#mmm the cool answered tag

[ulmaria29]

breh i can send questions to myself

first askFAN MAIL ❤️

Edit: about to remove the image, IT’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE BIG

edit 2: no, it’s staying i dont like how it looks

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Starting The Morning Off Right » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky start the morning off the right way.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, female receiving, unprotected sex, morning sex, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, Bucky’s Army dog tags, pet names

A/N: This is based off of a dream I had a couple nights ago. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You stirred in your sleep when you felt your boyfriend’s lips kissing along the back of your shoulders, his stubble scratching along your skin. You smiled at the feeling. Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to look at him.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Bucky murmurs softly, his voice raspy from waking up a moment before you.

“Good morning, baby.” You smiled at him.

You rolled over onto your back so you could give Bucky a proper morning kiss. You carded your fingers through his messy hair as he kissed you. The kiss started off sweet, but quickly got heated. Bucky moved himself on top of you, hovering over you. You could feel the cool metal of his Army dog tags in between your breasts.

“How about we start the morning off the right way, babydoll.” He suggests seductively, moving his lips down to your neck and kissed the hickeys he put there last night.

“Mmm, you read my mind, babe.” You hummed against his lips.

Bucky threw the blanket off the two of you. You guys were still naked from last night’s activities. You watched Bucky kiss his way down your body. He spread your legs so he could lay on his stomach in between them.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, doll.” Bucky almost whispers, rubbing a finger from your entrance to your clit.

You moaned softly. You could also feel his breath on your pussy. Bucky’s tongue licked a stripe on your pussy, moaning at your taste. The tip of his tongue circled your clit before he latched his lips onto your clit, sucking on it. Your mouth fell open, strings of moans fell from your lips. You reached a hand down, tugging on his hair.

“Oh fuck, Bucky!” You moaned.

Bucky picked up the pace with the movements of his tongue. Your head fell back against the pillow. Your hips moved slowly on their own accord against his face.

“You feeling good, doll face?” Bucky asks, taking his mouth off of your pussy momentarily.

“Yes!” You answered in a moan.

Bucky smirks to himself, knowing he’s doing an amazing job of making you feel good. He put his mouth back on your pussy. He began to wiggle his tongue against your folds, catching you off guard.

“Yes, fuck!” You moaned. “Keep doing that, baby!” You tell him.

Bucky continued to wiggle his tongue against your folds. He slowly moved his tongue upward to your clit, licking it in a flicking motion. That made you arch your back off the bed in pleasure. You moaned his name multiple times in a row as if you were chanting. It was music to Bucky’s ears.

You felt your lower stomach tighten, feeling your orgasm beginning to build up. Your legs began to shake from the amount of pleasure you were receiving from Bucky. Your grip on Bucky’s hair tightened. Your toes curled, feeling your orgasm coming closer and closer. Bucky could sense it. He can always sense when you’re about to cum.

“You getting close, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm yea.” You nodded. “Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

Bucky’s tongue quickened its movements. He’s determined to make you cum before he fucks you. Your mouth fell open, strings of moans leaving your lips. It felt like a tidal wave was about to come crashing down on you.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He says.

You moaned his name loudly as you came hard, soaking his face. Bucky’s tongue circled your clit a few times before stopping. He sat up and hovered over you. You panting heavily, staring at his Army dog tags as they dangled over your face. He dipped his head down and kissed along your shoulders while you caught your breath.

“You ready for my cock, doll face?” Bucky asks against your shoulder.

“Yes.” You answered.

Bucky gave you a sweet kiss on your lips before sitting back on his knees. He put your legs over the top of his thighs. His hands rubbed the top of your thighs as he admired your beauty for a short moment. He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, stroking it in his hand a few times before lining it at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock in your pussy inch by inch. Relieved moans fell from your lips and his.

Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size when his cock was fully inside of you. You nodded, giving him the ok to start thrusting. Bucky hovered over you, putting his arms on either side of your head and started thrusting. His pace was slow and loving, something you both love. You put your hands on his back, feeling his muscles flex each time he thrusted into you.

“You feel amazing, doll.” Bucky softly moans in your ear.

You moaned when he said that. You dug your nails in his skin, leaving red line marks on his back. Bucky hissed at the feeling. He loves the feeling of you marking him up with your nails and you know it too. He also likes showing off the scratches you leave on his back when he’s training.

Bucky dipped his head down to kiss and mark up your neck even more. Your hands started to roam his body on their own accord. Your hands found their place on his ass and gave it a squeeze. Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. He didn’t mind one bit. He likes it when you get handsy. He likes to tease you about it too.

“You’re getting handsy, aren’t you, doll face?” Bucky teasingly said.

“More.” Is all you said. “I want more.” You whined.

“As you wish, babydoll. My doll gets what she wants.” He says.

Bucky readjusted himself and spread your legs wider and began fucking you at a faster pace. Your hands slowly moved from his ass to his back. You threw your head back against the pillow in pleasure. It felt like you were on cloud nine. Bucky looked down at you, admiring how pretty you look with his cock in you and when pleasure takes over you within seconds.

“Oh yes, Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

“That’s a good girl.” Bucky praises. “Keep moaning my name. Let everyone in this fucking compound know who you belong to.” He says, sounding a tiny bit possessive.

Bucky readjusted himself again, putting your leg over his shoulder, which gave him a new angle. A loud moan fell from your lips when Bucky’s cock hit your sweet spot perfectly.

“Right there!” You moaned. “Please don’t stop!” You whined.

“Don’t worry, babydoll. I fucking won’t.” He growls.

Bucky’s thrusts drive into you faster, fucking you at the perfect speed. His cock was hitting all of the right places. His vibranium hand reached in between the two of you to rub your clit. You gasped when you felt the cool vibranium touching your clit.

“Yea, you like that, don’t you, doll?” Bucky almost whispers. “You like my vibranium fingers playing with your little clit, don’t you?” He says, almost in a cooing voice.

You moaned and nodded your head yes in response. His dirty words always get you going. Your nails dug more in his skin when he hit your sweet spot at the perfect angle. You felt your orgasm build up pleasurably. It felt like a tidal wave was about to come crashing down on you.

“I can feel you getting close, doll.” Bucky grunts softly when your pussy squeezed his cock. “Cum for me.” He says.

That was enough for you to fall over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and his name fell from your lips as you came. Bucky fucked you through your orgasm and gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm.

His right hand found its place on your thigh and kept it there, giving it a squeeze. His orgasm wasn’t too far behind yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He moans.

He finally came, coming inside of you and painting your walls with his cum. A white ring of yours and his cum formed at the base of his cock. Bucky’s thrusts came to a slow stop. You two gazed at each other breathlessly before he put your leg back on the bed and pulled out of you.

He laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. You moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest and your leg on top of his leg. Bucky reached a hand down, holding onto your thigh and rubbing his thumb against your soft skin.

“That was amazing.” You said after a short moment.

“It was.” Bucky agrees. “It’s always the best way to start the day.” He says.

You hummed in agreement and leaned up to kiss his lips softly and sweetly.

“I love you, babydoll.” He says in almost a whisper.

“I love you too, baby.” You say softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[milfsloverblog]

Is It Casual Now ?

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: To whoever requested this from me, your request was anonymous so I can’t tag you and for some reason Tumblr wouldn’t let me answer directly to your ask 🥲 I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, I’ve had Casual stuck in my head for days now hahaha!

You never meant to stay this long.

It was supposed to be one night. Maybe two. A private indulgence. A whispered secret between silk sheets and stolen time. Larissa made it easy to pretend—her words velvet-soft, her hands knowing, her body impossibly warm in the quiet dark.

You told yourself you wouldn’t linger. And yet, here you are again, weeks later, lying in her bed while dawn tries to crawl its way through the blackout curtains.

She’s still asleep. Or pretending to be.

Your head rests against her shoulder, eyes fixed on the steady rise and fall of her chest. You breathe her in—something expensive and floral with a trace of vanilla—and wonder if it clings to all her lovers, or just you.

She shifts beneath you, her arm instinctively pulling you closer. The movement is gentle, practiced. Comforting. And yet, you can’t tell if it means anything.

You want it to.

“I should go,” you whisper, though you don’t move. You say it every morning. It's become part of the ritual, like the quiet sex and her occasional smirk when you stumble over your words, trying not to sound too eager.

Larissa hums, eyes still closed. “Mmm. Why rush?”

There’s that voice. Satin and command in equal measure. You’d do anything to hear it say something real—something just for you.

“I’ve got class in an hour,” you murmur, letting yourself linger just a little longer. You never mean to, but she makes it so easy to stay. You tuck your face into the crook of her neck. “I think the other teachers are starting to notice I’m always tired on Tuesdays.”

A faint smile curves her lips. “Let them wonder.”

You laugh, a small sound, but there’s something fragile beneath it. You don’t want to wonder. You want to know. You want to ask questions you don’t have the right to ask.

Do you sleep like this with everyone?
Do you think of me when I’m not here?
Is this more than nothing, or am I just pretending it is?

But you don’t ask. You never do.

Instead, you press a soft kiss to her throat and let her hold you like you matter. Like you’re more than warm skin and temporary comfort. Like maybe—just maybe—she wants you here too.

You let the silence stretch. You pretend it means something.

The warmth of Larissa’s bed still clings to your skin when you step into the halls of Nevermore, but reality is already cooling it.

You tell yourself not to expect anything. That it’s fine—normal, even—that she hasn’t texted. That she didn’t kiss you goodbye when you left her office this morning. That she only ever kisses you in private.

Still, when you catch sight of her at the end of the corridor, a quiet, nervous kind of anticipation stirs in your chest. Will she look at me? Will she smile?

You don’t expect her to rush to your side or whisper something meant only for you. But maybe—maybe—she’ll acknowledge you with something softer than professionalism.

But Larissa Weems is all business now. Immaculate in her pressed suit, clipboard in hand, speaking in hushed tones to a board member.

She doesn’t even glance your way.

You try to ignore the sting of it. The way it makes you feel like last night was something you imagined, like the weight of her hands on your skin, the sigh of your name in the dark, meant nothing at all.

You swallow it down.

You’re an adult. You knew what you were getting into.

Still, something bitter settles under your tongue when she turns slightly, offering the board member that smile—the poised, charming one, full of effortless grace. The kind that makes people feel special.

It shouldn’t bother you.

Except it does.

The board member laughs, and Larissa places a hand on his arm in that effortless, casual way she has, a gesture so smooth it might as well be instinct. You wonder if she even realizes she does it. If she touches everyone like that.

If she’s ever touched you like that outside of her bedroom.

Your stomach twists.

She’s not doing anything wrong. Not really. You remind yourself that whatever this is between you—whatever it isn’t—has no rules. No promises. You’re the one who stayed, the one who crawled into her bed again and again, the one who let hope creep into your ribs like a sickness.

Still, when Larissa finally walks past you, eyes skimming over you without even a flicker of recognition, it feels like a slap to the face.

And the worst part?

You don’t even think she notices.

You don’t bring it up right away.

