combined you two have five plushies:

A pillow one that he uses as a back rest. Two keychain versions. The drawn on Yuuji plush. And an ugly one that got messed up in manufacturing that is your personal favorite.

- He is essentially a plushie thief, if you lend it to him you will never see it again. He is currently has the second most Choso plushie count cause he keeps stealing others. Yours included!

[froggibus]

The Mark of Greed - Mammon

Pairing: Mammon x reader

Genre: angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: mammon can’t help but notice that you refuse to talk about his pact mark, and he’s determined to find out why

CW: hurt/comfort, angst, violence (reader gets attacked by demons), mutual pining, self deprecating thoughts, arguing/yelling, angsty! Mammon, love confessions, misunderstandings

i definitely did not write all of this at 3am. nope. idk i had this image in my head of soft! Mammon tracing your pact mark and telling you he loves you so here it is lol. i got super carried away and ended up making this super long too oops

————

The best kept secret in the Devildom, aside from Satan’s pet cat, was your pact mark. Not just any pact mark—no, it was the shimmering gold one that marked Greed. Right from the day you got it, you knew you should keep it hidden. 

Always wearing clothes to strategically cover it, lying, deflecting and giving different answers every time someone would ask. Mammon watched all this, and said nothing. Sure, it was a little funny, but it also made him wonder. 

Did you hate him? Was the mark of greed as awful as he always thought it was? Was his touch so ugly and toxic that you didn’t want anyone to know about it? 

Maybe his brothers were right. Maybe there was something wrong with him. You were so open about your pacts with his brothers, gladly showing them the swirling coloured patterns that marked your body. You showed them off unashamedly, proudly displaying the marks as part of yourself. 

It made him jealous, really. You were his human. You were his first. His pact was your first—so why did you hate it so much? He always pegged envy as Leviathan’s emotion, but the more he watched, the more he realized his turmoil was enough to rival the otaku himself. 

You first notice Mammon withdrawing after you show a demon in class your pact mark with Beel. An orange sigil just above your belly button that you displayed proudly with crop tops and bathing suits. You could feel Mammon’s eyes on you the whole time, watching you as you explained the beauty behind the mark. 

“It’s not just cause he’s the Avatar of Gluttony,” you explain, fingers tracing the orange outline. “But it also relies on emotions. In this case, the comfort he brings me is like having a full stomach. It sits right at my core because he’s my support.”

You swear you see blue eyes roll to your left, but you shrug it off. He’s probably just upset because Lucifer confiscated Goldie again. Still, you can’t help but think he’s jealous of the way you’re talking about Beel. 

When you walk home later that day, Mammon is short with you. He barely acknowledges you or responds to anything you say, instead he slumps his shoulders and shrugs you off. 

“Mammon, is everything okay? You seem…upset,” you note. 

“The Great Mammon? Upset?” He tsks, “maybe your time in the Devildom has made you dumber, y/n.” 

“I was just checking on you…”

You don’t wait for him to say anything else and instead throw open the front door and stomp to your room in silence. If he wants to be a jerk, you’ll let him be a jerk. 

You practically throw your backpack across the room and slump on your bed. One of your pact marks aches and the thought makes you cringe. Of course it’s that one. 

Ever since you got it, you’ve tried so hard to keep it hidden. Not even telling Mammon himself where it is. I mean, if he knew, what would he even say? You could almost hear his voice in your head telling you that you’re delusional to think you could ever be with him, dismissing your feelings and breaking your heart. 

You get up and sit in front of the mirror, pulling off your shirt so that you can examine your skin. There, sitting above your heart, is the golden mark of Greed. You trace it lightly. It’s always been your favorite, the colour and the design by far the prettiest. You just wish it wasn’t where it was. 

When you first got the mark, when you felt it sear itself into your skin, you knew what it meant. It was a visual representation of the butterflies in your stomach and the clenching in your heart every time you saw the Avatar of Greed. 

Still, you found yourself flipping through the pages of Satan’s personal collection. You honestly hoped it was just random, a weird coincidence or a mistake—but the books said otherwise. They confirmed your fear. 

When the others started to make pacts with you, you worried the same thing would happen. That they would show up in the same place or worse. You can still remember the immense relief you felt when you made your pact with Levi and have the mark show up on your thigh. 

Levi was so excited to ask about his mark and when you let him touch it? He almost exploded. That was the first time Mammon asked you about his mark, and it was the first time you lied to him. 

