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kusanagihaku · 1 month ago

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think about the consequence

⭢ tohma x mc, 1.2k

h is for height. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3

You grit your teeth. Who the fuck put the loose leaf packages all the way in the back of the cupboard?

It’s bad enough that you were held up at Sinostra and were sweaty and ten minutes late to your meeting with Jin; now you’re struggling to make Jin his pot of tea too. You can feel his displeasure growing by the minute.

You strain on your tiptoes, stretching your fingers as far as possible to the back of the cupboard, but your fingertips barely brush the bag of tea you know is in there. Fucking hell.

Shouldn’t this be Tohma’s job? Or actually, what’s stopping the Frostheim captain from making the goddamn tea himself? Who does he think he is, ordering you to–

“Honour student,” a deep voice, smooth as silk, slides by the shell of your ear.

A hand reaches past yours, long fingers easily snagging the bag of tea and bringing it down to your eye level. You turn to see the growing smirk of the Frostheim vice-captain, polished monocle glinting in the artificial warmth of the pantry as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

He is much too close – close enough you can count individual eyelashes framing the cornflower blue of his eyes, close enough you can lean forward and kiss–

You flush immediately, then spend the next two seconds willing it down despairingly as Tohma’s grin grows wider. Stupid perfect man with his stupid perfect hair and his stupid perfect face.

He smells oddly warm, too, a mix of sunshine and linen and something spiced. You bite your lip; it surprises you. For some reason you’ve always associated him with the crisp cologne-like air freshener floating around the halls of his house, but there is something so him, so magnetically Tohma, rushing in the undercurrent of his scent that it makes a small part of you wonder what it would taste like.

You grab the bag of tea from his hands, pointedly looking away. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he says, insufferable grin still pinned in place as if he knows how fast your heart is thundering, how fast he makes your heart thunder. God, you’d slap him across his smug smile if you could.

With your lips, preferably, a cheerful and annoying part of your mind reminds you, and you scowl, unwrapping the golden bag between your hands. Maybe so.

He doesn’t leave after that, either, instead leaning against the counter casually, arms crossed and eyes tracking your movements between the kettle and teapot. “Bai mudan?”

“Mm,” you say. You shake one, two spoons of loose tea leaves into the clay teapot in front of you as you wait for the water to rise to the right temperature. “Jin specifically requested it.”

Tohma laughs at that. “He enjoys it whenever he’s stressed.”

You fold the edges of the bag neatly back into itself and reach for a clip to close the bag just like you’ve seen Tohma do millions of times. Whatever the infernal Frostheim king could be stressed about you cannot fathom – for as long as you’ve been inspector you’ve always seen Tohma handling most of the paperwork and missions.

Almost as if he can read your mind, Tohma softens. “Institute things, you know?”

You don’t, you want to say. Institute or not, a man should be able to make his own damn tea. But there is something soft and chiding in the gentle of Tohma’s words that hold your tongue. Always kind, always loyal, the sort of strong and steadfast you could only wish to be. He must have his reasons.

You sigh, an acknowledgement rather than an agreement, and are rewarded by a hum from the monocled man beside you. The loose leaf tea returns to the cupboard, significantly closer to the edge than when you retrieved it.

Tohma glances down. He opens his mouth again, but you beat him to it. “Yeah, 75 degrees, I know.”

His eyes crinkle up at that, an amused sparkle behind his monocle you refuse to admit shoots straight through your heart and leaves you some type of giddy. “Good girl.”

G-

Your brain stops.

What?

He– what?

Your cheeks react before your brain can, burning red at his comment and fueled by the gravel of his voice. What?

You’ve never been one for praise. But somehow, as you stare at the wisps of steam trailing up from the spout of the kettle (you really should be removing it from the heat soon), the embers of his words settle at the bottom of your stomach, glowing; they leave a flashing red neon sign sprawling Good girl! all over the now dry expanse of your mind.

Maybe you are one for praise, after all.

Your hand reaches towards the electric kettle on autopilot, turning it off, but the rest of your brain twitches feebly, failing to restart.

What does he mean?

As large as your crush on him has been growing, Tohma has never once been more than courteous towards you. Throughout the hours you’ve spent in the vaults with him poring over paperwork and sifting through the missions and budgets of the general students, he has always been every HR personnel’s wet dream, always staying on his side of the table and conversing about nothing but work.

You’ve cursed it out before, of course, in the safety of your own shower – wouldn’t it be nice if he looked at you like more than a coworker, for once?

Except (as you’re quickly finding out) perhaps it is more than you can handle.

Maybe he goes around calling all the Frostheim girls that, you rationalise, desperately. (You hope not.) Maybe he doesn’t know the effect it has on you.

“Need help?” Tohma’s voice is close to your ear now, and you startle. Some time between your thoughts going blank and the kettle finding itself in your hand he has moved much closer than you realised – his breath is heated on the tip of your ear, a far cry from the low temperatures filling the rest of Frostheim.

It’s been a while since you were posted to Frostheim for your very first mission, but the vibrations Tohma’s voice sends through the prickle of your skin is still as strong as back then. You suppress a shiver as you turn, only to see Tohma’s smirk mere inches from your face.

Oh, this bastard. He knows.

His hand reaches out to secure the kettle before you can drop it in shock, closing over yours in a soft steadiness as you blink.

“Steady, now,” he murmurs. Whether he’s referring to the kettle in your hands or the irregular bump of your heart, you will never know. His eyes drift briefly down your face, before he turns to set the electric kettle back on the table.

“Well,” he says, unreadable smile back in place like he hasn’t just melted half your braincells, “I have work to do.“

He steps away, bowing slightly; the absence of his body next to yours is immediately noticeable in the empty chill that follows.