You tell yourself it was nothing—just a moment. A busy morning. She probably didn’t see you. She probably wouldn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of a board member. It’s not personal.

You repeat that to yourself all day.

But it keeps echoing.

She looked right through me.

Later, back in her office, the air is different. Quieter. Dimmer. The curtains are drawn and the fire crackles softly. She’s taken off her heels. Her hair is down.

Here, you’re not a stranger.

Here, she looks at you like she knows you.

She pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, brushing her fingers along yours in that way she always does. She’s graceful about it, as if affection is something she gives you in curated, elegant doses.

You watch her sink into the couch, legs crossed, wineglass balanced delicately in her hand. Her eyes flick to yours. “You’re frowning.”

You hadn’t realized you were.

“I saw you today,” you say, quiet.

Larissa raises a brow. “Yes?”

“In the hall. You walked right past me.”

A beat.

She tilts her head, feigning thought. “I must have been preoccupied.”

You nod slowly. Sip your wine. Pretend it doesn’t sting. “You were talking to the board.”

“Yes.” She says it like a full stop. No elaboration. No apology.

You set your glass down, fingers tightening on your knee. “Do you ever think it’s strange? That we act like we don’t know each other at all during the day?”

Her gaze flickers, just briefly. “I assumed you preferred it that way.”

You blink. “Why would you assume that?”

She shrugs, ever so slightly. “I thought you valued discretion.”

“I do,” you say, a little too fast. “But discretion’s not the same as pretending we’re strangers.”

Larissa leans back against the cushions, studying you now—calm, unreadable. “What is it you want from me, exactly?”

You freeze.

It’s not the question itself—it’s the way she asks it. Like you’re the one who’s overstepping. Like this is a negotiation and you’ve just asked for too much.

“I don’t know,” you admit, softer now. “Something that doesn’t make me feel... invisible.”

She sighs—tired, not annoyed, but not gentle either. “You knew what this was.”

You nod. You did.

But that doesn’t make it hurt less.

You don’t go to her that night.

Or the next.

It isn’t some grand, dramatic decision—you don’t throw your phone into the sea or draft a final message you’ll never send. You just stop reaching out. You sit with the ache. Let it settle in your ribs like something dull and heavy.

And she does nothing.

No text. No knock at your door.

Maybe you were wrong to think she’d notice. Maybe this was always how it was meant to be—you, orbiting her, mistaking gravity for something reciprocal.

But on the third day, there’s a knock at your door.

Your heart stutters.

You consider pretending you’re not home. You consider waiting, letting her leave, letting yourself believe she was never really here at all.

But you open the door.

She’s standing there, one hand resting on the frame, looking as put-together as ever. But there’s something softer in her expression, something almost hesitant.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Her voice is smooth as ever, but there’s a question in it.

You swallow. “I’ve been busy.”

She hums, tilting her head slightly. “Too busy for me?”

Your throat tightens. “I thought you might appreciate the space.”

“Space,” she repeats, like it’s a foreign concept.

Like she never once considered that you’d pull away first.

She steps inside without waiting for an invitation, her perfume enveloping you, and suddenly it feels like every ounce of distance you put between you has collapsed in a breath.

Her fingers trail along your wrist—not grabbing, not holding, just there. A tether.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs. “Give me space.”

Your stomach twists.

Because she says it so softly, like she means it. Like it’s you who created this distance, like she would have reached for you if only you had let her.

Like this is still something real.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Larissa—”

She lifts your hand, pressing it to her lips. The kiss is barely there, the kind that makes you want to chase it.

“Stay,” she says simply. A single, quiet request.

You can’t stay quiet anymore.

You don’t even mean to say it—it just comes out. The words tumble from your mouth like they’ve been waiting behind your teeth for far too long, desperate to escape.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say, your voice tight. “I can’t keep pretending this is fine.”

Larissa’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You’re making something out of nothing,” she says, like this is just another one of your moods, another one of your moments that will pass when she’s done with it.

But you can’t let it go. Not this time.

“You know what you’re doing.” The words hit the air between you like glass shattering. “You’ve been playing with me—using me—and I don’t even know why I let it go on this long.”

Her expression remains unreadable, but the flicker of something dangerous moves through her eyes. You’ve seen that look before—when she’s about to shut you down.

But you’re not backing down this time.

“You’ve made it clear that I’m just… convenient for you,” you spit out, your breath catching in your chest. “And I’ve been stupid enough to believe that I meant more to you than that.”

Larissa doesn’t flinch. Her gaze is cool, calculating, almost too calm. “You’re overreacting.”

“No,” you snap. “You don’t get to tell me that. You don’t get to pretend like this means nothing when I can feel it. I can feel the way you pull me in, and then push me away. Every damn time.”

Her jaw tightens. She moves slowly, deliberately, her movements sharp and controlled. “I never made any promises to you.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in your ears. “And I never asked for any. But I was stupid enough to think that this—” you gesture between the two of you, “—was something real. That you cared. That I meant something.”

Larissa’s gaze hardens. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh, I know,” you retort, feeling the sharp edge of her words cut through you like a blade. “I know. I thought this was casual—no strings attached, right? But I was wrong. I’m not some passing moment for you, am I? You wanted me to be casual—just another distraction—while I fell for you.”

Larissa’s face tightens at the implication. She steps toward you, her presence overwhelming. But you’re not backing down.

“I was the one who didn’t know any better, right?” you continue, your words growing more heated with every beat. “You’re the one who’s never been clear about what you wanted. Casual, right? That’s what you told me over and over. But I should have known that was just the line you fed me to make it easier to walk away when you were done.”

The words feel like acid in your throat, but they burn with truth.

“You were never casual, Larissa,” you say, a sudden intensity rising in your chest. “I thought I was—thought I was just another face you’d forget. But I’m not. Not now. Not when I’ve let you twist everything I thought we were.”

Larissa doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, it’s like she’s frozen in place. There’s a shift in the air, something almost imperceptible, as though she’s finally seeing you for the first time in this whole mess. But it’s too little, too late.

You take a step forward, the anger building in your chest, but it’s mixed with the sting of realization. “You never cared about me the way I cared about you. You were always so damn careful to not care. I was never more than a moment, wasn’t I? You were never going to be mine, Larissa. And you let me believe I could have you.”

Her lips press together tightly, but she still doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you dare her. “Tell me this was just casual for you. That it was just some game you were playing with me.”

Her eyes flick to the side briefly—then back to you, her gaze sharp and cold. “It was never a game. But you made it more than it was.”

“I didn’t make anything,” you bite out. “You used me, and I let you. You told me to keep it casual, but I wasn’t the one who needed it. You were. And now, it’s me who’s left holding all these pieces, trying to make sense of what the hell happened.”

She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, and her voice is icy. “It’s your fault for reading into something that was never there.”

“Is that it?” you ask, laughter bubbling up bitterly. “Is that all I was? Just someone you could use when it was convenient? You really don’t care, do you?”

Larissa opens her mouth to respond, but you can’t hear it anymore. The words you’ve been too afraid to admit are crashing through your thoughts, unrelenting. You’ve been fighting so hard to convince yourself that this wasn’t a mistake, that maybe she cared about you even just a little. But now—now you see the truth, clear as day.

“I see it now,” you say quietly, stepping away from her, the words breaking your heart as you speak them. “I was just a distraction. And you don’t even have the decency to tell me I’m wrong. You let me fall for you, and when I finally do care, when I finally say enough, you’ll just turn away like you always do.”

Her face is unreadable now, but you know her well enough to see the tiniest flicker of something—guilt, maybe? But it’s gone in an instant.

“You don’t get to make me the villain here,” she says, the edge of her voice cutting through your chest like a jagged knife.

“Maybe I don’t,” you reply, “but you sure as hell made me feel like one. You made me feel like I was too much, too needy, like I was asking for too much. And I was—I was asking for something real. But you were just… playing with me, weren’t you?”

Her eyes flicker, and for a second, just a second, you think she might say something. Apologize, maybe, or at least try to explain herself.

But then she looks away. “I’m not sorry.”

And that’s it.

The final cut.

She turns on her heel, walking out without another word. The silence that follows is deafening, suffocating, and you can feel your chest tighten with every step she takes away from you.

The letter you write that night isn’t long.

You don’t see the point in making it poetic. You’ve said everything already—screamed it, cried it, bled it out on the floor of your quarters. This isn’t about drama now. It’s about survival. About reclaiming the parts of yourself that she tried to keep casual.

No, that’s not fair.

You were the one who believed her when she said it.

Still, you leave the resignation letter on her desk the next morning. Just a single sheet of paper folded neatly in half. Your name signed at the bottom with a shaking hand.

You pause for a moment in her office, the silence thick with everything unsaid. Her perfume lingers faintly in the room, floral and cold, like a memory that won’t wash off.

You don’t look around. You don’t need to. You know this place too well—its perfection, its elegance. The way she kept everything beautiful and just out of reach.

Kind of like her.

You take the long way out of Nevermore. Past the classrooms, past the rows of windows that once glowed warm when she waited for you. Past the hallway where she used to pull you aside with a smirk and a whisper, asking if you could stay a little later.

You remember the butterflies. The heat. The way she’d kiss you like you were the only thing that mattered—until the morning after, when you were nothing again. Just someone she kept in the dark, hidden beneath carefully measured glances and vague promises.

You walk past it all, and for once, you don’t stop.

Not even when you see her.

She’s standing at the top of the stairs, spine straight, arms crossed in that perfectly controlled way she always carries herself. Her eyes find yours, sharp as ever, unreadable. And for a split second, time stalls.

She knows.

Of course she knows. She’s already read it. Or maybe she hasn’t yet, but she always knew this was coming. She just didn’t care enough to stop it.

You hold her gaze for a heartbeat longer than you should, hoping—desperately, foolishly—that she’ll say something.

Anything.

But she doesn’t.

She just watches you. Stoic. Cold. Silent.

Like you were never more than a passing moment. Like none of it mattered.

And maybe that’s the truth you needed.

You turn without a word.

No dramatic exit. No tears. Just the quiet click of your shoes on the stone floor as you leave it all behind—her, Nevermore, the hollow ache of wanting something that was never yours to begin with.

Outside, the sky is heavy with clouds, the kind that feel like they’re holding something back. You don’t bring an umbrella. Let it rain. Let it soak through your coat and into your bones. Let it feel like something.

Anything is better than the numbness.

You don’t look back.
You’ve already done that too many times.

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel l , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr r , @winterfireblond @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @spacetoaim22 @vendocrap8008 8 @jkregal l @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @mirandaswife @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

[hongjoongtime117]

Dinner and Dessert

Paring: Jeong Yunho/Reader

Genre: SMUT (MDNI 18+)

Word Count: 963

Warnings: fingering, oral (F receiving), sex at parents house, almost caught, as always, let me known if I forgot anything!

Author’s Notes: this was a request from @mountquokka, I hope you enjoyyyy! 😁

Tag List: @arki-sha @ghostlovesworld @mingi-s-dimples

“I’m still starving, love,” he growls into your ear as he has you bent over the cool counter in your parent’s small bathroom. He leans over you to place heated kisses to your neck, and you can feel his hardening cock pressed against you. 