You groan in frustration and pull your shirt back on, trying to blink away the image of his branding. A part of you always wanted to tell him, to show him and have him touch it. But the other part couldn’t get it out of your head that you’re just a burden to him. You’re his responsibility and that’s the only reason he hangs around you. 

You only wish things could be simpler. 

—

Mammon slams the door to his room and sinks down against it. He tugs on his white hair so hard it hurts, but the pain isn’t enough to wash away the frustration bubbling in his chest. 

Why did he have to be so mean to you?

Maybe if he was nicer you wouldn’t hate him or his pact mark. Maybe if he was nicer to you he might actually have a chance of being with you. 

The sound of his voice rings in his ears, echoing off his skull. He hates it. He hates how mean he was to you, and the guilt eats him up. 

Finally, it becomes too much and he forces himself to his feet. He should apologize to you. Because Lucifer would kill him if he knew how mean he was being…not for any other reason. 

You open the door to see him standing in front of you, fidgeting with his hands. “What’s up?” 

“I—Lucifer would be mad at me if I didn’t apologize to you,” he says, eyes focused on his shoes. “‘N I don’t wanna be strung up tonight so I’m sorry human.”

“It’s fine. Just—why were you so upset earlier, anyways?”

He shrugs his shoulders, still avoiding eye contact with you. How can he tell you that he’s jealous and angry that you don’t want to show off your pact mark? It’ll make him sound like a little kid. 

“Mammon, come on. It’s just me.”

He sighs, “not that I care but I don’t get why you hate my pact so much.”

You freeze, your blood like ice in your veins. All this time you’d been withdrawing from him, you knew he noticed but because he never said anything, it was easy to ignore. Not anymore. 

“I-I don’t hate it.”

“Then why do you never show anyone?”

“It’s just,” you shrug, “in a weird spot. I don’t know—I don’t hate it. I just don’t want to show it off.”

“Because it’s ugly, right?”

“Mammon—“

“Why would anyone want to be marked by Greed?”

“Mammon—!”

“Imma dirty scumbag anyway. Making a pact with you was the most selfish thing I ever did. Tying you to me for life, why would you ever want that?”

“Mammon, Jesus. Just listen to me!”

The demon stops his self deprecating rant, staring at you expectantly. He doesn’t know what you’re about to say, but all he can hope is for you to tell him that’s it’s not true. That it’s not ugly, that you want to be tied to him. 

Your words fail you. You interrupt his rant and suddenly your mouth goes dry under the gaze of his blue eyes and your words all fall away. Your heart beats a mile a minute, drawing more of your focus to the pact mark that connects the two of you.

You stare at each other for a minute, and then Mammon turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

It takes you a minute to process what just happened, and another minute for you to follow him. By the time you make it to the staircase, he’s already slamming the front door shut behind him. 

Everything is moving so fast. The illusion that you were protecting yourself from Mammon hating you has shattered—replaced by the realization that you’ve been hurting him this whole time. You can’t think of anything except for how to make this right. 

Without thinking about it, you follow him out of the door and into the streets of the Devildom. It’s dark out and you have to squint to see the familiar white hair receding into the distance. You pick up the pace, wanting to catch him before he disappears. 

You’ve never been outside alone before. It’s too dangerous, they always said. But that’s the furthest thing from your mind right now. All you want is to make things with him better. 

“Mammon!” You call, heading up the hill behind him. 

When you get to the top, the demon is no longer in sight. You spin around to see if he doubled back to the house, only to realize it’s no longer in sight either. The horrible realization that you’re lost starts to set in and you find yourself reaching into your pocket for your DDD—only to remember you left it in your backpack. 

There’s a hissing noise nearby and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how vulnerable you are here. Without thinking, you start to run back the way you think you came. You hear two pairs of footsteps behind you, they’re gaining on you. Whatever is chasing you, it’s going to catch you. 

A clawed hand takes your back and hot pain erupts within you. You fall to your knees and scream, warm blood trickling down your back. 

You try to get back up but you’re shaking so badly that your knees refuse to cooperate. There’s two demons behind you, only vaguely humanoid with glowing eyes and flickering tongues. They’re speaking, but not in any language you understand. 

They circle around you, taking some sort of sick amusement in watching their prey cower. One of them lashes out at your chest, three claws slicing the front of your shirt and causing blood to pool down your chest and stomach. 

You reach up to clutch the wounds, your fingertips brushing against the golden pact mark. I’ll never get to tell him how I feel, you realize. 

“I’m sorry, Mammon,” you murmur, tracing your pact mark one last time. 

A jolt of energy rushes through you followed by intense golden light in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting until it dims to open them again. When they’re open, you see Mammon in demon form, standing between you and your attackers. 