“Best to get Jin his tea soon,” he adds, nudging his monocle up the bridge of his nose, and with that he disappears into the cold darkness of Frostheim, leaving you with the swirl of steam from the kettle and the swirl of thoughts in your brain.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tohma ishibashi #contributing to the small number of tohma fics in this fandom #also smug bastard tohma is my favourite brand of tohma #alphabet series #HEHEHEH OK I GET TO POST MY MASTERLIST NOW TAHT THERE'S MORE THAN ONE FIC.....#also yes this title is from my smug!tohma assigned song gorgeous by tswift thank u for listening

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bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

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Betty's Wee Blurbs & HC's

say goodnight - an ode to fic writers

cat thief eddie - Eddie accidentally steals your cat

one-hour photo - 90's Eddie - ode to a disposable camera

produceManager!Eddie - grocery store flirtations

giving head - giving eddie scalp/ear massage

cake eddie - a dream about eating your boyfriend

out on the highway - 2000's gas station Eddie in Oregon

eddie warms your car up on a snowy morning

full service - you and eddie like to play a little game when you flirt like you don't know each other

pick your poison collection

winter - eddie helps you through the winter blues

towtruck!eddie hallmark christmas

a very hawkins christmas

monster cookies - biker!steve, Robin & Oliver

perv!eddie smut

sex with eddie after a long day

eddie on The Price is Right

hustler!steve

nightmare!eddie

gargoyle!eddie smut

biker!eddie sits for a painting

the monsters on maple street - a wwdits/stranger things blend

the corner of heartache & jameson - cemetery meet cute

kingpin au - wayne's cousin is Roy Munson from the movie Kingpin

#Betty's blurbs #Eddie Munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #masterlist #I have to keep these together or I will never find them again #Eddie Munson #I think there is more than this but now I can't find them

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grocerystorelist · 9 months ago

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night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

a stranger lights your cigarette outside the club, setting something else in you aflame. what follows could burn you down with it. inspired by this from @toomuchracket <3

minors dni. dom/sub, lots of d word, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding a bit (not sure where that came from) and way too much possessiveness for a hookup

wc: 3632 thank u @think0fmehigh for reading this over and finding me the 2nd pic!! ok enjoy everyone <3

You lean against the brick outside the club, cold biting through the back of your jacket. A few people are milling about and chatting, smoke clouding the air. Beside you is a man with buzzed bleached hair, jawline cutting through the chill of the night as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stares down the street, seemingly fixated on something in the haze, and you bite the urge to shuffle closer to him, to ask him what’s on his mind. Rolling your ankle, you let out a content sigh as you slide down the wall, digging for the lighter in your pocket. After a few flicks, you frown. It’s not working.

The man tilts his head down. “Hey,” he says. You look up. He nods his head towards the lighter in his hand, holding out a hand to help you up. “Need a light?” You accept it gratefully, hoisting yourself up. You fumble out the pack from your pocket, hanging one from your lips as you slide closer to him. He raises his eyebrow as he holds up the flame. It’s a challenge. Another step closer, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek as you dip your head to touch your cigarette to the light. He smells like whiskey and his own cigarettes, and you slip under his outstretched arm to lean against him as you inhale the first lungful of peace.

The muscles of his arm flex around you, the quiet display of strength renewing the blush on your cheeks. The two of you smoke in silence, but you swear you can feel the burn of his gaze on your face as you look resolutely ahead, unwilling to betray just how hot you think he is. A huff of air ghosts over you, and you snap, bringing your head up, staring at his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” you breathe. A beat. He groans and snakes an arm around you, pulling you into his body, pink lips crashing into yours. He takes a step to cage you into the wall, a broad hand rising to cushion your head from the brick, to press you further into his embrace. He kisses hungrily, and you wind your arms around his neck as his other hand travels up your leg to grab your ass, pushing and hitching you up. Dizzy, you pull away to catch your breath, a string of spit stretching between you for a moment as you giggle, looking up and down the street to see if there are still others around.

He sets you down, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in just how disheveled you are from your brief kiss. You smooth your hair and tug your skirt down, wiping across your face to get the rest of the lipgloss he hasn’t kissed away.

“I could really use another cig right now,” you laugh, pulling your pack back out to grab one, winking as you motion for his lighter. You’ve barely exhaled the smoke before he’s kissing you again, tongue desperately searching for a taste of the tobacco in your mouth as his hand cups your jaw. It’s brief, but combined with the nicotine it sends you into a headrush, vision clouding over as his tongue swipes over yours.

He steps back and pockets the lighter with a smirk, crushing the end of your cigarette under his sneaker. “See you back in there, princess. I’m George, by the way. Let me know if you need another light.” The door shuts behind him. The bubbles in your chest grow until you spin around, dizzy from the feel of his arms around you, the press of his forearm slung around your neck. You want his hands pushing into the flesh of your throat, long fingers wrapped all the way around your fucking neck.

You tilt your head back against the wall, laughing at the absurdity of it. Coming back in, you text your friends, before you swipe open your phone’s camera to look at the state of your makeup. Lips ruined, but otherwise relatively intact. You wonder what you’d look like if you went home with him.

Back in the club, you find your friends dancing in the same spot you left them, and you drag them to a table to get them a round as you tell them what happened outside. You lean forward on your elbows on the sticky tables as your best friend bats your arm, the group of them looking around to try and spot him. He’s tall, but low light and music make it hard to focus on one face for longer than a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” drunkenly exclaims one of them, craning her neck to look into the dark corners of the club. You haven’t spotted him either since you came back inside, but you’re resolved to make the most of the night.

“Come on,” you say, swiping more lipgloss on. “Let’s go dance.”

You get down to the old pop blasting through the speakers of the club, spinning around and round until you’re dizzy. Every time you spot someone ridiculously tall out of the corner of your eye, heat shoots between your legs, only to be met with a twinge of disappointment when you realize it’s not him. Your friends try to distract you, pulling you closer to dance with them, laughing and singing along as you move together.

“He was probably a boring lay anyways,” one of them shouts, shaking her head. You nod with assent, eyes wandering now to see if you can salvage this night. But before you can land on another target, you feel the heat of a hand on your hip, pulling you away from your friends to spin you around.

“Was worried you forgot about me, princess,” George breathes into your ear, hips moving in time with yours. “Thought you found someone else.” You grasp his shoulders and grind into him, rolling your hips into the growing bulge of his jeans.

“I’m all yours for tonight if you want me.” You can feel his smile against your forehead, lips stretching to press a kiss there. “But what is it you want, darling?” George asks, biceps flexing as he grabs your ass, the black fabric of your skirt bunching in his fist. You know he can feel the lace of your underwear beneath them, pink lace growing damper by the second the longer his hand remains that close to your aching core.

“Want everything,” you gasp into his mouth, finally kissing him again. He breaks away before you can tug him further into you. “Gonna give me a name, first?” George teases, intertwining your fingers together. You reply with a wince, internally cringing at your haste, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to tug you in the direction of the door, hands practically encircling yours.