“Yunho, we can’t! My parents will hear us!” your breath is already quickening due to his intensity. 

“Then I guess you better be a good girl and keep quiet while I satiate my hunger, hmm?” he whispers into the shell of your ear before nibbling the lobe, eliciting a small whimper from you. 

His enormous, veiny hands reach around to make quick work of the button and zipper of your pants, one of the final barriers between him and his second meal. He impatiently pulls down your jeans and panties in one smooth movement, tossing them aside carelessly..

“Stay nice and quiet, baby. You know I don’t like when my meals are interrupted,” his voice rough and dangerous, sending chills down your spine. 

He swipes two long digits between your folds, feeling how wet you are. “The thrill of being caught with my face buried in your pussy turning you on, my love?” You bow forward even further, a choked moan leaving your chest, as you give a small nod. 

He drops to his knees behind you and spreads you open, licking his heart shaped lips hungrily. He licks a purposeful path from your clit to your gushing hole, a groan rumbling from deep in his chest at the taste of you. “Fuck, you always taste so good.”

A small whimper rises from your throat at his deep voice vibrating against your folds. “You love this, don’t you baby?” Not waiting for a response, he plunges his tongue deep inside, making your toes curl.

“Mmm, fuck Yunho.” Your knuckles turn white from the death grip you have on the counter. 

As he continues tongue fucking you relentlessly, his expert fingers find your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving you just the right amount of friction to have your head spinning. The fire in your gut has started to simmer.

He unlatches from you for a moment, and you whine at the loss of his warm mouth. “Let me get a little more comfortable, my love.” He fully seats himself and rests his back against the cupboard, reacquainting his mouth with your pussy.

He tongues your clit, and slides two lithe fingers inside your clenching hole, curling them to hit your sweet spot. Your legs tremble under his ministrations, and you can feel his cocky smirk against your heat. 

You can’t help the filthy noises that are pouring out of you, and the lewd sounds from Yunho lapping at your pussy are only growing louder. Another curl of his practiced fingers has the fire in your gut roaring. 

“Yunho, please,” you beg, not exactly sure what for. You’re so close to cumming all over your boyfriend's pretty face. But there’s a sudden soft knock on the door. 

Your panicked face looks down at Yunho between your legs, his pace never faltering. He looks at you with hooded eyes, and quirks an eyebrow. 

“YN, is everything ok?” your mother asks.

Yunho abuses the spongy spot inside of you and pops off your clit to whisper “You better answer your mother, baby.” He returns to your cunt with renewed effort, attempting to make you cum all over his face with your mother on the other side of the door. 

You do your best to compose yourself enough to give your mother a convincing answer. “I-I’m f-f-fine. I just wasn’t f-f-feeling well, so Yunho came to t-take care of m-me!” Your voice coming out in breathy, choppy words. 

Yunho’s fingers quicken as your mother remains on the other side of the door. “He’s such a great boyfriend, isn’t he YN? Always takes good care of you. I know you’re in good hands.” 

Yeah, really great, giant, veiny hands, that are currently fucking you right towards the teetering edge of your release. 

“Yes, hes great! You can go, everything’s fine!” Your voice comes out high pitched, whiny, and strained. You were sure you weren’t very convincing, but there’s no further conversation.

At the same time you hear her footsteps begin to recede, Yunho gently nibbles your clit and presses hard once more against your sweet spot, and the fire engulfs you.

You cum hard all over his fingers and pretty face, legs giving out and vision blurring, chanting Yunho’s name like a spell, and Yunho lowers you onto his lap. 

“Mmm, you did so good my love,” he praises as he places tender kisses on your face and neck. 

“You could have given me a moment when my MOTHER was at the door!” You lightly smack his shoulder.

“Love, I told you I don’t like being interrupted during my meals, and I meant it. Maybe you should be a little quieter next time, hmm?” If you weren’t still trembling from the aftershocks, you would have wiped that little smirk right off his face.

“Oh, fuck you, Yunho!”

“I mean, right now? Because I’m pretty sure if your mother didn’t know what happened just now, if I fuck you, she certainly will. You make such pretty noises with my dick buried inside you. And I’d want to hear every last one of them.”

“Jesus Christ, Yu. No, not right now.” You snuggle into his neck, trying to hide your heated face, full of embarrassment. “But let’s make ourselves decent, because we’re going to say goodbye to my parents, and you’re taking me home to finish what you started.” 

“Gladly,” he purrs as he places soft kisses to your lips and moves to get the two of you off the floor to bid farewell to your hosts. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm going to be starting my advent drabbles for December today so enjoy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You moan at the firm swirl of fingertips against your temples. Lloyd’s hands are so big and warm that they soothe the virulent pulsing, just enough. Your toes curl and you push your skull into his grasp as you sink into the bed. 

“See, Pixie, not too bad, huh?” He purrs. You groan. He needs to just shut up. “I’ve been told I have very skilled hands, you know?” 

“Lloyd, please,” you mutter. 

“Please what? You want more?” He taunts and rocks his hips so his crotch rubs against your stomach. 

You try to shake your head but can’t in his grip. You swat his knee and grumble, “not that.” 

“Ah, come on, pixie, I can be quick but efficient,” grazes his nails over your scalp and you shudder at the cool sensation it sends through your hot skull. “You got goosebumps. I’m getting you there.” 

“No...” you murmur. 

“Mmm, yes. You don’t gotta do nothing. I’ll lick you like popsicle and you’ll melt--’ 

You flick your eyes open as a twinge pinches in your core. That’s not because of him. It’s just your biology responding to the physical stimulation. A dollar store massage pad could do the same thing. You grab his wrists and narrow your eyes. 

“Stop. I’m too tired and miserable--” you whimper at the effort it takes to speak, “to keep arguing with you.” 

“So don’t. Just let daddy Lloyd take over, baby cakes.” 

“Daddy Lloyd?” You hiss and wince at the rattle in your skull. “You’re disgusting.” 

“And you’re just like jelly in my hands. How about this, pixie dust, you just try to stop me. I think that will be fun.” He slackens his hold on your head and caresses your cheeks. Another shiver rolls over you. 

Your hands brush over his as he glides past easily. He tickles your neck and you squirm as he moves back slightly. He walks his fingers along your shoulders then grips them tightly, pushing his thumbs into your muscles. You nearly choke as you feel the tension dislodge as he kneads. 

You put your hand on his stomach and let out a wispy noise. Oh. No. It’s not that good. Oh but it is. 

“See, baby, just a toy for good boy Lloyd,” he slithers. 

You take and breath and curl your fingertips in the muscles of his torso. You’re no virgin, not some untouched nun, but it’s been as while and the feel of warm flesh plucks something deep in you. That tugging is just as much an adversary as the man who has you pinned to the bed. 

Lloyd’s fingertips continue to rub, and roll, and raze your skin. He shifts his hands along your chest and drags them over the rise of your tits. He gropes you through your bra. You bare your teeth and latch onto his middle fingers as you try to peel him away. 

“No, Lloyd--” 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you. 

He raises himself slightly on his knees and slips his hands away from your doughy flesh. He puts his elbows on either side of you, using them to support his weight as he spreads himself over you. Panic swells as you’re trapped under his tall figure. He slips his hands free and frames your sides instead, dipping his head down to bury between your cleavage. 

“Nope!” Your adrenaline spikes, and the yelp reverberates in your head like the clang of a bell. “Lloyd, no! You’re not—Ayeeeee.” 

He bites into the meat of your tit and you hit the top his head. He doesn’t react, only sinking his teeth deeper with a growl. You grab the longer strands of his hair and yank meanly. He grunts and recoils, leaving a throbbing imprint on you. 

“Ow! Don’t fuck with my hair, Pix--” 

“I’m telling you to stop--” You push yourself up on one elbow. 

“You’re moaning like a neglected housewife while you’re doing it. It’s a bit confusing--” 

“Is the word no that unclear to—you,” you put your hand to your forehead at the tick above your eye. You grit your teeth and snarl. 

“I’m trying to help you. Can’t you see that?” He shoves you back down. “I’m not going to put it in, promise. I just want a taste of the pixie pie--” 

He moves back to kneel between your legs. As he grips your hips and holds you down, your anger overwhelms that worrying tingle in your thighs. He bends as his fingertips curl under your panties and you bring your knee up into his ribcage. 

He coughs and pushes himself away. He touches his side and hisses, “Goddamnit.” 

“My head’s about to split and you’re trying to--” you gulp back the words as your cloudy dismay clears to horror. What was he going to do? How far was he going to go? 

“Babe, my balls are about to split open,” he whines. “I was only going to be nice. Get you a little O before the big flight.” 

You stare at him. Who the hell is this man? This isn’t Mr. Hansen and his curt emails and short commands. This isn’t the man who wanted his coffee with a single cream and his daily calendar colour coded. This is an animal. 

Ugh, you knew better than to blur the line of personal and professional. Too bad, he doesn’t. Two million dollars. That little chant is not as encouraging the further you get into this, especially as you realise, this is only the beginning. 

“Come on, baby, we can do it all over the clothes--” 

“Get away from me,” you sit up with a huff, your whole body rebelling at the effort. “I have enough to worry about without you all over me.” 

“Aw, please,” his eyes fall to your chest and flicker. You look down and sigh, one of your nipples peeking out above the bra cup. You fix it and shove him again. “Even the girls are tryna get out--” 

“Sleep on the floor,” you sneer as you turn your legs over the edge of the bed. You stand and go to your bag, unzipping it as you nearly topple over. Your head is a maelstrom. You take out a loose tee and leggings and quickly dress. 

As you turn back, Lloyd watches you with a pout. It’s disarming how he can go from pathetic to putrid and predatory. You near the bed and go around the other side. You take a pillow and throw it at his back. He sighs and stands up. He ignores the pillow and pulls back the blanket. 

“No--” 

“Hey, promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he snaps. “I’m not sleeping on the damn floor. I’m still your boss, Pixie, remember that.” 

You don’t say anything. That’s the Mr. Hansen you know. Demanding. Stubborn. You turn your back to him and stretch out on your side. You cling to the corner of the pillow and close your eyes. 

His weight jostles behind you. He groans and the bed shifts as he leans over. The light shuts off and you nearly sigh at the relief. 

He lays back but doesn’t relax. He fidgets. Tossing and turning, one way then the other. Adjusting the pillows, tugging on the blanket, bouncing the springs. You chew on the urge to bark at him to stop. 

Finally, he stops. You exhale and try to ease your muscles. The tension only feeds the migraine. You focus on your breathing as you try to coax yourself back to sleep. You feel yourself slipping, further and further. A soft drone rises in your ears, rhythmic but harried. 

“Mmm,” the hum breaks through your bubble and frustration sparks in your chest. You were almost asleep. “Mm, yeah, that’s....” Lloyd raspy voice drawls into the darkness between shallow grunts, “fuck--” 

The shaking of the bed spikes your heartbeat. You open your eyes and frown. What is he doing? Is he--” 

“Lloyd!” You spin onto your back and sit up, “Lloyd, stop that--” 

“Fuck yeah, say my name,” he strokes himself furiously. You can vaguely see how the blanket jumps around his frantic motion. “Come on, I’m almost there.” 