All it takes is a flick of his hand before they erupt into dust. You knew he was powerful, but seeing him in action only confirmed the fact. 

“Mammon..?”

He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands frantic as they search you for injury. His fingertips fall on your open shirt and clawed chest. “You’re hurt…”

“I’m sorry, Mammon,” you mumble. 

“I know.” He says, “let’s just get you home, okay?”

He scoops you up in his arms effortlessly, holding you close to him. You’re sure your blood is dripping all over him and wrecking his new shoes, but you’re too disoriented to care. 

Mammon sets you down on the counter in the bathroom, “move your hand, alright? I gotta make sure you’re not gonna die.” 

Without thinking about it, you move your blood coated hand off of the pact mark. Mammon slowly peels off your shredded shirt, his eyes going wide when he sees what your hand was covering. 

Somewhat hidden by the blood and fabric yet unmistakable, is a golden mark. Not just any golden mark—his golden mark. His pact mark and its above your heart? 

His hands shake as they brush the outline of it. “My—my pact mark is on your heart?”

You bite your lip and nod slowly, looking anywhere but at him. 

Mammon is in complete disbelief. This whole time he thought his feelings were one sided, that you hated him and hated his pact even more. But to find out that it’s on your heart of all places—right as he almost lost you? He’s almost entirely overwhelmed by his feelings. 

His hands shake the whole time he bandages and disinfects you, his mind only set on the branding above your chest. When he’s done fixing you up, he can’t stop staring at it. 

“You got lucky that the Great Mammon was here to protect you today,” he tries to play it off. 

“I-it was only cause I summoned you with the pact.”

The mention of the pact makes his head spin again. His mouth is suddenly dry and his hands sweaty. 

“Mammon,” you mumble, still unable to look at him, “please say something.”

His voice is low. “Do you know what it means when a pact mark forms over your heart?”

You shake your head, butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

He reaches out to trace the swirling lines of the mark, his touch featherlight. “It means I’ll always be there for you, y/n.”

His tone is serious, unlike anything you’ve heard from him before. You don’t dare move or interrupt him, wanting to hear what the demon has to say. 

“It means that I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he mumbles. “That I’ll take care of you no matter what. It means that you own me. It means that I—“ he swallows hard, looking at the floor. “I love you, y/n. Now and forever.”

You flinch at his words. They’re all you wanted to hear and yet hearing them has awakened something inside of you. 

Your eyes finally meet his. “You—you really mean it?”

“I love you,” he gently kisses the centre of his mark on your body. “I love you.”

“Mammon,” you say, “I love you.”

Mammon might burst at your words. He reaches up to cup your face, planting a needy kiss on your lips. His touch is desperate, needy, way overdue. You melt into him, his taste so familiar and comforting that you don’t need to think twice about it. 

Mammon smiles against you. If you had asked him a week ago, he would say that his pact with you was the most selfish thing he’s ever done. Looking at you now, though, he sees it as a sigil of his love for you, and what could be more selfless than that?

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic May 1 - prompt 1: Accidental Eavesdropping [word count 487]

“Come on, Remus,” Lily nudged him with her foot. “Tell me.”

Remus opened one eye, narrowing it under the bright spring sun barely shielded by the tree they had settled under, not too far from the banks of the lake.

“Why? You hate him.”

“I don’t,” Lily waved her wand in the air. “Do I think Black is as obnoxious as Potter? Yes. Do I wish them harm? Only occasionally. Do I judge your pining after Black? Of course no, it wouldn’t be nice of me. Besides, it’s not like you actively chose to have a crush on him.”

Remus chuckled and looked at the banks of the lake, where May lay sprawled in the sun and Marlene sat with her feet in the water, quite blatantly eying Dorcas Meadowes who had left her group of Slytherin friends behind and was now swimming in lazy strokes not too far from them.

No, he definitely hadn’t chosen to fall for Sirius Black. Of course, he didn’t agree with Lily’s opinion of him or James but that was because she had never gotten to experience the fierce loyalty the both of them were capable of. Lily didn’t know about his furry little problem, as Sirius called it, and the lengths to which the Marauders had gone to help him and stand by his side. Still, she was right about him not actively choosing to have a crush on Sirius fucking Black of all people. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to endless pining after the handsomest guy in their year, always popular, always the centre of attention, always with a cohort of girls following him around.

“I don’t have a crush on Sirius,” he sighed.