“Wait,” you shout over the music, gesturing behind you. “Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” Weaving through the crowd with George in tow you spot your best friend looking utterly blissed out, dancing without a care in the world. Tapping on her arm, you blush as she does an almost comical double take, eyeing George up next to you. “We’re going,” you say, letting out a laugh as she blinks.

‘Have fun, darling,” she responds. “See you soon!” The two of you turn to go, and you’re turning on your location as George opens his rideshare app, swiping through it. You burst into the cool night, the quiet of the street making you even more aware of the rush in your ears as you look at him, stark features highlighted by the single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

“Mine or yours, sweetheart?” George asks, thumbing open the address bar. “I’m fifteen minutes away.” He stands patiently, a far cry from the intensity you just felt in the club. You can tell he wants you to feel safe – letting you go back to your flat even though it would be a much longer drive.

“Yours,” you insist. “Shorter drive.” The car pulls up almost immediately, sleek and black as you pile into the back. George puts his hand on your leg as the two of you wait, the heat in the back of the car almost so stifling you want to roll the window down. Every bump in the road has you clenching around nothing, wishing he would slide his hand just a little further up your thigh to relieve you.

Soon enough you’re at the front door of his flat, hands clasped as he unlocks the door, ushering you in and closing it behind you. The two of you pause for a moment before he has you up against the door, kissing along your neck.

“I want to mark this pretty throat up,” he groans, pausing in one spot to suck a red mark on your flesh, the line of his body pressing you hard into the door. You want to be utterly overwhelmed by him tonight, for him to take over your body and clear your mind until there’s only one thing it’s filled with.

“You can do anything you want.” You mewl as he gets a leg between your thighs, grinding against him, his denim against your lace as you rub your clit on his leg. He lets you take control for a moment, letting out a low laugh when you give up, frustrated that you’re not getting what you need.

“Let me take you to bed, princess.” He carries you to his room, licking up the salt on the side of your throat. The heat of his tongue sends shudders down your body, clit pulsing with need. The denim of his jeans juts out, and you grind your hips onto the rigid line of him, wet underwear sticking to you.

“Please, George, need you,” you whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck. He sets you down atop your sheets, kneeling between your legs as he guides your head to the pillow. His eyes are practically black, pupils expanded to drink in the sight of your heaving chest and the purple now littered across your neck. “Please, Daddy.”

That’s what gets him – he lets out a low moan as he palms himself over his jeans, broad knuckles and glinting silver rings groping the dark patch you left on him. “Say it again, princess.”

“Want your cock, Daddy.” You whine, damp hands fisting the sheets below you for any semblance of sanity, of stability. You feel like you’re on another plane of existence, hurtling somewhere where you’re reduced to a single pinpointed sensation between your thighs.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s cock to keep you happy?” George groans as he unzips his jeans, precum dotting his white briefs as he slips a hand below the elastic, lightly stroking as his other one comes up to rub light figures on your clit. You moan, hips jolting finally at the stimulation, and you realize he’s drawing letters across your folds. “R - G - E,” you catch, and he begins his attack anew on the bundle of nerves. “G - E - O - R - G - E.” His mouth remains slightly open, shiny and swollen pink lips betraying the pants he lets out as his eyes devour the sight of your puffy folds.

“Going to be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?” You sob as his manicured nails tease your hole, finally working one in, stroking across your soft insides. George kneels above you, frantically shoving his briefs down as he maintains the rhythm inside you. His thighs bracket yours, tensing in time with his strokes, with the squeezes to his cock.

Your eyes widen a fraction, somehow even more turned on at the fact of finally seeing just how big he is. George catches this and tugs at himself again, the angry red tip disappearing into his fist. “Gotta get you nice and stretched for Daddy’s cock, need you to come again for me, princess.” He slides another finger in, the burn of the stretch radiating throughout your body as your cunt clenches around George’s two fingers, trying to accommodate them.

He bends down to lick at your clit, continuing to massage the soft spot inside of you, relentless as your legs kick under his frame. You wail, finally falling apart, pulsing around his digits as he fingers you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. “So pretty falling apart for me, princess.”

“Need more,” you mewl, legs shifting farther apart to situate him between them. George slowly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to lick at the slick stringing between them. The milky white of your juices swirls atop the black of his nails, bursts of your pleasure disappearing as his tongue laps them up.

“Fucking love your pussy.” George kneels over you, hand grasping at your jaw as he stares intently into your eyes. “Be a good girl and open up for me, now.” Your jaw drops open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. He spits red-hot into your mouth, wet fingers digging in to shut the taste of you into your mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.”

“Going to be a good slut for Daddy?” He murmurs, “Open your legs again.” You spread yourself under his gaze, cunt still glistening from your orgasm, clenching around nothing. “Wider.” He grunts, grabbing your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder, sucking at the soft flesh.

“Do you have a condom, baby?” He holds himself still above you, eyes intense as he searches yours for an answer. You shake your head resolutely no, tugging him down.

“On the pill, Daddy, want you to fill me up.” George moans as he fists his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds. His tip catches against your hole, and you involuntarily clench, trying to draw him into you finally. Your back sticks uncomfortably to the sheets, damp with your sweat as you shift, anticipating George.

“Going to put it in now, going to be good for Daddy?” You nod furiously, hands running up and down George’s arms as he finally guides himself inside. He slides in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses back and forth across your cheekbones.

“So fucking tight, princess,” he groans, biceps trembling as he stills inside you. “So wet and tight, all for me.” You whimper, overwhelmed, mind clouded in a haze of George. As the moments pass, you feel your insides practically rearranging for him, welcoming him into your dripping cunt.

You drop a hand to dip into his lower back, pressing in to tell him to start, to claim you as his. He draws out slowly, leaving only the tip of his dick nestled in your folds. You whine at the sudden loss, grasping at the sheets, clenching around air. He thrusts back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ” you moan. You’ve never felt more full in your life, the throbbing pressure inside your cunt leaving you squirming up the bed, only to be tugged back down onto George’s cock. Tears spill out of your eyes as he builds up a steady rhythm, damp chests dragging across each other, your tits sticking with the sweat from both your bodies.

He rails into you, alternating between harsh, quick thrusts and deep ruts that leave you gasping, every ridge of his cock dragging along the most tender parts of you. “It’s all for Daddy, isn’t it? Cute little hole all mine to use." You grab at the sheets again but your palms are too damp, your body jolting as George pounds into your body.

