#pity me. please. at least go look at it on my blog

[thiefofblood]

been sitting on this sketch bc i hated kabru's face but decided to just call it somewhere. did y'all know laios's hair color is maka's hair color learned that with this

commissions | ko-fi | shop

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[sadesluvr]

Ōrālis 

Dr Jonathan Crane was a man of great restraint, but he wouldn’t hold himself back from indulging in your self-gratification. 

A/N: I’ve been secretly obsessed with Crane for a while, and just had to make something based off this post! Vaguely dark content (it’s Crane) so please read the tags before proceeding. Minors + ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 3.1K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Manipulation / Power play / Misogyny / Abuse of power / Dom + Sub elements / Masturbation (fem + afab anatomy) / Scientific terminology / Dialogue heavy / Crane being weird and unsettling (canon) / Reader is wearing a skirt for logistic purposes

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

You never knew why you even bothered to show up to your sessions early anymore.  

Before your previous therapist, Dr Spencer, had retired, you’d used the time to gather your thoughts, perhaps flick through the contents of the random assortment of magazines on the waiting room table, but never to actively contemplate dropping the process entirely whilst staring at a clock, wishing you were anywhere else. Wringing your hands, you shifted uncomfortably on the bench as you tried to suppress the painfully familiar feeling of bile rising to your throat. It was all Dr Crane’s - the Dr Jonathan Crane famed for his work at Arkham – fault, being an uptight, anti-social excuse of a psychiatrist, who, technically, shouldn’t have been treating you regardless. His mutual discontent for the matter was all too obvious, his blunt and borderline disinterested demeanour making you feel that your every thought, choice and emotion was a mistake. 

You’d had a painfully exhausting week, from closing deadlines at your job to your cousins’ wedding plans leaving you feeling like you were on the brink of a breakdown. To make things worse, your bus had broken down on the way in, forcing you to walk four blocks of grimy Gotham streets in the rain. 

Once the door opened – right on the hour at 5PM as usual – you felt like you wanted to die. 

“Might I remind you that this is your time,” his smooth, yet commanding voice said. “If you’d like to waste it, then be my guest.” 

You huffed and shifted in your seat, making small circles with your foot as you held back a frown. If it wasn’t his personality that made things uncomfortable, then it certainly was the fact that he was handsome; rather painfully so for someone in his position. He had dark hair, plump pink lips and a chiselled jaw, all of which were spectacular together but couldn’t compare to his eyes; striking, intense and a sharp blue. His eyes, whilst his best feature, was certainly one of the pitfalls of being in an enclosed room with him. They were always watching; staring into your soul and taking you apart, piece by piece, limb by limb. 

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose before pointing your hand at him in a vaguely accusatory manner. 

“Look, Doctor, I’ve had a long week. Can you spare being snarky for at least a minute?” 

“Interesting that you characterise my frankness as ‘snarky’, Miss L/N,” he said, unmoved by your tone. “It seems like you’re not used to people being direct with you.” 

“I have been, remember? You’ve been treating me for two months now.” You replied sarcastically. 

“Yes, and I haven’t seen much progress,” he said flippantly, pausing to flick through a notebook before looking back up at you. “I suppose I’m now inclined to ask how you are.” 

“I’m amazing,” you said pointedly. “Luck is on my side. I walked here because the bus broke down. Not to mention the fact that I’m four days out from my deadline at work, and I’m probably going to be sick for all of them because of the weather. And my cousin’s wedding is in a month and we still haven’t gotten invitations out, so God knows —“ 

Crane made a small humming sound that stopped your rambling, a small smirk on his face as he did. 

“Did I say something?” You frowned. This man was so self-assured that he found menial, everyday things like this amusing. He probably pitied you.  

“It’s clear to me that you’re doing a lot for other people,” he said. “Work is completely understandable, but preparing a wedding is not. You’re not under any obligation to do this.” 

You blinked, brows furrowing in confusion as you tried to make sense of what he’d said. His lips were folded into a straight line as he watched you unscramble your thoughts, his oh-so powerful gaze making you feel as if you were a blathering idiot. 

“She’s part of my family,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Family help each-other…” 

He angled his head in a small nod. “From my understanding, yes; with aspects such as parenting and homemaking.” 

“Marriage is a kind of homemaking. It’s very common for families across cultures to be involved in matrimony.” You shrugged. 

“Then, what do you suggest you do?” Dr Crane said matter of factly. “Slave over fickle things like necklines and bouquets? What do you gain from torturing yourself in this process?” 

“It’s not about me, it’s about my cousin. She deserves to be happy.” You said through gritted teeth, now inexplicably becoming heated. It was clear that he wasn’t one who had many friends – if any – and a relationship with relatives seemed out of the question.  

“That statement is almost entirely untrue,” Crane said bluntly, brow raised as he cocked his head in a knowing manner. “We as humans are made to be self-serving. I’m not denying that one such as your relative does not deserve to be happy, more that you want something from making her that way.” 

You scoffed. “Are you asking me or telling me?” 

He didn’t answer, but merely swallowed, breaking his gaze with you to look around the room cooly before focusing back on you.  