“Right,” Lily rolled her eyes. “And Dumbledore has notoriously cropped hair.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus forced himself to look into Lily’s green eyes. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“Oh,” Lily stared back at him. “Oh, shit.”

She twirled her wand between her fingers and opened her mouth again in the same moment a loud crack came from above them. In the following second they managed to move away before a huge branch fell between them, along with a tangle of limbs and robes. Remus stared, recognising the human-shaped tangle on the grass.

“Pete said it would end up like this…” James’s voice groaned, half-muffled by Sirius’s stomach.

“Yeah, well, we never listen to him,” Sirius’s voice answered from the grass, a bit clearer.

“What the fuck, Potter?”

Lily had gotten to her feet and was glaring at them.

“Alright, Evans?” James managed to smile as he removed Sirius from his chest.

“You could’ve killed us! And you were eavesdropping on a private conversation!”

Remus felt his cheeks heat up as Sirius managed to sit up, the echo of his declaration of love still ringing in his ears.

“Come on, Evans…” James raised his hands in an appeasing motion.

“Fuck no!” Lily pointed her wand at him. “You’d better run.”

For once, James did as he was told and scrambled to his feet, ending up running along the bank with Lily on his heels.

“You arsehole!”

“It was innocent, Evans, I swear!”

“Bullshit!”

Remus grimaced at the thought of what ugly spell-induced boils he would have to remove from James’s face later on and turned away from the scene, coming face to face with a grinning Sirius, still sprawled on the ground in that annoyingly elegant way of his even if he had literally just fell out of a tree.

“So…” Sirius cocked his head. “How about Hogsmeade next weekend, just the two of us?”

Remus’s heart skipped a beat.

“You mean like… a date?” he managed to whisper.

“Yes, unless you were lying to Evans about your feelings for me.”

“I wasn’t,” Remus forced himself to say. “But I didn’t think…”

He saw Sirius’s cheeks redden, and his grin soften.

“I just didn’t think you’d ever like me this way,” he said. “I thought you’d go for someone calmer, less… chaotic. I mean, I’m always around causing some mischief or trying to get a party together.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why,” Remus smiled.

He saw Sirius hesitate then he leaned slightly forward, carefully putting his hand over his.

“So… Can I take you out on a date to Hogsmeade?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, his heart pounding in his head. “Definitely.”

[wrrrenff]

How the Stardew Valley Bachelors React When the Farmer Injures Themselves

TW:// slight injury

Ahh... The crops have all been watered and the animals all have been fed. I deserve a snack!

The farmer starts their trek back to their farmhouse, thinking about what they might throw together in the kitchen. Suddenly you adorable pet bolts in front of you trying to chase a bird, and trips you! You land hard on the ground. You groan, your body feeling sore but overall fine, and get up. You dust yourself off only to notice that you landed on some sticks and they scraped up your arm pretty bad. It honestly didn't really hurt. It did look pretty ugly though. Hopefully no one will notice it once it's all cleaned up...

Harvey:

'Hey Far-'

Notices IMMEDIATELY

I mean c'mon of course he does. HES A DOCTOR

Doctor mode activated

Asks if he can take a closer look and fully inspects your arm

Asks what you used to clean it and scolds you when you say you just rinsed it off

Drags you back to his office and properly washes and bandages you

He's been so worried about what caused this the whole time but doesn't ask. He want you to share the cause only if you're comfortable

Let's out the biggest sigh of relief when he finds out it wasn't anything serious that caused this

Is on your ass making sure you are properly cleaning the wound and changing your bandage

Will softly kiss your bandages and forehead

'Thank yoba you have such an attentive doctor to take care of you'

Alex:

Despite how tough and nonchalant Alex may seem, I think he would be pretty worried and maybe even a little squeamish toward your injury

He does get injured sometimes playing gridball but the man is clueless when it come to caring for those injuries

He would usually just go to his grandma for help... which is exactly what he did with you

'Grandma can you help the farmer? They're hurt pretty bad. I-I just want to make them feel better'

After Evelyn patches you up, he grabs a blanket and something from his room then suggests you two go take a walk on the beach

Once at the beach he lays out the blanket and you both sit

That's when he pulls out his mothers music box and opens it, letting the soothing music play

'Mom would hum this while taking care of me and it always help me feel better. Maybe it'll be the same for you'

He will hold you and kiss you to help you forget about your pain

Shane:

I feel like he wouldn't notice immediately. Maybe 2 or 3 days after it happened and it's already pretty scabbed over

'Woah farmer, did one of you chickens get you?'