You feel dirty and overwhelmed, everything reduced to the singular point in the body where you connect, feeling the drag and pressure inside of you. You press down on your lower belly, crying out “I can feel you, Daddy, so big in me.” George’s hand dwarfs your own, holding it down as he pushes further, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing as he rails into you.

“Taking me so well baby,” he groans, and he spits down at where the two of you are conjoined. “Want to come inside you princess, stuff you full.” Dazed, you can only nod, hurtling towards the edge. He reaches down to touch your clit, calluses rubbing as the fire in your lower belly suddenly roars over you. Your vision goes white as you come, a supernova as your slick leaks out around his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering. George has been slowly rutting into you as the last of the shockwaves roll over you, but he picks up the intensity as your eyes refocus, no longer glazed over. All you can do is lie there and take it as his thrusts shift you up the bed, his burning eyes never leaving yours as he plays with your tits.

“Fuck, gonna make you mine,” George rasps. You can feel when he starts to come, his whole body tightening up as he curls into your neck, shooting warm spurts of cum inside, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Everything in your brain stops as his cock pulses in your overstimulated cunt, leaving you satiated and blissed out, eyes sliding shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Eventually, he slips his softened cock out, kissing you hard on the mouth as you wince, suddenly so empty.

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch.

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought.

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.

#Sorryyyy description is more dramatic than it is but I kind of want to write a follow up where it would actually make sense #I feel filthy oh god. godbless george bedford daniel and godbless boiler room content #george daniel smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel x you #masterlist

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untilnextchapter · 1 year ago

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Masterlist : Criminal Minds

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid x Reader

* = Smut (Minors DNI) II Beware of the TW please

Basically anything from @imagining-in-the-margins but here my very favourites:

Different dialects (Fem!Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.)

Impromptu (Fem!Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.)

Fairytales (Dad!Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.)

Growing Pains (Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.)

From @fortheloveofwonderland (check her whole masterlist, you won't be disappointed):

A Memory Locked in the Heart (Fem!Reader, eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.)

Mothers Daughter (fem! single mom! Reader, your mother was a keeper of secrets. She kept them so well, for so long she even managed to keep them hidden from herself. And now you find yourself face to face with the love of your life after ten years, you find yourself starting to wonder if you are your mothers daughter after all. Reunion Challenge)

We continue with the lovely @foxy-eva (all her masterlist is worth the checking, just go go~):

Reflections (Fem! Reader, the kindness Spencer Reid shows to a child seems to impress Fem!Reader a little too much)

Lipstick Stains * (Fem!Reader, the shade of your new lipstick is too much for Spencer to handle)

Miscellaneous Authors:

Any Other Weigh @reidsaurora (Fem!Reader, a small collection of stories about the times Spencer told Y/N about how big their baby was getting every week)

The Lanky Guy in Room 603 @samuel-de-champagne-problems (Fem!Reader, Meeting in the delivery room with midwife Y/N)

A Trip to Remember @dr-spencer-reids-queen (Mermaid!Reader, For three thousand years, you’ve known only what the lake has to offer you. No human contact for three thousand years, yet, always being surrounded by them. Everything changes when you meet Spencer Reid)

Dear Theodosia @violetrainbow412-blog (Fem!Reader, Dad!Spencer stays one afternoon to care for your three-month-old twins and reflects on how much he loves them)

Darling & Dandelion @eideticmemory (Fem!Reader, Spencer is a lot of things to you. Your baby daddy, your lover, your best friend, and a massive pain in your ass)

Friends to lovers with Spencer @gtgbabie0 (Fem!Reader, Spencer needs comfort)

BFF @babymetaldoll (Fem!Reader, Spencer meets his best friend from school after 12 years apart)

Wife @specialagentlokitty (Autistic!Reader, Spencer Reid with a wife who is autistic and when she comes to visit the team doesn’t know what to do until Reid comes and finds her sitting at his desk)

10 Days @boldlyvoid (Fem!Reader, it's Spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are)

Here for you @weird-is-life (Fem!Reader, 4 times you take care of Spencer and one time he takes care of you)

[Not named] @tinyluvs (Fem!Reader, Being Spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time)

[Not named] @ddejavvu (GN!Reader, Spencer Reid and s/o who bites their nails)

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Basically check all the masterlist of @specialagentlokitty but here are my favourites Aaron ones:

Please help me (Teen!Reader, Reader has abusive parents and Hotch and reader are neighbors and reader asks Hotch for help knowing he’s an FBI agent) TW: Abusive Parents

Safe (Child!Reader, Aaron rescues her from a kidnapping but then refuses to leave her side at the hospital)

As slow as you need (Fem!Reader, Hotch x reader where reader flinches) TW: Mentions of abusive ex

Miscellaneous Authors:

Can't Lose You @reidsaurora (Fem!Reader, When Hotch gets attacked during a case and ends up in the hospital, Y/N realizes she can't lose him without telling him about her feelings)

Derek Morgan x Reader

The first time @specialagentlokitty (Fem!Reader, Dancing at JJ's wedding)

Obsession @dr-spencer-reids-queen (Fem!Reader, You’re a target for someone who is obsessed with you, and so you offer yourself as bait to catch the guy)

Like a date? @dr-spencer-reids-queen (Fem!Reader, Your older sister brings you to her work, and you get a lot more than you bargained for)

Spring Carnival @storiesofsvu (Fem!Reader, Sweet time at the carnival)

Placing bets @cafeacademia (Fem!Reader, Since you started at the BAU, you and Derek have picked up a fun way to get to know more about each other. By making bets, the person who wins gets to ask any question they like to the loser and the loser much answer truthfully. But maybe there's a bit more that just a bit of fun to the bets...)

It's Always Been You @reidsaurora (Fem!Reader, When Agent Y/N Y/L/N gets injured on the job, Derek Morgan is the one to take care of her afterward. However, neither of them expected that him simply cleaning her wounds would turn into a love confession)

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hanafubukki · 7 months ago

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Happy Three Year Anniversary 🥹💚🌺

It’s my three year anniversary since I first started writing fanfics on tumblr. I think back about the first time I published fanfics on here and everyone I met along the way because of that one moment of time.

When I took that step to allow myself to express/be myself and publish something I wrote. It led to meeting so many wonderful people here and irl and I am forever grateful to myself and to all of you.

I am forever grateful for all the encouragement you all give me and I can’t say it enough. Be it comments, asks, reblogs, likes, tagging or what have you.

Everyday is fun and brings a smile to my face. I look forward to the future because of it.