“I say this because it’s not uncommon for women to experience envy in these positions. Some have the fickle idea that their assistance in the process will bring themselves further along to matrimony,” he stated. “Thus, your apparent stress on the matter paired with your reaction to my previous statement about familial obligation gives me reason to think that you’re particularly jealous of this cousin.” 

You scoffed. 

“That is not true.” 

Crane hummed and adjusted his posture. 

“Is there a significant other in your life?” 

“No…” you replied, your voice practically a mumble at the statement. You were almost a hundred percent sure that he’d known that, given he had Dr Spencer’s files in-front of him. Like most things with him, it was just another way to make you feel small. 

Again, he didn’t follow up the statement but instead moved on. 

“I could go on about how jealousy is a one of the many products of fear, but I’m rather interested about this love life of yours,” he said, placing the notebook on the table below him. “A relationship is one thing, but nowadays there are other options to companionship.” 

You swallowed. 

“I don’t do hookups, nor friends with benefits. They’re too complicated.” 

“I see,” he said. “I wouldn’t write them off too quickly. They can be a fix to what you’re currently experiencing.” 

You raised your brows and shook your head at the implication. Not only was Crane making you feel borderline histrionic for simply having a stressful week but suggesting that you were just succumbing to your base desires was even more insulting. Insulting because on some deep level, you knew it was true. 

Perhaps you just needed a good, old-fashioned fuck for that sweet boost of dopamine and mental clarity.  Truthfully, you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you’d had sex, let alone been in a relationship, to the point that if undoing your virginity was possible you would’ve been Mother Mary herself. 

“Do you partake in masturbation?�� 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to ask me that.” 

“Once again, Miss L/N, that’s untrue,” he said, exhaling as he took off his glasses and folded them into his pocket. “I’m a doctor, and my duty is to help you. Certain ways of masturbation can affect the mind, and I presume that’s one of the sole reasons you came to a therapist. The act releases dopamine, which is certainly good for the brain, not to mention it encourages blood flow to your pelvis,” he said precisely. “Therefore, I ask again. Do you partake in masturbation?” 

He cocked his brow this time; piercing blue eyes fixated on your own. You couldn’t tell if he was getting off on your discomfort, the vision of you touching yourself, or a weird mix of somewhere in-between. For a small man, he had a tremendous way of making you feel alone, as if you were the world, yet so seen. You fiddled with your hands, avoiding his gaze as you answered to the ground, wooden flooring suddenly becoming interesting. 

“I do... I-It’s just been a while...” 

“I’d appreciate it if you answered to me rather than at the floor,” Crane replied before swiftly moving on. “I think we should use the remaining time to work on that.” 

Your heart dropped at the statement, and you finally broke your gaze with the floor to stare at him. 

“H-How —“ 

“Start by making yourself comfortable,” he began. “And place your legs up onto the table as you spread them.” 

You felt ill, yet there was a painful curiosity in your loins that made you want to follow his every command. It was clear that he wanted to present yourself to him, virtually in a platter, and as much as it made you sick that this was a man you despised, you needed this.  “Doctor, I don’t think this is necessary —“ 

“We’ve got forty minutes,” he interjected. “I suggest you make this quick.” 

It’ll make you better, you thought to yourself as you placed your feet onto the table, leaning back as you allowed yourself to relax into the couch. The hem of your skirt rode up as you did, giving him an eyeful of your thighs and up towards your pelvis. Once done, you stared at him expectedly, and he hummed (one that judging by his frown of his lips were of displeasure) getting up from his seat and adjusting you himself. Nothing was ever good enough, something always needed to be fixed. Typical Crane fashion 

His hands were cold on your skin as he spread your legs apart, adjusting your footwork so that he’d be able to see more of you. You shuddered as his fingertips momentarily lingered on your inner thigh, and you suddenly became self conscious of your clamminess derived from the sudden condensation of entering the building. 

“Interesting,” he spoke, cocking a brow as he wrote something down. “You’re clammy to the touch and your legs are trembling. Is there something you fear?” 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. 

“Perhaps this will clear your head,,” he said softly, undeniably amused. “I’m going to guide you through your fears…Remove your underwear.” 

His voice was noticeably more breathy and ragged than previously, and you took a quick glance down at his crotch, which, if you weren’t to be mistaken, was slightly raised, his usually smoothly ironed clothes now somewhat crumpled. Hesitantly, you shifted your hips up to slide your panties down your legs, quickly unnerved at the fact that you didn’t know what to do with them.  

“Put them on the side,” Crane instructed. “Inhale, and place your hand between your thighs. As you exhale, I want you to place your fingers at the top, on your hood.”  

Your chin wobbled nervously as you did so, eyes locked on Jonathan’s own. He swallowed, and you could’ve sworn that you saw his lip tremble in the process. You didn’t know to be scared or proud that he was seemingly anxious about it all. 

“Now begin to stimulate the area as you would if you were alone.” 

You nodded, using two fingers to rub small circles on your hood. Sometimes, when you’d tried in the past, it’d been apparent that there simply wasn’t enough lubrication.  

Today that wasn’t the case. 