Tries to keep it together but is freaking out inside

Buys you a drink to 'help with the pain'

Gets a drink for himself to calm the fear of other things that could hurt you

Starts taking more 'walks around the valley' just to stop by the farm and make sure you stay safe

Sam:

'How'd you get that mean scrape farmer?''

He wasn't even fazed

He almost immediately assumed you just hurt yourself farming

He knew it couldn't be serious since you were still acting like your usual self

Sam has had some nasty injuries from skating around so he was a PRO when it came to cleaning and bandaging

Kept on you to change you bandages

Once he got a bad infection from not cleaning his scrape enough and he DOES NOT want you to have to deal with that

Will force you to hang with him and watch movies/eat snacks to keep you from overexerting yourself

Elliot:

If he sees your injury fresh I fully believe this man would faint

'Oh darling what happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it an animal? O-oh it was some... sticks? Those dastardly sticks!!"

Man will treat you like you broke you arm

I'm talking, making your food for you, drawing you baths, tucking you into bed, even doing your farming for you

You insist your fine but he wont hear it

Will cover your arm in kisses to make you feel better

Stays on top of cleaning your wound

He will definitely take inspiration from this moment for his novel

Sebastian:

Noticed it as soon as you walked into his room

He didn't want to say anything about it but you noticed his eyes were basically glued to your arm

His mind immediately went to the mines since he's seen you go in and out many times while he goes out to smoke

Is so relieved that is was just from some stupid sticks

He will absentmindedly rub the injury lightly when he's sitting near you

Lets you lay in his bed while he works to make you feel better, definitely not because he wants to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't hurt yourself more

[billybangbang]

Imagine dressing up for Butcher like this after hearing his rant at the Believe Expo

You confessing your "sins" to Butcher.

Butcher x reader

Not proof read, we die like men

Trigger. SMUT, Religious kink, seriously please do not read it if you are easily offended by blasphemy, nipple clamps, riding crop, and teasing.

You listened to Butcher rant about God being a cunt. His bluntness and casual assurance made you bite your lips and squeeze your thighs together. You loved nothing more than a man who didn't give a shit. When M.M. stepped in and pulled him away. You grabbed Butchers hand. He immediately interlaced his fingers with yours, shooting you a smirk. The next few hours, you walked together through the expo. The more you saw the more you wanted to tell these fundamentalists to shut the fuck up. But it also gave you an idea. You glanced at Butcher, smirking to yourself with what you had planned.

You excused yourself after the plan was set for Hughie to blackmail the strechy man. Making your way to the costume shop, you walked through it slowly, looking at anything that had to do with religious undertones. But nothing really spoke to you. So you settled on a veil and some ugly cross jewlery. Butcher would get the hint, you were sure. The next stop was the lingerie shop. There, you picked out a white two-piece set. White the color of innocents and being pure. You bit your lip, looking in the mirror. You looked hot in it. Your boobs looked amazing, and your ass was on point. You shook your ass watching it bounce in the mirror.

Now, just one more stop. The sex store. Butcher would probably pout that you went to a sex shop without him, but he'll get over it once he saw you.

You walked through aisles after aisle admiring all the different toys. You stopped on some nipple class that connected to each other with a silver chain and had pearls adorned. You picked the package up, looking it over. Damn you would look good in them. Quickly, you added them to your other stuff. Then you went and grabbed some lube, cherry lip gloss, and a riding crop.

For a second, you wondered if you should get Butcher a black dress shirt or something, but then something different came to mind. Quickly, you made your way home to the shared flat with Butcher. You laid out the only black dress pants he had and your favorite black sweater of his plus his black dress shoes. You laid it out on the couch with a note saying "wear me" and a 💋 from your cherry lipgloss.

You took a quick shower and styled your hair a bit before putting on the smallest amount of makeup to look as innocent as possible. You got dressed and took some Polaroids. You were too hot to miss out on the opportunity to hide some sexy Polaroids in Butchers stuff to remind him of you.

Butcher shot you a text that he would be home in five, so you quickly made sure that everything was in order in your bedroom. You had cleaned the countertop that was next to your bed of everything besides the nipple clamps laid out. Then the riding Corp and the lube. You had made the bed up with black sheets. Finally, you heard him open the door and quickly climbed on the bed, kneeling.

You heard Butcher grunting, probably read the note. You could imagine his frown and eye roll, but he did as he was told.

You heard the footsteps getting closer to the bedroom, and you could not help but squirm already anticipating the things he would do to you.