So really, thank you everyone. I’m so happy to have met and interacted with you and hope to continue to do so ☺️💚🌺

#Hana announces #I always feel a bit shy posting stuff like this but I really am grateful and wanted to express myself #I’ve been on tumblr longer than three years but only just started writing again after more than a decade and realized my anniv for my first #fanfic was coming and #been feeling very nostalgic lately and very grateful for everything and all I have met #I have been having so much fun the last several years #its that joy i can hold onto always despite the hard times #thank you again 💞💞💚💚#will probably change some stuff around on my masterlist and profile #and edit mt pin post too #to make it more succinct #but that will be weekend Hana worries

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iamthat-iam · 7 months ago

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All is one.

There are no words to perfectly describe the TRUTH of what's truly going on here.

Everything is an empty appearance that comes and goes. Nothing is set in stone.

To say one has pink hair or one has blue hair, they are both equally illusory. Neither are objective facts.

If you claim to have pink hair but to me you appear to have blue hair, I would mind my business and go about my day. The blue hair isn't a solid, permanent appearance anyway so who am I to tell them they're wrong?

At the end of the day what are colors anyway? The scientific explanation with light rays and frequencies making colors appear the way they do, is just an UNREAL CONCEPT at the end of it all.

It's all nothingness, or " ". Don't argue and say "but I see-" you see nothing. We've all said you're not perceiving anything with "senses" as these are just an empty appearance as well.

Who cares?? Once again we're getting so caught up in unreal appearances that we have strayed from what the philosophy is actually about: ALL IS ONE, NO SEPERATION, NO THIS OR THAT, NOT TWO

#nondualism #nothingness #advaita vedanta #posting more than normal to put some of these arguments to rest 😭#adding this to the masterlist

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aryomengrande · 18 days ago

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12:00 am (feat. haruchiyo sanzu) by luvzayne [ fluff ]

a comforting touch (feat. feat. hanma shuji, kisaki tetta, rindou haitani, izana kurokawa, kakucho) by shujistars [ comfort, fluff ] : tokyo revengers boys when you're hurt or in pain.

accidents happen (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ran haitani, haruchiyo sanzu) by anisespice [ nsfw ] : in which they discover you had their child and kept it from them all these years later.

addicted (feat. takashi mitsuya) by yuuuhiii [ slight nsfw ]

are you delusional ?! (feat. manjiro ‘mikey’ sano) by musings-ofthe-unamused [ fluff ]

at your service (feat. manjiro ‘mikey’ sano) by iamk1llua [ nsfw ] : bonten!mikey comes home to find a random stranger in his bed.

does he know ? (feat. takashi mitsuya) by jeanboyjean [ fluff ]

excuse me, that’s not my name ! (feat. chifuyu matsuno) by otomestatus [ fluff ] : his girlfriend being called by his last name

exoneration (feat. ken ‘draken’ ryuguji) by theygottheircages [ angst, comfort, nsfw ]

hairstylist (feat. ken ‘draken’ ryuguji) by piichuu [ fluff ]

handul (feat. rindou haitani) by seoulmatez [ fluff ]

humming you to sleep or humming while he thinks you're sleeping (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano) by prncessrindou [ fluff ]

i know we just met, but i love you (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno) by armxnh [ fluff ] : love at first sight with the tokyo revengers men

late night rides (if you don’t hold his waist) (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, keisuke baji, chifuyu matsuno, kazutora hanemiya) by kryannoy [ fluff ]

kabedon (feat. izana kurokawa, takashi mitsuya, & shuji hanma) by stunies [ fluff ]

kiss it better (feat. manjiro ‘mikey’ sano) by dlscenarios [ nsfw ] : mikey with a reader who enjoys taking care of him and being affectionate but they aren't dating, so he assumes it's just her personality.

my girl (feat. keisuke baji) by luvzayne [ fluff ] : in which baji rejects you then comes to regret it.

need (feat. shinichiro sano) by dearkiryu [ nsfw ]

pocky game (feat. takashi mitsuya) by ranhaitanisgf [ fluff ]

ride with me (feat. shinichiro sano) by jeanboyjean [ nsfw ] : you go to a bar to meet up with one of your dating app prospects but he stood you up. you’re drinking your sorrows away when the guy next to you catches your eye.

room for one more (feat. shinichiro sano) by hoejosatoru [ nsfw ] : seeing how you cares for his little siblings makes shinichiro want to have a child of his own with you.

sleepless nights (feat. takashi mitsuya) by yuuuhiii [ fluff ]

so love me like you do (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, keisuke baji, shuji hanma) by dr4kenlvr [ fluff ]

spending the night for the first time (feat. chifuyu matsuno, ken 'draken' ryuguji, hakkai shiba, hanma shuji, manjiro 'mikey' sano) by justauthoring [ fluff ]

tolerance (feat. haruchiyo sanzu) by haruwuchiyoo [ nsfw ]

unexpected (feat. takashi mitsuya) by dazaiandhislovelybandages [ fluff ]

watch my boyfriend for me (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, chifuyu matsuno, rindou haitani, ran haitani, keisuke baji, kazutora hanemiya, haruchiyo sanzu) by luvzayne [ fluff ]

your lips (feat. shuji hanma, seishu inui, hajime kokonoi, rindou haitani, ran haitani, kakucho) by kemistre [ suggestive ] : who knew catching him staring at your lips would turn into something more.

you're an angel, i'm a dog (feat. haruchiyo sanzu) by white-poppie [ fluff ]

the unholy trinity series by meraki_written [ nsfw ] | I: to kill an empire (feat. haruchiyo sanzu) — II: doll face (feat. rindou haitani) — III: legs that won't walk (feat. ran haitani)

gang baby (feat. rindou haitani and wakasa imaushi) by prncessrindou [ nsfw ]

cats or dogs (feat. feat. hanma shuji, kisaki tetta, ken "draken" ryuguji, kakucho) by shujistars [ fluff ]

cute headcanons pt. 1 (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, keisuke baji, chifuyu matsuno, takemichi hanagaki, souya kawata nahoya kawata, hakkai shiba, kazutora hanemiya, hajime kokonoi, seishu inui, shuji hanma) by beeing1alive [ fluff ]

being hajime kokonoi's s/o by ariachaos [ fluff ]

being shinichiro sano's s/o by ariachaos [ fluff ]

haitani brothers with a hairstylist s/o by tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang [ fluff ]