“You’re--” 

“Told you,” he groans and pushes his feet into his bed, his knees bend under the blanket, “keeping my hands--- to myself.” 

“Oh, god!” You turn and leap out of bed, stumbling. “Lloyd, you’re disgusting. Nasty--” 

“Keep it coming, pix, it’s helping--” 

“Ew!” You grab the pillow and twist away, stomping out, “absolutely gross!” 

“Ah, yeah, fuck, baby! Thank you....” he voice peters out as you slam the bathroom door, flicking the lock into place. 

You wince at the impact against the frame and sway in the dark. You throw the pillow into the tub and grab the robe hung on the back of the door. Fuck it. You give up. You don’t even want to sleep anymore, you just want to be left alone. 

❄️

Your alarm wakes you through the wall. You’re stiff and sore, but your migraine has relented. The few hours were enough to push it back to a tenuous shadow. One wrong move and it’ll be back. 

You climb out of the tub and turn on the shower. You wash quickly, minding the time, and get ready in the mirror, wearing the same robe you slept under. You emerge to the rocky snoring. You turn on all the lights but Lloyd remains unbothered. 

You grab clothes, a black turtleneck and the same shade of cigarette pants. You dress in the bathroom then zip up your toiletry pouch. You come out to shove it into your suitcase and scour the room for anything forgotten.  

As a final touch, you return to the bathroom and take one of the paper cups and fill it. You go quietly to the bed and tip it over Lloyd’s naked back, exposed above above the messy blankets. He squeals and bounces to life, flipping over as the rest of him is revealed to the room. You avert your eyes at his nakedness. 

“What the fuck?” He snarls sleepily, “what are you doing?” 

“Time to get up, Lloydy poo,” you clap at him. “We got a plane to catch.” 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” 

“What? I'm helping you wake up. Like a good wife, right?” 

He goes to argue then hesitates. He moves the blankets and coughs. He blinks and rubs his eyes. “What time is it?” 

“Well, it’s time enough. You have thirty minutes to get it together, babykins.” 

He winces at your tone. He stares at you as you grin. He moves cautiously toward the edge of the bed. 

“What’s... you did something?” 

“No,” you answer flatly. 

“But...” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“I’m just playing my part,” you say. “Like we agreed. Not everyone is morally debunked like you, my beloved.” 

“Stop it,” he says. 

“Stop what, my manly man. The twinkle in my eye. My other half.” 

“All of that. I don’t like how you’re saying it,” he stands and hides his crotch with his hands. 

“Stop? Oh, teddy bear, we don’t know that word, do we? Stop? What could that possibly mean?” 

“Alright, I get it. You’re mad about last night--” 

“I’m not mad, sweetie, I’m concerned because if you don’t get yourself together, we’re going to miss another flight and if I miss this flight, well, I think I might just lose my mind,” you smile, “you don’t want that now, do you, snookums.” 

“You...” he turns back to you, “you’re a bit deranged sometimes.” 

“Speak for yourself, sugar,” you march up to him, your anger fuming like smog in your nostrils, and you pinch his naked ass. “Get into gear,” your voice deepens, “now.” 

He yelps and pulls away. He looks at you like he’s been splashed with cold water a second time and he swallows tightly. His brows arch as he gapes at you. He keeps one hand over his pelvis and reaches back to rub his ass. 

“Damn, Pixie,” he finally backs off, “you’re something else.” 

“I’m exhausted and I’m annoyed, so don’t push me.” You warn him. 

“Yeah, well, better get this all out now. I’m sure the family doesn’t need you spoiling the holiday cheer.” 

“Me?” You hiss. 

He blanches, “I meant... er...” 

“Go,” you snap your fingers and put your back to him. “I gotta get all this in the car.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says and you listen to him retreat into the bathroom. 

You get your bags to the door then grab your boots and jacket. Your agitation buzzes just under your skin. You have the flight to rein it in. It won’t be easy like Lloyd’s family. They don’t know you, so you can pretend with them. But your family, well, you are related to them. You share quite a few traits. 

And Lloyd. You can’t have him running round like some goblin wreaking havoc. This whole thing is his idea and yet he doesn’t seem to know the script. He’s unpredictable and uncontrollable. He’s not the type your family would expect. That’s because he isn’t your type. Never in a million years would you choose him. 

You take your bags down to the car and return to the hotel room. Lloyd is half-dressed. A pair of lamb grey pants on as he pulls on a white turtleneck with a silver emblem on the left side of his chest. The clothes won’t help the theatrics. 

You gather up his clothes from the day before. You shove them into his large suitcase. “Is that everything?” 

“I think, I just have my essentials,” he says. “Gotta style the love stache.” 

“Go,” you wave him away. 

“Thank you, honey boo, I know. I do look handsome in this, don’t I?” He taunts. You look at him with all the lack of sleep and rage festering in you from the last two days. He recoils and puts his palms up, “right, I’ll doll myself up.” 

You wait for him to disappear back into the bathroom before you drag his bags to the door. You’ll leave them there so he can pack away whatever else he has out. You go to the bed and sit, running your hands over your face. 

This isn’t just about getting through today. After the bullshit he promised his family, this is going to be months of torment. You don’t know if you have the willpower to put up with him for that long. 

[yoru-no-seiiki]

tagging @onyanjune and @h0ly-l3mb for giving me the idea/motivation to do this lol

link to original post here

tw/cw: MDNI or you WILL be blocked, DDDNE, (skip for spoilers) yandere! reader, mentioned non/dub con, mentioned filming of said non/dubcon.

yan! cool kid has two siblings, your upperclassman and underclassman respectively. and it hella irritates him how close you are to the two.

ofc yan! reader’s intentions have and will always be depraved yearning. they only befriended the pair for the sake of “getting close to the in-laws.” after all you wouldn’t be a good future spouse if you weren’t somewhat involved in the family side of things.

but your tunnel vision sort of . . . backfired.

“quite a bunch of lunches you’re packing.” he mumbled, raising his head from his arms after a thorough nap through class. he had already studied everything that subject had to offer and thoroughly memorized it thanks to his notes that were covered in photos of you.

“oh these? these aren’t just for me, silly.” you answered. he already knew what you were planning, and you already knew that he knew, but keeping this façade of normalcy was a game you two liked to play, “you haven’t been bringing food to school recently i’ve noticed. so i made some more to share.”

“just one?”

you blinked at him, confused. laughing after you realize where his eyes were focused on. you explain that the rest will be going to his siblings, since you thought it may be a household / financial problem.

soon after that you took off, trying your best to hide the giddy feeling in your body threatening to spill unto your facial expressions.

yan! cool kid stares at his brand new lunch and wonders if you also cut out heart shaped potato for their curries, planning out ways to torture yan! loser later

yan! loser who’s yan! cool kid’s younger brother. they look so different, their demeanors even further apart. the only way you knew they were related was cause you stalked the latter on his way back home and almost killed the former before you found out.

you dropped by his class with a smile. his classmates staring at you with wide eyes as those in higher levels rarely ever go to this section of school.

“i hope you don’t mind, but i made lunch for you. is that okay?”

“is ThaT okAy?” he parroted back at you, his voice cracking, nerves on edge at all the people staring at the situation. he was going to eat lunch alone in the bathroom again like always but was occupied with erasing the marks left by his bullies on the table.

you laugh at his response, and set the lunch you prepared on his table.

you stare blankly at the brutal remarks written across. silently you walked outside before coming back with a spare table. you frown as the food you left remained untouched.

“you should eat first. lunch won’t last forever.”

you pat the poor boy’s back and left.

one last delivery til you were done.

you breathed in, knocking the door to the student council’s room. “mr. president, it’s me.”

“come in.”

yan! school president doesn’t even raise his head to look at you. his focus remaining on the papers in his hand and table. “leave the lunchbox there.” the bespectacled man points to your table in the room.

you set it down obediently and walked out. at least, you tried to until he stops you. “before you go, tell me why i shouldn’t report your actions to the faculty.”

you don’t turn around from the door, but still you answer, “hm, actions?”

“you, using school funds to pay for my youngest brother’s harassment.”

“…mmm…” you turned around, placing a hand on your chin in feigned deep thought “because . . . you love love love me?”

yan! president sighed. you hear paper shredding.

“you may go.”

you giggled. stepping outside of the stuffy room to go finally see your beloved again in class.

you put a hand in your pocket and fished out your phone. briefly smiling at the home screen wallpaper of yan! cool kid and quickly tapping out the password.

you then delete the video of yan! president tying you up as his unclothed hips slammed into yours. your skin covered in bites and slap marks all over. your eyes converging fear as tears fell and your mouth was gagged and unable to voice the feeling. the once prim and proper man man groaning in ecstasy and yelling words of degradation as he defiled you.

but you could only cringed at the words “i love you.” escaping his lips.

“a little reward for mercy i suppose.”

you stuff your phone back into your pocket. wondering if you should also warn him about the laxatives.

[solar4seekstron]

I have a funny little one for TFA so we all know how bumblebee is like the smallest bot compared to everyone right so what if he had a conjux or crush that was smaller than him like he teases them and stuff but still loves affection to them (if you make them femme that be great if not gn is good too 👍)

That’s so cute I’ll definitely give it a try. And the reason I do GN is because I want all different genders to enjoy my work. Male, Nonbinary, and Female lol.

Smaller

TFA!Bumblebee x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot

Content: SFW

Introduction Movies/Series Oneshot Masterlist

TW/Tags: Just Bee being best boi.

Bee has been a part of Team Prime for a pretty good while. He joined because he wished to stick with his pal Bulkhead. And his lovely Conjunx. A small but well built and pretty strong he was able to get to become his Conjunx by pure luck, at least that’s what he yelled himself. Joins them as well.

Someone he just asked out one day at the academy and ever since then. You both never separated. Even despite many other short bots like wasp and the twins who tried to court you.

Good thing too. Going with Bee is the best choice you could’ve ever made. He always made you smile and brought you cheer even when you were supposed to be mad at him. You always stood up for him and comforted him. He always made sure to be affectionate with you. Like holding you and giving you forhelm kisses. The only times he’d not care about how he looked and how others saw him.

You know it’s to show he truly loves you for who you are. As you show how you love him for who he is. You two are basically the ideal couple in the team. Ratchet even saying that only once. Bringing Bee and Ratchet a little closer. Making both you and Optimus happy.

It’s been a good while since you all started living on the planet earth with Sari. Sari always liked hanging out with you since you were the smallest.

Often at times when you and Bee would be sitting on the couch watching TV Sari would walk in and sit on your lap almost like a little child. Sometimes Bee didn’t mind. But if he was feeling a bit “frisky” that moment or day. yeah he’d get annoyed but say nothing.

Your bond always comforting him even when you guys weren’t in battle. Every time there was a close call you guys always stayed close together. You even dressed up as Bee bride for Halloween when he went as a vampire.