He opened the door, to see you kneeling on the bed. The light was dimmed and candles were everywhere. Fuck, you looked so hot. "Ain't that a nice surprise." He smirked. leaning on the door frame just watching you with his predatory gaze. "Whatever do you mean?" You asked innocently, giving him a slight smile. "I thought we had an appointment." You leaned forward pushing your breasts together. "I have so many things to confess, Father." Never did Billy think the word Father would sound so hot. He felt all his blood rush south. "Ain't that a shame. Ya' been a bad girl." You just nodded with a pout. " I am afraid so, father, but I cannot help it. I have so many impure thoughts." Butcher had to hold back a groan. Instead, he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer to you. He stood a foot away just watching you. Your heart was racing anticipating what he would do next. He slowly reached out and you thought he would caress your face like he so often did before kissing you but instead, he swiped his thumb across your lip, taking off some of your lipgloss before putting it between his lips. "Hm," he closed his eyes imagining tasting you all over. You looked at him your lips slightly open. "Confess your sins, tell your father the impure thoughts you got in that pretty little head of yours." He commanded. You took a deep gulp, trying not to squirm. "Father, I confess I have thought about sinful things." Butcher nodded, "go on." You took a deep breath and lowered your eyes as if ashamed. "No, no. Do not take your eyes from me, confess all your sins to me. I need to see the shame in your eyes to know you are repentant." You almost left out a moan. "I sometimes think about ... things, when it is late at night." You broke off. "What things, go on child." "I think about a man, touching me and me touching him," Butcher grunted. "The kind of touch a good girl like me should not think about. I dream about a man coming into my room, and pulling the covers off my body. He starts kissing me. I cannot help these thoughts it is like someone else has taken over my body. Father am I going to hell?" You managed to tear up, one falling down your cheek. Billy wanted to reach out and lick the tear off your cheek. He knew it was fucked up but he liked it when you cried it made him even harder. "No child, not if you confess even the tiniest detail to me." You nodded dutifully and went on. You described how the man would push you into the mattress, rip your shirt and start trailing kisses down your chest until he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks. Butcher hums in pleasure he loves licking and marking your beautiful tits. Slowly he started to unbutton his trousers which had gotten too tight. His bulge was prominent and you whined at the sight of it. "No, eyes on me." You immediately obeyed looking into his eyes. "Ignore the rest, just look at me." You nodded. "Oh, father but I have not told you the worst of it. Every time I imagine a man walking into my bedroom touching me I touch myself, run my hands over my body. I get so wet and cannot help it. I have to touch myself, rub my clit, and finger my pussy." Butcher groaned as he took his cock out of his boxers stroking himself to your words. You were so tempted to look down and watch his beautiful cock yet even though you were pretending to confess your sins it would truly be a sin for you to obey his command.

"Go on, my good little girl still has things to confess." He continued to stroke his cock so close to your face. It was getting harder for you to concentrate all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. Finally, you snapped. "I dream about opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out, and tasting a man, in his purest form." You followed suit, looking into his eyes while leaning forward slightly, pushing your tits even more together. Mouth open and willing. You slightly connected with the tip of his cock through your veil his pre cum sticking to your tongue. He slowly pulled back watching a mixture of spit and cum connect your tongue and his cock. "I am afraid your sins are too great. God tells us to punish sinners. I need to punish you." He stepped back and you whined. He turned to the dresser with the new toys. Shooting you a smirk.