how are babies made by b0nten (feat. ran haitani, rindou haitani, haruchiyo sanzu, takeomi akashi, kakucho, manjiro 'mikey' sano and izana kurokawa) [ fluff ]

how they would react if they had a crush on a shy girl, so they always stare at her, but she thinks they’re glaring and gets scared (feat. ran haitani, rindou haitani, haruchiyo sanzu, keisuke baji, and kazutora hanemiya) by tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang [ fluff ]

personal trainer!kakucho by manjjiros [ nsfw ]

reacting to little kids wooing you by vixensbrainrotts (feat. various tokyo revengers men) [ fluff ]

one time for the birthday bitch (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, keisuke baji, chifuyu matsuno, kazutora hanemiya) by anisespice [ suggestive, fluff ]

random texts #1 (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji) by anisespice (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji) [ nsfw ]

search history (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, shinichiro sano, keisuke baji, shuji hanma) by katsune-nya

the other man (feat. manjiro 'mikey' sano, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, keisuke baji, kazutora hanemiya) by six-eyed-samurai [ fluff ]

haruchiyo sanzu | ☆*

kazutora hanemiya | ☆

keisuke baji | ☆

manjiro 'mikey' sano | ☆

rindou haitani | ☆*

← masterlist | page 2 →

← back to navigation

#fromaryg: masterlist #fromaryg: tr lit mlist #bro fuck this ik i have more than this #some of it wont appear on my 'agora hills: tr' tag #🥴#anyway #support the writers #tokyo revengers #tr #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n

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beldaroot · 3 months ago

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palestinian funds requests

@hayanahed and her family of 8, two members who have allergies to medicine, are trying to evacuate from gaza after fleeing from north gaza. their gofundme campaign is verified by operation olive branch (€77,787/€100,000 goal)

@nesmamomen and her family of 12, several members who are in critical condition and facing skin infections, are trying to evacuate from gaza. their gofundme campaign is verified by @/el-shab-hussein ($111,969/$150,000 goal)

@salem-baker, his wife, and two kids had their home destroyed in north gaza and are trying to evacuate from gaza. their gofundme campaign is verified by @/90-ghost (€6,016/€38,000 goal)

@ayaalanqarsblog, her husband, and three kids had their home destroyed and have already been displaced 13 times within gaza. their gofundme campaign was shared by @/90-ghost (€9,453/€15,000 goal)

@aya2mohammed and his family - his parents who both have diabetes and his three kids have now contracted scabies - are in urgent care for treatment and evacuation from gaza. their gofundme campaign has been vetted by @/nabulsi (€25,452/€50,000 goal)

please donate if you are able to!

#these are requests i've received while i was away #i wanted to reply to each individual request but unfortunately i know people on here engage with masterlists more than multiple posts #signal boost #free palestine

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angry-geese · 1 year ago

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Cardinal Copia x Reader

Warnings: not osha compliant//nsfw. fluff and smut; oral (cunnilingus), overstimulation, afab reader. use of petnames (ex. my love)

synopsis: copia and the reader decide to spend a morning in :) i just wanted an excuse to write smut tbh

word count: 3.5k

Rain from the previous night has carried well into this morning, and shows little signs of stopping. Dawn is bleak and gray as it crests upon the horizon. In your state—stuck between the waking world, and sleep—you reach out for him, finding the bed beside you cold. The little villa Copia calls home lies empty, save for you, and the constant tick tick tick of the clock on the wall.

Despite his absence, you’re in no rush to get up. On a Saturday morning, there’s little more to do than basic chores, or lazing around the house. Maybe you’ll catch up on some reading, or perhaps some leftover paperwork—Sister Imperator seems to love her paperwork. Perhaps you could start with the sweeping, or dishes, but both tasks sound especially dull. Staying in bed sounds like a preferable option.

Outside, the incoming storm has rendered the sky dark, and the cobblestone path shiny. Fat droplets of water race down the window pane, spilling into the rocks below. Clouds are low enough that the tops of trees are obscured. Somewhere, not too far off, the abbey’s bells ring out, signaling the hour. Nine O’Clock. Various siblings will be gathering for mass soon; an optional ritual which only the most devoted—or those with nothing better to do—will attend. Copia will most likely be there. Certainly Sister Imperator will be.

When the door to the bedroom finally cracks open, the most movement you’ve made is that of rolling onto your side. The bed dips under his weight as he sits. A hand smooths over your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear.

It’s about that point in which you roll over to face him. Copia’s red cassock is replaced with a much more casual button down, and trousers. Black, although some red stitching is visible as he rolls up his sleeve. A nice touch.

“I didn't mean to wake you,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“You didn't.” You say. “I’ve been awake.”

The yawn that leaves you seems to say otherwise. You scoot back a bit on the bed, and he sits, tugging his pillow away from the headboard. Copia sighs, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. He doesn't seem to quite know what to do with his hands as they switch between laying limply at his sides, and fiddling with the top-most button of his shirt.

You reach out to him, and he takes your hand, only to be pulled back to bed by you. A soft “oof” leaves him as his head hits the pillow, mere inches from yours.

“You’re back early today,” you say, “was there no meeting?”

“Terzo was terribly late,” he says, “and Sister had other important matters to attend to.”

“So you skipped work? How scandalous…” you say flatly.

Copia makes a show of rolling his eyes, though a small smile tugs at his lips. “Says the one still in bed. Isn’t it nearly ten?”

“Does our dark lord not revel in sloth?” You ask.

In reality, you have kitchen duty this week, and you’re dreading it greatly.

In theory, you could use your position so close to someone in the upper clergy to your favor. Little things like job assignments, roommates, special meals. Names could be swapped, tabled tipped in your odds. You know better than to do such a thing. Sister Imperator’s ire isn't something you want to earn, and she is aware of most things in the abbey.

Copia must not find it within himself to argue with you. And though his eyes are closed, you know very well he’s awake. You move closer to him, seeking the warmth of another body. He accepts you openly, allowing you into the space directly against him. You lean forward to kiss him—just a quick peck on the cheek. Copia catches you on your way back, pulling you in for a proper kiss. The taste of coffee lingers on his lips.

“Is there any left?” You ask. “Coffee, I mean.”

When his eyes open, a look of guilt is visible within them. “I’ll make more.” He says.