Bee is always affectionate with you. And as you are with him. Deposited your size.

The others always treated you as a comrade as if the size difference wasn’t there every day. Despite not having a gender like the mechs. You do at times play at the role of a mother. Something Sari told you, bee and bulkhead about when she came to visit you all. Sari even said that you treat her like your own.

Even at night Bee would try to talk to you about it. Saying if you’re like the mother then he’s the cool uncle. You corrected him since you listened to what sari said about how family works. He’d be the dad.

At least second to Optimus Prime..This would make him a bit sad. Not happy with his not so smart moment.

You’d then comfort him the way you always do. Gently holding him by his cheeks and showering his face with kisses. Smothering him as he chuckled and his cervos gently holding your waist.

”Thanks Sweetspark. You always know how to take care of me.” He chuckled once more. “What would I do without you?”

”Mmm..probably fighting a decepticon.” You teased and this made you ad him laugh before you both looked at each other's optics. And then both of your dermas connect as you both close your optics.

You always and will till the day your spark runs out. Love moments like this with your Conjunx. Although many will always ask you, even repeating it. As you why you stay with him. You can always answer with a bright smile on your dermas. as your optics only show joy and warmth.

”He makes me smile.”

I really had fun making this for Bumblebee. He’s so cute and I tried my best to add as much as I can for him without much of a scenario. Mostly just his relationship with the reader and the femme part gave me an idea. Maybe I’ll do another part with this Oneshot but I’ll need a scenario for the two so I can get a better story out to write so please lay out the ideas. I’m sure I can make a lot of fun ideas with the family dynamic with Sari, Bee, and reader! I hope you all have a good rest of the day and enjoy the next posts as they come!

[winwintea]

A Kiss to Make it Better - Hong Seunghan

PAIRING ↬ hong seunghan x fem!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ FRIENDLY REMINDER TO BOYCOTT RIIZE. RIIZE IS OT7, if ur ot6 briize pls get OFF my profile. guess what it's fei's birthday and it's also seunghan's birthday so double whammy. how does it feel to be born on the exact same day as ur bias huh. like thats crazy. not tagging her account bc she said she wants to remain "mysterious" wtv u suck. anyways happy 21 years old to both u and seunghan <333

GENRES ↬ fluff, romance, seunghan is sick, this is really just a short drabble i whipped up, lil suggestive esp at the end

WORD COUNT ↬ 1K

It was early afternoon, and you were humming as you made your way into Seunghan’s room. 

“Seunghan, isn’t it about time you took a break? I brought you some coffee.” It was right about the time Seunghan usually took a break, and you smiled as you knocked on his door and stepped into his room. 

He was sitting at his desk, hunched over his essays, completely absorbed. He barely glanced back at you, then turned back to face his work again. “Mmm, thanks. Just leave it there. I’m right in the middle of a very good creative burst, and you’re probably busy, too, so… you don’t need to stay.”

“Hmm? Okay, if you say so.” That wasn’t like him though–normally he welcomed you with a hug and kiss, no matter how busy or inspired he was. You frowned for a moment studying his back, and then you stepped closer, putting his coffee down and leaning in towards him. “Arthur, is something… hang on a minute!”

“Y/N, wait–”

You ignored his words and pressed your hand against his forehead, and sure enough… he was burning up. “Seunghan, you’ve got a fever!”

“Damn… you noticed,” he muttered, a weak grin tugging at his lips.

“Of course I did! Now put that laptop away and get into bed!” You shot him a stern look as you half-led, half-dragged him towards the bed. He was so unsteady on his feet that when you gave the lightest push, he practically collapsed onto the mattress.

“Am I dreaming, or are you actually pushing me down onto the bed? You na—” His teasing was cut short by a fit of wheezing coughs that left him breathless.

You crossed your arms, trying to look more annoyed than worried. “I’ll do more than push you down onto the bed if you don’t stop joking around and get some rest!”

“...Okay, okay.” Seunghan let out a long, loud sigh of resignation, and then he slumped back against the pillow, his eyes falling shut.

You tucked him in, and then hurried off to get some medicine, water, and a cool cloth for his forehead. 

Why the hell was he pretending to be fine, though? He clearly felt awful, and all he had to do was just tell you…

You sighed to yourself as you knocked on his door, and then hurried into his room without waiting for an answer. “Seunghan, I’m back–”

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, interrupted by another round of coughing. “...ahh, dammit, should’ve just locked the door…”

Wait. Locked the door? What was he talking about? You paused, a flicker of confusion crossing your mind, but quickly shook it off. That could wait. Right now, he needs you to focus on getting him better.“I don’t care about that right now,” you said, determined as you walked towards him, arms full of medicine, cold water, and a damp cloth. “I brought reinforcements.” Your doubts faded as you focused on helping him, determined to make him feel better, no matter what secrets he was keeping.

But before you could get too close, Seunghan lifted his hands, weakly making shooing gestures. “...Don’t come any closer,” he rasped, his voice barely holding together. Then, through labored breaths, he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “When I’m better… I’ll be as wild as you want me to be… to make up for it. I’ll be better soon, right?”

For a moment you just stopped and stared at him, but suddenly everything fell into place in your head. “Seunghan… when you were pretending to be busy earlier, and talking about locking the door– Was that all because you didn’t want me to catch whatever it is you’ve got?”

“...Got it in one.” He let out a deep, exhausted sigh, rolling onto his side as he gave you a tired, lopsided frown. “I knew if you realized I was sick, you’d go into full-on ‘nurse mode’… and I can’t let you get sick too. You’re already juggling so much… you don’t need to be fussing over me…”

Even through the fever and discomfort, his eyes were clouded with worry—worry for you. It was enough to make your heart ache, a bittersweet reminder of why you loved him so much. Even when he was feeling miserable, his concern was all for you.

“Besides, I can’t stand the idea of having you right here… but not being able to do anything with you…”

You rolled your eyes. Never mind. His annoying side was definitely still alive and kicking.

He still sounded so genuinely distressed even while making jokes that you couldn’t help laughing. “If you’re well enough to be thinking about that, then you’ll be feeling fine again in no time. Look, Seunghan, I’m really grateful that you care so much. But I care about you too, okay? So let me take care of you.”

“Fine, fine, alright already. And… thanks, Y/N.” Seunghan sighed again, and the smile he gave you was both troubled and relieved.

His small smile made your heart swell. Even in moments like this, it was clear—he wasn’t just grateful, he was reassured by having you by his side.

—-

Three days later, you stopped by Seunghan’s room first thing in the morning and he grinned at you as he sat up and stretched languidly. “Mmm, see? No more coughing, no more fatigue! I’m quite the picture of health.”

Seunghan had cut you off with a sudden kiss, one hand coming up to twine in your hair and pull you closer as he pecked teasingly at your lips.

You blinked in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Don’t you remember?” he murmured, his voice low and playful. “I promised I’d be as ‘crazy’ as you wanted to make up for things once I was better. It’s been three days, and I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for... and let’s just say, I’m feeling very ‘crazy’ right now.”

His grin was wicked, and suddenly, you knew exactly what kind of “crazy” he meant.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Two!

SO I missed Day One that’s my bad whoops BUT ☝️

I did Day Two! Here are the prompts for today , and if you’d like to join in, go here! (Messed up the link earlier my b)

the prompts I chose were:

“You did this… for me?”

(feeling) Ice

Their eyes met, and it felt better than anything else in the world, it felt right.

(setting) library

I tried to add in a hug but alas! this got a lil too long for my liking :/

ah well. what can ya do.

hope yall enjoy!

———

The Azari squires had been in the library for hours now, studying hard for their final examinations. As the sun’s light returned to its place past the frost covered mountains, the squires left, some on their own, most in pairs. Soon, the library was empty save for two squires, still studying hard.

When the room was completely dark, and the runelights flickered on, one of the squires leaned over the table and poked his companion’s arm.

“Hey, hey Kaids,” he whispered.

She ignored him, simply turning the page of her book, which was now slightly more illuminated by his glimmering butterfly wings.

“Kaiiiiiiii,” he tried again.

No answer. Kaiden scratched her nose. 

“KaiKaiKaiKai—“

“Shush, Felix, I’m reading.” she interjected, still focused on her book.

“She finally speaks!” Felix chuckled. “I got something for you!”

Kaiden finally looked up from her book, giving Felix a deadpan stare. “What?”

He disappeared under the table for a moment, then popped back up and plopped a small rectangular box onto Kaiden’s book. “Ta da!”

“You did this…” she took the present, running her fingers along the sloppy wrapping, and the lopsided bow, and the chicken scratch that passed as Felix’s handwriting that spelled out her name.

“…for me? You did this for me?” she repeated, turning the parcel in her hands.

“Yeah! Open it?”

“Mmm.” Kaiden pushed her books to the side, then started carefully unwrapping the present. A small pile of green and red paper formed near her as Felix looked on, bouncing up and down in his seat. After the wrapping was the box, and nestled inside it was a small jewelry chain. Its cool metal felt like ice in her hand.

“So? What do you think?”

Kaiden looked up at her friend, and when her eyes met Felix’s she felt … good. Happy, even. Content? Either way, she felt right.

“I love it,” she replied, giving one of her rare smiles. “Thank you, Felix.”

“You’re welcome~ also—” he got up and collected all the books with a wave of the hand, “—would you like to head back yet? It’s pretty late, and I’d like to see if we can get seconds at the cafeteria before everyone else.”

“Yeah, we should get back. Lead the way.”

———

ME WHEN THEIR FRIENDSHIPPPP ✨☝️😚‼️✨‼️✨‼️‼️💕💕🗣️💕✨‼️💕✨💕😭💕‼️😭✨💕💕‼️🎉🎉💅💅✌️

now I think I’ll tag the General Writing List (lemme know if you’d like on/off plz)

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @glbettwrites

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@frostedlemonwriter @ash-thedrawer @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon

and the host of this lovely event: @agirlandherquill ! (Pls lemme know if it’s alright to tag you)

[3-2-whump]

The Scent of Jasmine

<prev next>

Who's in the mood for some carewhumping after the emotional rollercoaster of almost dying? I know I am!

Thank you @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for being awesome beta readers

TW/CW: aftermath of mock execution, trauma aftermath, extremely dubious consent, nonverbal whumpee, whumper turned carewhumper, dubiously consensual nudity, death threats, chastity devices (yes, it’s back), forced domesticity, food whump (sort of) (tagging it anyway to cover my bases), intimate whumper

The boss noticed Khaled’s grateful enthusiasm slowly fade into a catatonic silence on the drive home. He didn’t think much of it, though. Poor boy is just shocked is all, he told himself, we can work on that. He parked, got out of the car and led Khaled out of the garage and to the elevator.

His first order of business was to strip Khaled when they got home. The poor thing was soaked in melted snow and cooled piss. He was barely responsive as Thomas pulled him into the laundry room and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off his shivering body. “You need a bath, Khaled.”