He picked up the lube, and made his way over to you, he kneeled in front of you. "You clenched your soul with your confession like a good girl. But now we need to get rid of the sin in your body." He slowly reached out stroking the string above your breast. "Do you understand, child?" You nodded instantly. "Tell me." "I understand, Father, I will do as you say, I just want to be pure again." "Good girl," with a swift tug he ripped the fabric of your bra and threw it on the floor. You tits bounced with the force. "Hmm," he hummed in pleasure at seeing your tits. He reached out weighing them in your hand. "Is this what the man in your dream those to you." You nodded pushing your chest more into his hands. He rubbed them slowly before taking the lube putting some on the tip of his fingers. He lifted your chin so you would look directly at him. He reached out tracing your nipples with the cold lube. He watches as your face transforms into one of pleasure. "Do you feel that? This is sin leaving your body." "Yes, Father." He took his time getting your nipples nice and hard. It was driving you crazy, your underwear impossibly wet. "Now, we need to punish you so you will never forget the lord's words." He went and picked up the nipple clamps. He kissed your right breast before pinning the clip onto your nipple. You moaned, closing your eyes. fuck this hurt so good. Before doing int to the other. You looked so good with the veil on your face, your tits out and adorned with clamps. "Now you look like the good girl I know you are. But God needs to know it too." With that he reached down, between your legs, under your panties. "Tss, tss, what do we have here." He felt the wetness between your legs, circling your clit. You let out small moans, holding onto his arm. "Your impure thoughts made you wet, this is not acceptable. I will need to punish you further, or God will not forgive you." He pulled his hand back and you cried out. He walked towards the dresser picking up the riding crop. "Spread your legs, put your pussy on display for me." Fuck, yes you wanted nothing more. You scooted towards the edge of the bed, spreading your legs. The white was almost see-through now from your wetness. "Lay back my child, take your punishment like the sinner you are." He stepped between your legs, admiring your stretched-out form. Your chest heaving, your body tense with anticipation. Wham, he brought the riding corp onto your pussy. "Ah," you arched your back. Wham, another one had you moaning. Before he continued he caressed your pussy. God, you wished that he had taken your underwear of first but he was such a tease he would not give it to you until he felt you deserved it. He gave you five more lashes. "Seven, the holy number. You should be pure again." He kneeled down between your legs, and slowly he kissed the inner of your right tight, before moving to the left always leaving out your pussy. Slowly he dragged down your panties. "Hm, seems like this holy punishment was not enough. I will have to take more drastic measures to ensure your soul is saved." He took of his sweater and got rid of his shoes and pants. "The only way to save you is to fuck the thoughts out of you. Lay back on the bed, and take your punishment." You crawled up the bed before spreading your legs again, you were more than ready to feel Billy's cock. "Please, make me pure again with your cock." Butcher gave you a smirk as he crawled over your body. He leaned down, covering your whole body with his. "Don't ya' worry, I'll fuck the sin outta ya'." He whispered in your ear before giving you the most intense and sloppy kiss. You still had the veil over your face but that didn't stop Butcher, he was all tongue and teeth. He tugged on the chain pulling on your nipples, "Ah, I can't, I need you Father please." He tugged on the chain again, making your eyes roll back into your head. "I dream about you father, the man that comes into my room. It is you, all you." Butcher gave you a satisfied smirk. "Good girl."

He reached down between your bodies. He took his cock into his hand and swiped it between your pussy lips, circling your clit before thrusting into you with one swift push. You both groaned in unison. "Fuck yes," Butcher lost all control pounding into you, spitting profanities. "My own personal fuck slut, such a sinful baby, Imma fuck it out of you." He punctuated every word with a thrust. "Say it, say you are my sinful fuck slut." "Ah, I am, Father." You moaned. "I am your sinful fuck slut, always." He reached his hand between your body drawing circles on your clit. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten but before you could reach your peak he drew back. He pushed your hands above your head. "Keep them here. I want to see your tits bounce freely." You held onto the headboard, trying to contain your screaming. Butcher held onto your waist pulling you back onto your cock while fucking into you. "Yes, yes, yes, please." You whined. He could cum from the sight of you spread out. "Imma keep you hear now. As my personal fuck slut, never let you go. You gonna wear that little veil of yours and the lord around your neck and nothing more. I will fuck you in every which way I wish. First Imma cum in that pussy of yours, then on your tits and face. I'll fuck you from the back put my cock in your ass make you feel me everywhere. 'cause this cunt is mine." Butcher let out a deep groan, as he felt you tighten around him. God this man could talk you into an orgasm. He quickly pushed his hands between the two of you rubbing circles on your clit, alternating between small and quick and slow and wide circles. You could not hold it in any longer, "I'm gonna cum, Father, oh please." "Yes, my slut, cum for your Priest. Make me proud." With a final thrust, you came screaming his name. Butcher watched in aw how your face contorted in pleasure and it was the final straw for him. He quickly pulled out, quickly sitting on your chest. "You don't deserve my cum just yet. You need to show me your devotion before I will fill you up. Make you my cum slut." He was groaning while stroking himself furiously. You moaned at the thought, pushing your tongue out of your mouth waiting for him to finally paint you with his cum. He let out a final groan and came all over your face, you could hardly taste him because of the veil. But it quickly became Butcher's favourite accessory. He stroked himself until he was spent before picking up the Polaroid camera on the nightstand and snapping a picture of your face, the cross necklace and your tits covered in cum.

"Guess there is something good about religion after all," Butcher commented pulling you to him.

[mooncalfed]

the way my skin clings to yours

part of the “another kiss prompt” list. making my way down because I’ve been devouring Ghost fanfiction and though I want to be fucked into next century, what I really need is some tenderness.

prompt: a kiss to make up for an argument.