And though you wish to stay in bed just a little while longer, you trail after Copia. The hallway leads directly into a small, but cozy living room. Shelves are stacked floor to ceiling with books, some old, some new. More wood goes into the fire, and the kettle is set on the stove to boil. The remnants of last night’s tea remain on the coffee table, aside half-read books, and video game controllers. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, shifting pillows and blankets to make room for yourself. Copia settles onto the couch beside you not long after, fishing the TV remote out from between two pillows. At this hour of the morning, nothing interesting is going to be on cable; shopping channels and reruns of game shows are the only programs available.

“What a dreary morning,” you comment, resting your head in your hands.

“I like the rain.” Copia says.

It was his timidness, and devotion to his work that first caught your attention; the passing glances in the hall, the looks that lasted slightly longer than they should have. By all accounts—his upbringing, his way of life—Copia should be a different kind of man. Sleazy. Lecherous. Rough around the edges. Someone who takes more than he needs, and does so greedily. But behind his strange exterior lies a timid, sweet man. A strange tenderness is behind each of his actions.

You never would have realized it if it weren't for Terzo’s scheming nature. Maybe one day you should thank him.

This rare, quiet moment is interrupted by the whistling of the kettle. Copia hops up to attend it, returning later with two mugs. Before, you never were much of a fan of coffee, but countless late nights and early mornings in the clergy gave you a new appreciation for it.

“How do you take yours?” Copia asks, although he already knows the answer.

“Sugar and cream if you have it,” you say.

He does.

Maybe a minute passes before he returns to the living room, carrying a mug in each hand. He settles back onto the couch, and when the opportunity to sprawl out presents itself, you take it, laying your legs across his lap. One of his hands trails along the curve of your leg. The other finds the remote, mindlessly flipping through channels. Copia eventually settles on a cooking show, although neither of you are paying attention to it.

Moments like this are fleeting—something to be savored—and that adds to your reluctance to get up. His hand ghosts up the side of your calf in slow, repetitive motions. Soothing. The pads of his fingers are rough, but gentle. Copia’s attention turns from the TV, back to you. The corners of his lips twitch upwards in the slightest hint of a smile.

“What?” You ask quietly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Who knew one little librarian would corrupt me so much,” he says.

That earns an eye roll, and a quiet laugh from you. “Me? Really?” You say.

“I used to be a pious man,” he says, “deeply devoted to my work and…”

“And I showed you there was more to life than work.” You say, and he nods.

What is the fun of the clergy if you can't relish in life��s luxuries? Much of your life was spent burying your own needs for the sake of others. Once you found a place you belong, and could truly, freely exist, you had years to make up for. A life to live freely and love fully.

Of course, Copia was born into this life. Perhaps he doesn't know the difference.

You tuck your legs back under you, leaning against his shoulder. Copia is quick to make room for you, looping an arm around your waist. His gaze falls to the bare curve of your legs. Nothing too scandalous. At least, not more scandalous than being found barely-clothed in his bed. Yet if you ask him, he’ll say something about appreciating the view regardless.

It’s a dangerous game you are playing, tangling your limbs with a member of the upper clergy. The various cardinals and papa’s are no stranger to casual relations. Casual sex, and one night stands come with the position. People love shiny, new things. They love to feel in power if only for a night. But to form a long term relationship—let alone one with the son of Sister Imperator—would be to put a target on one’s back. Not a great idea if you wish to fly under the radar.

Copia is not papa, and you will not be his prime mover.

This time, when he kisses you, there’s more of a need behind it. A set of warm hands find your cheeks—then your hair—pulling you impossibly close. The cardinal is typically a patient man, but today brings a strange desperation.

You can't help but wonder just what happened in the meeting this morning. Did Terzo say something to him?

When he pulls away, a line of saliva connects your lips to his. Warmth blooms in your chest, spreading out into your extremities. You pray he can't pick up on your racing heart. Probably not from such a distance, but the feeling of it beating within your chest is too much to ignore.

“Sister Imperator is less than pleased with how distracted I have been from my work,” he says.

So it was Imperator then?

“Was it not you that first distracted me from my work?” You ask, a coy smile spreading across your lips. “If my memory is correct, it was you who instigated that night at the library…”

If anyone is to blame for this, then it is Terzo. Without him, your little crush on the cardinal would have gone nowhere.

Copia separates himself from you just enough to slide off the couch, coming to rest upon his knees. “And who would I be to resist such sweet sin?” He asks.

Was it not the forbidden fruit that tastes most sweet?

He sits on his knees before you like a man bowed in prayer. Truly blasphemous. Your legs part just enough to give him room to settle between them. Copia moves slowly, achingly slowly. It’s not in his nature to be so direct; he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to make the first move.ands trail up your thighs before coming to rest on your hips, pushing up the hem of your—his—shirt. A small hum of approval leaves him as he realizes you have nothing on underneath.

A set of mismatched eyes meet yours, clouded with lust. His shoulders are hunched forwards slightly, head tilted down, gaze trained on you. An expectant look. From here, the once powerful cardinal looks vulnerable now.

If he ever asks, you’ll say you didn't plan this. Really, you didn't, but one has to be a little scheming to last within the clergy.

“What is it, Copia?”

He swallows hard. Your eyes follow his adam's apple as it bobs in his throat. “My love, I wish to taste you,” he says, voice low. “May I?”

“You may.”

He hooks his arms around your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch—that draws a small gasp from you. Now, your legs hang mostly off the couch, coming to rest on his shoulders. Copia’s stubble is rough against your skin as he presses his lips against it, trailing kisses up your thigh. Three on the left, one on the right. Achingly slow. You don't think his movements are meant to be so—you truly think he’s trying to pace himself—but they all feel teasing in nature.

You wish for nothing more than to lean down and kiss him. To hold him gently in the same way he holds you. His tongue traces up your slit once before you can no longer contain yourself, and pull him close, hands guiding him by his hair. From him comes a small, muffled noise of approval.

Copia is a man who claims he is not skilled with his tongue, although that couldn't be further from the truth. He’s no stranger to your taste, your feel, the subtle movements of your body. He laps and sucks like a man starved for weeks, finally presented with a meal. A tongue devoted in total worship, for such reverence can only be that: worship. Moans spill past your lips and you do nothing to stop them. There’s no reason to be quiet in here, nobody is around to hear you. They only seem to make him more eager to please.

You’re reminded of a sermon from a few nights ago. Terzo led it. He would soon become intoxicated, but not before bestowing the crowd with a few words of wisdom:

Our pain, our pleasure…

One finger presses into you. Then another. Curling and pumping into you. The leg that’s no longer supported by his shoulder hangs loosely at your slide.