Khaled didn’t reply, instead opting to stare at his bare feet with empty, starless eyes. I can’t blame him for being quiet. Anyone would be a little messed up after a mock execution, he figured. He sighed, gently taking the slave’s hand in his and leading him to the master bathroom.

Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he knelt by the large, deep bath tub. “Come on in,” he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub as Thomas poured a generous glug of bubble bath solution into the marble expanse and cranked the water full-blast, making micro-adjustments to make sure the temperature wasn’t too hot. As a finishing touch, he uncapped a tiny bottle of jasmine oil and dripped a few drops into the tub. The floral scent rose on the plumes of steam coming from the frothing tub.

Once the tub was full enough, Thomas turned off the tap and pulled Khaled closer to the tub. He effortlessly scooped the young man’s cold body into his arms, settling him on the edge of the bath tub before gently lowering him in. “I’m going to help you wash your hair and body. Nod if you understand me.”

Khaled faintly nodded, eyes fully closing as he slumped into the soapy water. “Good boy.” Nothing but a small, contented sounding whimper answered him. At least he’s becoming verbal again.

Thomas methodically washed the young man’s body and hair, being mindful of not getting any soap in his eyes as he massaged his scalp with the shampoo. He noticed the newly forming chafe marks on Khaled’s wrists as he scrubbed his body. All the while he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, like “good boy, you’re being so good right now, we’re almost done, I gotta rinse you off and drain the tub next.”

The awareness in Khaled’s eyes was flickering back on once Thomas helped him out of the bath tub and began towel-drying him. “Back with me, beautiful?” he teased.

“Mmm.” Inky dark eyes glittered up at him from dark lashes and damp strands of black hair as Thomas wrapped a soft fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah, good. Very good.” He procured something small and metallic from behind his back.

Khaled instinctively backed away as soon as he saw what it was. “Khaled,” he warned. It was all he needed to say for the boy to stay rooted on the spot. “I haven’t forgotten about you running around and getting an STD,” he explained as he wrapped the cock cage around Khaled’s privates. “And I’m still mad about it. But maybe I will let you out once we’re both all better.” He padlocked it in place and held the small caged appendage in his hand. “Or once I put that dumpster lover of yours under, like the horndog he is. Whichever comes sooner.” He marveled at how it was but a microcosm of Khaled’s greater captivity. As he craned his gaze upwards, he saw Khaled pout. “Oh, don’t give me that look –I’m doing this for your own good!” The boy smoothed his frown back into a neutral expression of apathy as he hid his eyes behind his lashes.

“That’s more like it. Now, can you change into your pajamas and wait in the living room until Master is done in here?” He measured out his words slowly and carefully, explaining it as if Khaled was a child again. Another quiet hum answered him. “Good boy. When I’m done, we can eat, and then we’ll watch whatever you’d like.” He gestured him out with a small wave of the hand, then hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off himself.

When he got out of the shower, towel-dried himself, and changed into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a wife-beater tank top, Thomas made his way to the living room, where Khaled sat on the floor, at the foot of the couch, gazing down at the carpet with desolate eyes. He was still wrapped in the bath towel. Seeing him there brought back memories of when Khaled was younger, when he would lean against his shins and let him brush his thick black hair. The memory brought back fond feelings in Thomas’ chest. He turned around and went back to the bathroom for a hairbrush.

Once he was done brushing his slave’s hair, they ended up sitting opposite each other at the dining room table, each with a plate of reheated takeout from a new Indian restaurant Tom had wanted to try. While the boss himself ravenously devoured the bhuna ghost, Khaled kept tearing the same corner of buttered naan between his fingers while staring apathetically at the murgh cholay.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more food?” he asked again. “You hardly touched your portion.”

The boy merely shook his head.

“Come on, at least two more bites, Khaled,” he coaxed. “Give me at least two more bites before I put it away.”

Khaled cast him an empty, weary stare, not breaking eye contact as he tore off the weathered chunk of bread, dipped it into the curry, and ate exactly two more bites.

They ended up cuddling onto the couch together after dinner, a rarity in their household. Thomas man-spread on the couch and rested his arms outstretched along the back. Khaled, still wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his shoulders, leaned against his side with his head resting on his chest. His hands curled around a steaming mug of chai, which he occasionally sipped as they watched a rerun of the AFC World Cup. Khaled didn’t cheer, or groan, or offer any commentary of any kind throughout the whole match. It was unusual for Khaled to remain this quiet and glum during a game. Thomas gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet this evening? Is it –oh, is it because of that little scare off the side of the road?” he guessed. Khaled pushed his weight up against him, just short of burrowing into the man’s side.

“I guess I scared you pretty badly, didn’t I? Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know now it wasn’t you, but I had to be sure. I promise I will never fake you out like that again.”

The young man remained silent as he leaned against his chest.

“If anything, you should be blaming that boyfriend of yours,” he continued. “I bet he never would’ve attempted that hit if he knew what I was about to do to you tonight. But, what’s done is done, and now you’ll never see him again.”

Khaled did not respond.

It took about an hour more of mind-numbing soccer footage for him to realize the boy had fallen asleep on him.

Oh. He softly smiled as he turned off the TV. He carefully got up and lowered Khaled onto the couch, disentangling the towel from his unconscious, nude form. He propped a throw pillow behind his head, then unfurled a fleece blanket and draped it over him, making sure his feet were covered and he was properly tucked in for the night. “Goodnight, Khaled,” he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of the boy’s parted lips. “I… love you...”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[waterfallofspace]

Who are your favorite artists/writers in the community?

I see this one has been going around!! I actually got two, so forgive me for answering only just the one, but thank you both for sending this in!! Absolutely gonna emphasis *favourite*, not best, so I'm CERTAIN I'm gonna miss people that I just haven't seen

Okay so this is gon be a long list, and tagging people is scary so I really apologize if any of you didn't wanna be tagged <3 and I'm certain to miss a few, so if I don't mention you, please know that you're still amazing and it doesn't mean I don't melt to bits at your content!!!~ <3

(also gonna include a few wav makers bc that's honestly an art too!!! and i feel they deserve to be praised for that!!~)

(and gonna copy snzdreams here <3) People I know/Friends:

--- @onetrickponi is an absolute TREASURE, not only so kind and fun, but also genuine triple threat, despite what her name suggests~ --- @zensations35 one of the BIG names on here, at least to me~ someone I've adored for years, such a kind person too!! Not super close, but adore her!~ --- @snzdreams Absolute dear, and SUCH a fun person, and honestly honestly honestly the best g/ojo writer ive ever had the pleasure of reading, girl i stg that closet fic will live with me forever --- @bestwhumpist SOOOOO good!!! and so sweet, i have the honour of calling you a friend and also the honour of enjoying your WORK bc mmm girl yes --- @ithadtobesneezing also one of the sweetest people, so many people on here are so sweet and it makes me insane, and SUCH a good writer, like hello??? hi???? made me fall in love with y/uta i swear --- @6pmsoup AMAZING art like AMAAZZZINNGGG art, looks so good i'd swear it was straight from a manga --- @hachiibun some of my favourite art on this entire site, hachii is not only INSANELY impressive, also so nice!!! genuinely amazing~ --- @goodlucksnez makes some REALLY good wavs, and Vic is also such a kind and fun person!~ --- @ezynse REALLY good fics, personally seen a few a/ce a/ttorney ones making the rounds, but also just a funny and sweet person~ --- @lycheeehehe made this one w/olfwood drawing that made me feel things AND AND AND then also made a list of hcs for t/oji and ik hcs arent what you asked but literally made me insane over this man --- @devilscastle69 THE h/otwings writer on A/03, absolutely go check them out if you like h/otwings, some AMAZING stuff on there!! (also just such a cool person hi <3) --- @themiseryandcompany older fics but SOOO worth it, tasty lil morsels, and also one of my first friends on here!!! so adore her forever <3 --- @snzluv3r hi so honestly this one is so hguahguh for me to admit but some of the hottest wavs on here, and more than that!! literally a sweetheart, SUCH a sweet person!~ <33

People I don't know, but really appreciate:

--- @whiskey-tango-matcha such good stories about their lil guy ocs, they're SO alive and I honestly feel like they're characters from a published media with how much I know them and feel certain of them!! --- @autumnsneezes some of the best wavs (and snzs) that i've heard, absolutely amazing!!~ --- @gemsden some REALLY good content over here, mostly just posts with vague ideas, but some writing too!~ and just sooo good!~ --- @kotyonoksnz literally SUCH amazing art, released a few comics of it, and SPOILED snzblr with a beautiful h/azbin partial one, absolutely incredible art!!

omg this has been SO long im so sorry!! and im so sorry if i missed someone/you, i PROMISE it doesn't mean I don't love your stuff, just means i forgot T-T but I hope the length (and tags) are alright, and thank you for asking non!!~

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“So, the Green Bundle includes a Match truffle, chocolate mint smoothies, and green tea infused fudge,” you explain to the trio of women across from you. “The deluxe includes peppermint cocoa as well and comes in a this mug.” 

You present one of the few kits you have left in your inventory. As big a deal as getting a stall at the event was, you hadn’t expected the crowd. You’re overwhelmed, especially realising you’re the only stand with only a single body. 

“That’s so cute,” the taller brunette remarks, “what about the Pink kit? It says strawberry and creme?” 

“Ah, yes, that one sold out rather quickly today. I can offer a voucher for my online boutique or I can sell you a sampler box? It has the strawberry and creme as well as my more popular flavours.” 

“Do you do this all yourself?” The curly blonde asks as she eyes the chocolate dipped cherries. 

Another body crowds in, a tall men bending to peruse your hand-painted sign listing all your bundles and boxes. He pays you little mind as he eyes cling to the letters and he reaches to pluck up one of your cards. You return your attention to the blonde. 

“Yes, they’re all hand-crafted. The mugs as well but I don’t do those. I’ve a friend who makes those.” 

“The packaging is so pretty,” the first preens, “can I have a sampler then?” 

“Sure,” you answer, “I do the packaging as well. All the stickers, the bows I tie myself, and I decorate each box.” 

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the middle on remarks, “I’ll have a sampler as well and the green bundle.” 

“Sampler for me,” the third agrees. 

You go through the same process with each. You grab the product, put it in a bag, seal it with a sticker, and ring them through with a tap of their card. They all seem excited for their purchase and it’s contagious. It’s been a hectic day but you’re running low and you don’t think you’ll make it through to closing. Still, it’s good advertising. 

“Green tea fudge?” The tall man slithers towards the center of your counter, “an unusual combination.” 

“Yes, that one took a lot of experimenting.” 

“Mmm,” he still has your card in hand, bending it slightly as he flicks it with his thumb, “the red bundle. Cherry, red velvet, and...” he leans back to check the sign, “cayenne. Interesting.” 

“I try to make sure there’s variety in each,” you explain. 

“Yes, so it seems. I’ll take a red then.” 

“Sorry, sir, um, I’ve sold out of most. I still have the yellow, the black, and the green--” 

“Sold out?” He raises his wrist to give an emphatic glance at his watch, “either you’re very popular or ill-prepared.” 