It’s awkward, is what it is. Awkward, the way your eyes keep bouncing towards his and then skitter away when he meets you. It’s almost as though you don’t know him, as though you haven’t been in love with him since you first met. It’s the kind of tension that, between not-yet lovers, could be misconstrued as flirtation, but this is definitely not that.

Simon hasn’t spoken to you in days.

The two of you circle each other in your shared flat, existing in the same space and occupying the same tense energy but somehow never managing to fold back into each other. Part of you wants to rush up to him and melt the way you used to, but you promised yourself that you would stop that - that you’d build better ways of resolving arguments rather than just cave and re-establish the cycle of miscommunication.

You want him so much. You love him so much. You know this awkwardness is part and parcel of breaking a pattern, but the silence is now suffocating and you can’t help but worry that somewhere along the way you might lose him.

These thoughts crop up, unbidden, and they make the noose around your chest tighten painfully.

You’re thinking about this again tonight. Your gloved hands are washing the dishes after another silent dinner. Simon is somewhere in the flat, making no noise as per usual. In happier moments you find it amusing and are somewhat in awe of the man’s stealth.

Usually you find washing the dishes comforting, the soft sloshing of water and circular motions of your hand soothing away the day’s bumps and ruffles. But tonight, you’re tired. You’re worried. You’re lonely, and you’re sad.

What if this is it? You think, stomach twisting as your eyes heat with fear and grief. What if this is the beginning of the end?

Tears begin to drip down your face as you contemplate the demise of your relationship.

You just love him so much. You want the best for him. You want the best for you. You believe with all your soul that what’s best for you both is to be together. But not like this.

You don’t have any energy left to wipe your face, so you watch as they drip into the soapy water and lean all your weight onto the counter for support.

Warm hands land gently on your shoulders and you start, completely taken by surprise.

Simon turns you around slowly to face him, and as you raise your head to meet his gaze, you see his eyes take in the tracks on your cheeks. He sighs, a tired, worn sigh.

Your eyes dart away and you quickly unglove your hands to slap at your cheeks.

His mask is back on. Has been since you had the argument. He does this - you guess it’s his way of shielding himself from you. You know it’s to protect his thoughts and that it makes him feel safe, but you can’t help but feel hurt. Sometimes the boundary feels like distance, like he doesn’t trust you.

Simon’s hand comes to guide your chin up so you’re facing him straight on.

He sighs again. You tense.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy from days without use.

Tears flood your eyes and you are immediately weeping. His words give you permission to feel the deep hurt you’ve been keeping at bay.

You cough through your tears, a rather ugly sound, but you just can’t help it. Your hands grip the front of his shirt as though he might disappear into thin air.

Simon shushes you and takes a step closer, pushing your back against the edge of the sink and lining his warm, firm torso against yours. You bury your head in his chest and take deep gulps of his scent between thick sniffles.

He gives you time to recover yourself, and then his two big palms come to pull your head back gently. Gorgeous, expressive eyes stare longingly at you, and you swallow up every ounce of emotion he is offering.

Your powdery, silicone-scented fingers graze his chin. Can I? You ask with your eyes.

Simon nods minutely, craning his head for easier access.

You peel his mask up slowly, achingly slowly, as though he were a wounded animal. The two of you look at each other the whole time. His unveiling has never been more precious.

You roll up the black cotton just enough to reveal his lips and brush your thumb over the cracked skin of his bottom lip.

His eyes dart down to your lips, following the movement of your tongue when it appears for a moment to soothe your own bitten lip.

“Can I?” You whisper, fingertips moving in to brush against his cheek. Simon leans into your hand and melts more into your body. A leg slides between yours and you can’t voice how loved it makes you feel to be allowed to be wedged against him.

Simon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans down and ever so tenderly pushes his lips against yours. The contact makes your nose prickle yet again with emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, kissing each other with closed lips as though you were kissing for the first time.

Simon pulls away, and you enjoy the tackiness of your lips as the skin clings to his. It mirrors how you feel. You never want him to pull away again, you just can’t handle it.

He takes a deep breath, the intake so large and long and deep that it pushes you even further back into the counter edge.

Simon shifts his hand, one resting on your neck with a thumb caressing your skin while the other cradles your jaw. He’s held you many times like this with varying levels of intensity, but this is by far the gentlest. It lacks the lust and intensity of moments he has you pinned down, slick and naked, but this time… the air crackles.

His lips part slightly and he pushes back in to kiss you again. He kisses you long and slow and soft and every atom of your body vibrates with the knowledge that he came to find you.

You love him so, and you have so much hope.