We devote ourselves to Him…

Sister Imperator looked about ready to strangle him once he started bringing up female orgasms. Maybe he had a point. Maybe Terzo was just alluding to what was going to happen at the afterparty.

The nails on Copia’s free hand dig into your skin. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave little crescent shaped marks. It’s enough to bring your attention back to him, and his mismatched eyes.

A low noise rumbles up from his chest as your grip tightens on his hair. Your own release comes upon you sooner than intended. Copia seems to notice it before you do, continuing to lap at your poor, sensitive clit. You can only writhe helplessly before him as he works you up to—and through—your release. Even then, he is unrelenting, continuing to work you over with his tongue; a mix of lust, pride, and gluttony in their most primal forms.

When Copia does finally pull away, his chin glistens in the low light of the room. You’ve done quite a good job at messing up his hair. It sticks out at strange angles now, and is only slightly fixed when he runs a hand through it. Something in Italian spills past his lips, although you can’t tell if it’s a prayer, or a curse. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, moving to sit beside you on the couch.

Once your shirt comes off, you’re left bare before him, nipples stiffening when exposed to open air. Copia takes you in greedlily, admiring the curves of your body. The angles. The softness of it—you—all. His reverence is a form of worship in its own right. He must be painfully hard now—the bulge in his trousers is a telltale sign of that. Copia palms himself through them, before you lean in to take charge, straddling his lap. Off comes his shirt, a task that takes both of you to complete, your hands fumbling for buttons in unison. His neatly tailored slacks are the next to go, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Your discarded clothes go into a pile on the floor, tossed aside carelessly.

If the circumstances were any different, you’d go through the effort of finding a condom. Today you don't, though, it’s not for a lack of abundance. You wish to feel him in his entirety; limbs tangled, bodies becoming one. Like a pair of horny newlyweds, you’re all over each other. The first kiss he gives you is soft—gentle—but grows more needy as your hands brush across his erection. He lifts his hips just enough for you to tug down his boxers, freeing his hardened cock. Copia must be painfully hard now, yet he still tries to contain himself.

Copia leans back just enough for you to straddle his lap, and you do so, with your thighs on either side of his. The redness on his cheeks has now spread to his chest, and the tips of his ears. His breathing has evened out now. His lips find your neck, but not in a kiss—no, he’s savoring your closeness. His hands find your hips, and yours find his chest, guiding you as you lower yourself onto his hardened cock. There’s a slight sting as you do so—a stretch—although it’s the kind of pain that inevitably feels good. The two of you just fit together so perfectly, you can't help but think.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, combined with a mix of gasps, and moans. Copia’s hands wander up and down the length of your body, finding your hips, thighs, breasts, but never resting in one spot for very long. Your arms wrap around his neck, wrapping around them as you try to find purchase against his body. The couch creaks in protest underneath the two of you. Quiet, nonsensical words of praise spill past his lips, only muffled further when his face is shoved against your breasts. Copia doesn't seem to mind.

“Beautiful—” he huffs, “you’re so beautiful.”

You’d say it back if you could form any words. And he truly is; skin flushed, and slightly shiny with sweat. The veins in his hands are more prominent now—you’ve always had a thing for his hands. The feeling of them around your neck, or down your body. Gloved or not. Taking one of his hands in yours, you bring it to your lips, wrapping them around his pointer and middle finger. He still tastes of you.

Copia’s breath catches in his throat—the muscles in his thighs tense—all telltale signs that he’s going to cum. His nails dig into your hips hard enough to leave little crescent shaped indents. Maybe they’ll bruise. Maybe not. And when he finally cums, he cums hard, spilling into your unprotected womb.

Your second orgasm isn't far off, and you’re still oversensitive from the first. You’re content to chase your own release, grinding down against him. Copia helps you along with his thumb, toying messily with the bundle of nerves. Broken strands of sentences spill through you, and Copia seems to take that as high praise of his work. It comes upon you all at once, like a wave rolling over you, pulling you under and spitting you out wrong. Your thighs are a mess of his cum, and your own. The couch is certainly a mess.

Once again, you feel his stubble against your neck as he presses a kiss to it. Then your cheek, then your forehead. A hand smooths over your hair as your head falls into the crook of his neck.

It’s another moment before you remove yourself from him. If you had any say in the matter, you’d stay like this for the rest of the day. Copia guides you onto the cushion beside him, taking a moment to admire his work; the red nail marks, flushed skin, and cum seeping down your thighs.

“Eh, sorry my love,” he says, and you assume he’s referring to the mess.

“It’s okay,” you say, “it’s not my couch anyway.”

Copia groans as he stands, heading for the kitchen. When he returns, he has a washcloth in his hands. Patting the inner part of your thigh, he motions for you to lay back. Copia takes great care to clean your thighs, dragging the cloth across them. The damn cloth is slightly cold against your skin, although the chill feels nice. An ache has settled into your hips from the events of the morning. Nothing that some ibuprofen won't fix.

“Maybe we should do that in Terzo’s office,” you say, and you swear you feel him twitch beside you, “teach him to miss a meeting…”

“Unfortunately, I think this is something that happens in his office often,” Copia sats, “not much work gets done in there regardless.”

That draws a small laugh from you. You can believe it. You’ve never been to one yourself, but you’ve heard stories of the afterparties Terzo throws. Calling them extravagant is putting it lightly.

Sleepy, and sated, you curl up in the space beside him, and the arm of the couch. The warmth of his body, combined with the smell of his cologne threaten to lull you to sleep. Your body seems to associate him with safety, and as such, staying awake becomes a challenge. You sip from your now-cold coffee, turning your attention back to the TV. Outside, the rain grows heavier, tapping against the windowpane. Fog leaves the outside world in a hazy, dreamlike state. You know at some point in time you’ll have to get up and begin your daily chores. For now, you’re content to stay by Copia’s side.

“I guess the rain isn't so bad,” you say.

“Is that so?” He asks.

A small hum leaves you—a nonverbal confirmation. Maybe the rain isn't so bad. Maybe it was Copia who taught you to like it.

#not osha compliant #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #totally forgot to post this here last night #whoops lol #cross posted on ao3 #editing this somehow took longer than writing it #if i do end up writing more for ghost then ill probably make a masterlist but for now ill jsut link this in my pinned post

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