You’re surprised by the accusation. He’s rather blunt. You’ve dealt with many different types today but they’ve all been relatively pleasant, after all, it’s hard to be in a bad mood at a Baking Show. 

“Fair, I wasn’t expecting so many buyers, sir. But you have my card, you’ll see my online boutique is listed--” 

“But I want to buy now,” he says as he tilts his head, dark brows rising just slightly. 

“I understand, I apologise for the inconvenience, but I just don’t have the red on-hand. I do have a sampler here--” You grab one of the variety boxes, “it would have the cayenne and the cherry.” 

“Do you think a one-person operation like this is sustainable?” He inquires sharply. 

You wince and shake your head, “sir? I’ve only just started. I’m sure with growth I’ll have to adjust.” 

“And do you have a business plan or is this some Etsy venture with no goals?” 

You nearly choke. You don’t know what you’ve done to offend him. 

“Well, sir, if you don’t want to buy, I do have free samples available. I don’t have any of the red flavours but I do have some banana peanut butter and salted caramel apple--” 

“I didn’t ask about samples,” he insists, “I’m asking about your business plan.” 

You bat your lashes and look around. Has he come to this event just to interrogate people over their bottom line? 

“I suppose it’s something I will have to review after today,” you contend. 

“I’d say,” he tucks your card into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering within as he pulls out a leather wallet, “if you have any questions...” 

He slides a card free and offers it. You take it hesitantly and read the gold font on matte black cardstock. Black Snake Chocolatier. You run your fingers over the embossed lettering and narrow your eyes. You peer over at the large banner over that business’ booth. He must be from over there but he’s not exactly dressed for the work. His suit is pressed and stainless. 

“I did sponsor that one,” he pulls your attention back, “but I’ve come down to take measure of my competition and possible... acquisitions.” 

You nod slowly as you meet his green eyes. Is this intimidation? 

“Loki Laufeyson,” he offers his hand as a glint of silver in his hair catches the light, “might I have your name?” 

You trade your name and a handshake. He squeezes enough for you to wince. He lets go and you slip his card in you apron pocket with all the others collected from your fellow vendors. 

“I’ll certainly take a sampler,” he says, “see if this little venture has any teeth.” 

His every word is like a bite. He speaks with the fangs of the very logo of his business. You put his purchase into your phone and offer the square for him to tap his payment. He processes it and swipes up the box before you can package it. 

“Do you want a bag?” You ask. 

“I can handle it,” he tucks the box under his arm. “Best of luck to you doing the same.” 

He glances around and slowly moves aside as a group of new customers set in. A family of five with three hollering children with grabby hands. Your eyes widen as you smile at them as best you can. This day has truly tested your social battery. 

[sydsaint]

Sweet Gunn boy ily <3

Summary: The reader enjoys a lazy morning at the hotel with Austin.

It's early in the morning when you are woken up by the sun streaming in through the window, right into your face. Your eyes flit open and a yawn escapes past your lips. You move slightly and feel the presence of a warm body pressed up against your back.

It takes you a moment, but you are quick to remember that you brought Austin back to your hotel room last night being out for drinks with him and his buddies from Bullet Club Gold. You carefully turn around in bed and set your arms on Austin's warm chest. His eyes flutter open upon feeling your hands on him.

"Mmm, morning." Austin greets you with a yawn.

"Morning." You reply softly. "Sleep well?" You ask Austin while snuggling your head deeper into your pillow.

Austin lazily nods and you feel him set a hand on your hip gently. "It was one of my more comfortable nights." He admits with a cheeky grins.

"Please tell me that you don't have any early morning plans?" You ask another question lazily. "I'm too comfy to go anywhere anytime soon." Your eyes flutter shut with a content sigh.

"You'd have to pry my cold dead body out of this bed right now." Austin jokes. "Especially when I've got such good company." He adds and leans forward.

Your eyes peek open when you feel Austin's lips on your neck. You let out a hushed giggle and push against his chest. "Go back to sleep." You whine playfully.

"You sure?" Austin whispers a reply, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Yes." You push against Austin's chest again. "Sleep, please." You ask him again.

Your eyes remain shut as you attempt to snuggle back into bed and fall back asleep. But unfortuniatly for you, Austin is wide awake now. And he's eager to make sure he milks all the attention he can get from you.

"Austin!" Your eyes fly open when you feel Austin's hands wandering.

"Yeah?" Austin replies with a sly smile plastered on his handsome face.

You roll your eyes and turn away from Austin before rising into a sitting posistion. Austin watches you stretch your arms above your head and yawn again before you get to your feet.

"No! YN, I'm sorry." Austin whines. "Come back to bed." He pleads and reaches out in an attempt to grab you and pull you back into bed.

"Too late. I'm awake now." You shake your head and head for the bathroom door.

Austin groans and flops back into bed. He watches your hips sway in the most enticing way under your shirt as you head into the bathroom. You flick the bathroom light on and walk up to the mirror. Your peer at your dishevled reflection and frown. Your hair is in a tangled mess despite being pulled into a neat ponytail and there are hickies littered all over your neck and chest.

"Admiring my handywork?" Austin sneaks into the bathroom and comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist.

"God, I don't think I'm going to have enough concealer for all of this." You complain. "I'm going to have to drop by an Ulta sometime today and buy another tube."

Austin sets his chin on your shoulder and pulls your body back into his chest. "I'd be happy to tag along and pay for that concealer." He offers.

"You want to go makeup shopping with me?" You quirk a brow in the mirror at Austin.

"Why not?" Austin shrugs. "We can grab lunch or something after." He suggests. "As long as I get to spend some more time with you before work."

You smile to yourself and set your hands on Austin's arms now wrapped across your chest. "You're awfully clingy, Gunn." You tease him.

"Well when you manage to land a woman as sexy and cool as you are, YN. You gotta make sure everyone knows that she's already got a man." He jokes with a grin.

You roll your eyes playfully and turn around in Austins arms. "I suppose having you around to tow around my bags at the mall isn't such a bad idea." You giggle. "I'm going to grab a shower, you wanna join?" You ask him.

"YN, if there ever comes a time that I answer no to that quuestion, please kick my ass." Austin replies and leans down for a kiss.

You giggle and grab Austin's hand, dragging him toward the shower. It's still early, so you've got plenty of time to screw around before you and Austin are needed for anything.

[headgehug]

get to know your mutuals!

thanks for tagging me @gerryrafferty :)

What's the origin of your username? in setting up a school username for me my mother typo'd hedgehog as head- and when i needed something for tumblr i thought it'd be cute to bastardize it further

OTP(s) + ship name: some of my all-timers are sylvix (fire emblem) brandytook (lotr) and newmann (pacific rim). sorry women

Favorite color: if it comes in grey i'm getting it in grey but i love the whole earth tone family

Song stuck in your head: honestly kinda cringe but lana del rey hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have but i have it.

Weirdest habit/trait: i only shift with my left pinky even though I know you're supposed to use the right for uppercase letters that appear on the left side of the keyboard? and for the record I only hit space with my right thumb.

Hobbies: all things fabric arts.

If you work, what's your profession? in 2024 i clawed my way from receptionist to admin assistant to legit bookkeeper :) which is actually what i went to college for lol

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? (boring answer) small business office manager. (cool answer) if it weren't for social media i'd love to be a media journalist but I can't for the life of me do the social part.

Something you're good at: i fancy myself a handyman at times.

Something you hate: putting a new trash bag in after emptying it :(

Something you collect: catcher in the ryes? (currently have 4 copies and 3 distinct editions <3) well honestly i just like acquiring books in general.

Something you forget: microholidays. st patrick's day? labor day? you are making things up at this point

What's your love language? giving or acts of service but it has to take actual time and effort. in this day and age nothing says i love you like spending more than the ten seconds it takes to order online or buy a hallmark card.

Favorite movie/show: movie would be the neverending story. television is furniture sorry!

Favorite food: i love food and i love cooking but honestly the only thing i can think of right now is asparagus with lemon mmm mm

Favorite animal: the one and only great american bison!

What were you like as a child? undiagnosed? lol

Favorite subject at school: english/lit if the teacher is any good. otherwise math i guess

Least favorite subject: oh my god all my business classes. shut upppp

What's your best character trait? i can send emails and make phone calls

What's your worst character trait? when the house starts to get kind of messy or the floor has too many bits on it i get kind of testy and passive aggressive until i vacuum or something. and then i'm totally normal.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? i'll just be boring and honest and say if i could meet mike nesmith late seventies or early aughts the time travel radiation could make me wither and die and i'd be soo so happy.

tagging but no pressure: @thetomboyeffect @fleetn-crab85 @hannelore-grace um anyone else !

[wordsonamission]

Slimav and itch 👀

Hey hey! Sorry for the delay, the writing muse was not having it for the past couple of days. My writing gets a bit away from the ask a bit, but I hope you enjoy this anyway!

This prompt comes from the comfortable intimacy tag. Prompt: (itch) sender assists receiver with an itch they can't reach.

PS - I could be tempted to continue this story if anyone is interested. Slimav is always a fun time . . .

Maverick twisted in his chair, face creased with concentration as his hands scrabbled around trying to reach a spot on his back.

Slider raised a condescending brow. “What’s got your panties in a bunch, shortstack?”

“Goddamn mosquitos,” Maverick fumed back sharply. “Goose and I were on the court after sunset last night and the stupid things were everywhere.”

“Hmm.” Slider watched as the furious contorting continued. “And I assume you weren’t wearing your shirt during the game?”

“Of course not! Gotta keep this California tan somehow.”

 “You look like a dog with fleas.”

Maverick’s expression went nuclear. “You’re so hilarious, Sli.” His face was an alarming shade of puce as he left the chair with a huff.

Maverick headed for the partial wall near the small kitchen as Slider laughed. He turned around and wedged his back against the sharp corner, rubbing against it like a bear on a tree.

“Come on, that’s just pathetic,” Slider sighed. He crossed the room in four long strides and grabbed Maverick’s arm.

“What the hell, that was working!” Maverick groused.

Slider rolled his eyes as he spun Maverick around and pulled up the back of his shirt. The tanned skin beneath was riddled with small red marks. He whistled through his teeth.

“Yeah, that does look rough.”

Maverick started to respond, heat coloring his tone, but Slider didn’t wait for a reply before running his big, hot hands up Maverick’s spine. He dug in with his fingernails, scratching firmly. Maverick hissed and shuddered, jumping as broad fingers dug in to his waist.

“That hurts! And Goose said not to scratch, it’ll just make the spots worse.”

“Trust Mother Goose to have an opinion but not offer to help,” Slider snorted. “But that does make sense. You’ll just get redder if I keep this up.”

“But it’s still itchy!”

Slider’s hands didn’t leave Maverick’s skin. He lingered, pressing against the curves of his spine and alone the muscles of his shoulders. The mosquito bites were still irritating, but the long, sweeping touches both soothed and inflamed Maverick in another way.

“C’mon, I have another idea,” Slider said after a pause. “Lose the shirt and get in the kitchen.”

“You having ideas is dangerous.”

“Now who’s full of jokes?” Slider grabbed a clean dish towel and opened the freezer, rummaging around and cracking several ice cubes out of the tray.

Maverick hesitated. He toyed with the hem of his shirt and considered his options. On the one hand, he could see that icing the bites could reduce the swelling and the itch. On the other hand, he didn’t really trust himself to be half naked in the same room as Slider. And that’s before he considers what it’ll be like for Slider to touch him more.

 But Slider gestured impatiently with his handful of ice, so Maverick pulled the shirt over his head and faced away, his gaze level to the cheap laminate countertop. He jumped at the first touch of cold.

“Settle down,” Slider grumbled. “If you keep flinching so much, this is gonna take forever.”

Maverick swallowed hard. Slider’s hands roamed over his back familiarly as the first bite cooled down. He had to admit – the cold did sooth the itch. Slider stepped closer, a wall of warmth along Maverick’s back. He plucked one of the cubes out of the towel and pressed it against a bite low on his shoulder blade. Maverick hissed at the surprise.

 Slider chuffed a laugh, warm air rushing through Maverick’s hair. “Easy, now.”

 “You could have warned me.”

“Mmm, but what’s the fun in that?”

Maverick had no answer. Slider shifted the towel to another bite and the cooled skin trembled when exposed to the kitchen air. Maverick breathed carefully through an open mouth as Slider put the uncovered ice cube on a bite up by the nape of his neck. Slider’s thumb balanced on the side of his neck, making his pulse flutter.

“That should be most of them,” Maverick rasped an interminable time later.

“Are you sure?” Slider accompanied the question with a lazy glide of his hand down Maverick’s spine, the cooled tips of his fingers lighting up every inch of skin he touched.

“Yeah.” Maverick needed Slider to stop touching him. He needed him to never stop . . . “I think the ice did all it’s gonna do for me.” The cubes were melting. Water trailed down his skin, making him shiver as it streamed down toward the waistband of his pants.

Slider grabbed Maverick’s hips and spun him around. Maverick’s head dropped back, startled, to make eye contact. “I-I can do the front.”

“Of course you can.” Slider bit back a smile, but lines deepened around his sparkling eyes.

Wet and cold trailed over Maverick’s pecs. There was a bite on his sternum that got covered first. He shifted as Slider’s hand moved once the inflamed spot was cold, the motion making the ice land on his nipple. Gasping, he pushed up into Slider’s arm to move him away.

“Where are you going with that?”

“Wherever I want?” Now Slider had to be messing with him. He glided the loose cube down the centerline of his midsection and watched as it trailed into the coarse hair above his bellybutton.

“What if I want you to do what you want?” Maverick had to clear his throat twice before the words came out. Slider’s eyes snapped back up to stare into his face, blown dark with want.

Maverick reached out and cupped the side of Slider’s face, reveling in how the rasp of his stubble felt against his fingertips. Then he traced the bridge of his nose down to his grinning mouth. From there it was easy to sway closer and close the distance between their lips.

Slider deepened the kiss with a soft growl. He tipped Maverick’s chin up to improve the angle of attack, their noses bumping as they worked to set a give and take. His strong hands clutched at Maverick’s waist and drew their bodies in closer, pressing the growing warmth of their arousal together.

The sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted them. Flushing, Maverick threw himself off the countertop and raced to retrieve his shirt as Ice walked in to the living room.

“Maverick? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Mosquito bites. Ice helps.” He got caught with one arm in the head hole. Ice snorted and helped get him sorted out.

“Slider, next time you want to flirt with your boytoy, make sure I’m not going to walk in. This could have been very embarrassing for all of us.” Ice glared at his RIO, but he fought back a smile.

Maverick spluttered, but Slider cut in before he could reply. “Sure thing, Ice. We wouldn’t want to scar you for life.”               

Slider winked at Maverick as he turned to dump the ice in the sink. Confused and feeling very caught out, Maverick darted away from Slider to the relative safety of the couch. Ice’s mirth diffused a lot of the tension in the room, but interest still simmered low in his belly. Maybe next time (was he really going to consider that there could be a next time???), Ice wouldn’t show up, and he’d see how far things would go

[gravehags]

unholy, unholy, unholy - the natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,162

Summary: She really walked right into this, Natalie tells herself. She can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: lmao it took me like an hour to edit this so if you see some grammatical fuck ups no you don't anyway enjoy some horndog behavior

~~~

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

Natalie slams her office door shut with her hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at her from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of her head she walks past him and sets the bag of food down on her desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically she flops into her desk chair and gives her lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out their meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes Natalie’s container of Pad see ew to her, she grins.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah Natalia, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, she clinks her soda can against his and digs into her meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

Natalie props her feet up on her desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks. 

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “We’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” she says, scrunching her nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give her a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

Natalie closes her eyes and laughs, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of her pale throat as her head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

She fixes him with a look she knows will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from hers, “You would like to attend one of our services?”

Natalie nods gamely. 

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes her with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

Natalie balks. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of her for some odd reason. She often wonders how he manages to give her such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. She didn’t particularly care, however, as she saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked her to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but she sees the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. Natalie flutters her eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, takes her lower lip between her teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to her mouth and his jaw hangs open makes her giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, Natalia.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know she’s doing this on purpose at this point. Natalie’s not sure what has gotten into her today but something about the way he stares at her now makes her want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over her desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of them, not for the first time, as if all one of them needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What, like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly Natalie’s swagger flickers, wondering if she’s crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now her jaw falls open and she can feel her cheeks light up as he watches her with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now she’s the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” she asks, voice a little higher than normal, “So if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “We’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” she squeaks out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “Although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” she says just a little too quickly, her heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Natalie’s laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and she kicks herself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of them diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When they finally part, he gives her the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Natalia,” he murmurs as she begins to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

She gives him a half-smile and shakes her head.

“I think it will be good for me,” she says, hands behind her back as she rocks onto her heels, “And besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

Natalie makes sure not to turn away until she sees the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time her back is to him and she’s walking away, there’s a loopy grin on her face. It’s not til she turns the corner and reaches the staircase to her quarters the full realization of what she’s agreed to dawns upon her. 

Oh fuck.

—

Natalie doesn’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and her own and for that she’s extremely thankful. The date of her confession has arrived and she’s equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, she’s not entirely sure what to expect. She’s not ignorant - she’s seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little she does know doesn’t assuage her anxiety. This is Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Her mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on her knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting her chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

She desperately tries to, as she sternly told herself, get her shit together but her mind is clouded the rest of her workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of them. Natalie’s particularly fond of the one where he’s got her in his office, her skirt hiked up over her hips as she bends over his desk and he pushes himself inside her from behind. The thought of his voice in her head, calling her his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into her, makes her practically drip. The final two hours in her office are torture before she’s able to skitter back to her rooms. She’s not meeting with Copia for another few hours and she needs to do something about the ache between her thighs. Impatiently, she fumbles for the buttons on her blouse with one hand while pushing her skirt off with another. She must look a sight, ripping her bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all she can think about now is getting to her bed. She almost trips twice in the journey to her room, blindly stumbling over and flinging herself on the mattress. What has gotten into her? She’s been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way she’s practically whining when her hands meet her bare breasts? She feels positively feral. 

“Copia,” Natalie breathes, fingers pinching at her nipples. She imagines his hands on her, the way the leather would warm as he strokes her soft skin.

Dolcezza. 

Fuck, she can hear it perfectly and it makes her sigh, one of her hands slowly sliding down her body to cup the heat of her. She’s sopping and time feels like it slows as she spreads herself open and slides two fingers against her engorged clit. All of her frantic rushing from earlier ceases as she twitches under her own touch, his name on her lips. She’s so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring her over the edge, but, she thinks as her orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow inhale she slips her fingers lower and teases at her entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from her and languorously she begins to pump them in and out. Her eyes slide shut and she imagines it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside her so she can feel every stitch and groove of his glove. 

Cara mia, he’d murmur into her ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of Natalie’s mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - she knows she’s close. She brings her palm flat against herself to push on her clit as her hips continue to make little circles, driving her fingers deeper in. Her hand is aching but it doesn’t stop her from pulling another orgasm out of herself, chanting his name. Tears pool in her eyes and slide down her temples as she sobs aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Her body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as she attempts to slow the thundering of her heart. It’s not the first time she’s touched herself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. She’s exhausted, bone tired as she tries to organize her feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub her face she turns over and looks at the clock. 

5:32 PM

Her eyelids are heavy but she manages to lean over the side of her bed and locate her phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do her good. Clear her head.

She doesn’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…her. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of Natalia soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined her a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for her to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

She’s always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Natalie’s soft footsteps approach - she must be wearing her sneakers and not her boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from her has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears her open her side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of them so profound that when Natalie finally speaks he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees her shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on her expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with her posture. 

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

She breathes out heavy through her nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, Natalia?”

She lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” she grouses, flicking the screen that separates them. She falls silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” she clears her throat and he hears her crack her neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

She takes a deep breath in and he sees her nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses her by name, he sees her jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears her softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in her presence, “I have nowhere to be, Natalia. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see her eyelashes flutter as she looks down and her cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence she speaks.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear her grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

Natalie sighs.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done Natalia.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture her flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” she says, with greater confidence, “Let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” Natalie seems to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “Well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” she huffs, “Okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But she deserves to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

Natalie barks out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “Can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “Next one is wrath.”

He hears her suck in a breath through her teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting her to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “They should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas, would he have loved to see her flying at them like a demon, her claws sharp and her words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

Natalie’s silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping she’s not dwelling too much on her last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” she lets out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “None of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “This is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of her in a rush but she sounds almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see Natalie’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina Sinclair, I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Her laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” she murmurs, “No one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

Natalie makes a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” she cringes, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find her wandering the kitchens stoned out of her gourd and put her there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but she doesn’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” she ponders and he hears the back of her head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” she says, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores her so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” she mutters to herself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears her breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where Natalie confesses her adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before her and worship her as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears her say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of them and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for her to reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of them sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see her lovely pale green eyes are shut and hears her loudly swallow.

“I, um,” she begins, “Yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” Natalie’s voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and she is too, judging from the way she twitches. From his obscured view she looks positively horrified, as if she had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” Natalie blurts out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see her eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on her cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

She raises a hand up to rub aggressively at her face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” she finally says and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” Natalie responds and she opens her mouth to speak but hesitates. When she finally does, there’s a new tone to her voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel Natalie’s eyes on him, see her full lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, Natalia,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “I-In celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until she clears her throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn her ability to vex him when he needs relief…and her…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if Natalie heard him or not because in an instant she’s opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears her firmly shut it behind her and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that she was talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way she sounded confessing her lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet she was. Tempting even when she isn’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining her. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of her eagerly spreading herself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises she would make, his Natalia - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - her body eager to yield to his touch. 

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of Natalie looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on her face, her lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment. 

He thinks of Natalie’s smile once more.