The action gave you a tingle, but it wasn’t enough to make you feel better. Jonathan seemed to sense this. 

“Use pressure. It’ll make you feel better.” 

It did. The force of your middle finger down on your sensitive clit hood sent a pulse down you legs, building to a steady rhythm as you resumed your motions. You let out a broken sigh and bit your lip, your restraint a great disappointment to the man across from you. 

“Why must you insist on running from your own pleasure? I want to hear you, and I’d appreciate it if I didn’t have to ask twice.” 

Craning your neck, you willed yourself to let out a moan, finding that it was far easier than you’d expected. It was just one of the many things you let build up in your head. 

“Good.” Crane hummed, and you could’ve sworn that he had unzipped his pants, relieving some pressure from his swollen bulge. “Now, move down to spread your labia apart. Allow yourself to indulge in your deepest fantasies, and use more fingers. I want you to explore yourself for me.” 

Letting out a whimper, your eyes fluttered shut as you found yourself lost in the smooth timbre of his voice; sensuous, pointed, with a deep rumble. It pained you that this man – this antagonist – was the individual within your fantasies, much more the fact that he knew it. How long had he been waiting to do this? 

There was a slight pain upon entering yourself; your walls moulding to accost themselves to the unfamiliar intrusion as you pumped your hands in and out of you. Your slow but methodic movements brought you a great sense of pleasure as you spread your arousal across your fingers, stimulating your hot sex.  

Jonathan let out a slow hum as he watched your chest rise and fall, succumbing to his basic urges as he mindlessly rubbed his hand over his cock. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of taking it out; let alone masturbate in-front of you. No, that would come much later. 

“Take your fingers deeper,” he instructed, subtly biting the inside of his lip. “I know it worries you. Too often we fear the unknown, but if you want to feel better, you’ll do it for me.” 

You did, burying your fingers into yourself to the point that your first phalanges disappeared within you as you motioned your fingers in a controlled movement. Finding yourself growing a quiet confidence from Crane’s amused smirk, you began to fasten your pace, pistoning your fingers like a machine. 

The wet sounds of your sex filled the room, the shine of your fingers undeniable as you spread yourself apart, baring your pussy just for him. This is what he wanted. 

This was what you wanted. 

Right? 

Right. 

“Very good,” the man crooned. “It feels good, doesn’t it? If this was all it took for you to be obedient, I suppose I would’ve introduced masturbation to our sessions a while ago.”   

The differences were stark; all your spite from the beginning of the session had dissipated, and you were like putty in his hands. He’d integrated your mind like a parasite, a snake, and had carried out his word – he was making you better. 

“Y-Yeah..” you whispered, mind blank as you found it difficult to keep your legs up. Crane was stimulating himself through his trousers, small breaths from his chest ragged as he spoke. 

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Is my voice turning you on? Would you like me to bring you to release?” 

You nodded, an uncharacteristic squeal escaping your lips as you brushed past your clit. Jonathan sighed again, his lips pursed as he fought the urge to do it all for you, just for a feel of your wetness and tight walls. Alas, unlike other men, he knew how to exercise control. 

“Taste yourself.” he commanded without an ounce of hesitation. You winced, hands trembling as you removed them from inside of you and bringing them to your lips. Cautiously, you took a small lick of your juice, squeezing your eyes shut as you tasted yourself on your tongue. You’d never done that before. 

“Now touch yourself again, only faster. Keep your legs up, I want to see you. All of you. In this room, in this moment, you belong to me.” 

You wanted him to fucking consume you. Frantically, you switched between stimulating all of your zones, from your lips to your clit, a pornographic squelching sound coming from your nether regions. Crane bit down on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flared as he palmed his cock, feeling spurts of pre-cum coat his pelvis. 

He let out a restraint grunt, and for some reason it made your loins tingle, sending a pulsing heat to your core. Given the way your head spun, and your vision became jagged, you could tell that you were close, which Crane took great joy in. 

“Perfect…” he hummed. “Look at me when you cum. Can you feel yourself lose control? This is what you needed, wasn’t it, you silly whore? Give yourself to me. All of it…” 

Had you been in a clear state of mind, you would’ve taken that as a threat, but in your bout of ecstasy it was hard to not be intoxicated by the idea. His voice was so soothing, so controlled and yet menacing that you felt like you’d sold your soul to the devil himself. Perhaps in a way, you had. 

Your legs were overcome by the force of your orgasm, quivering as you found it difficult to stay still. Squeezing your legs shut, you came around your fingers with a cry, your fluids spurting around your fingers and trickling onto your thigh and seeping down your legs.  

It felt impossible to come down from your own palpitations, and Crane’s stare was far from useful in relieving your anxieties. The man had barely moved, but he looked somewhat flummoxed, his hair slightly curly and tousled from sweat, whilst his pink lips looked raw, as if he’d been gnawing on them. 

Had he cum? Had he enjoyed this at all? Oh God, you were wondering if your therapist had cum from your private masturbation. 

The reality of what you’d done was coming back to you now, and you truly didn’t know what to think. You wanted to stay; to be petted and showered with praise for your show, and yet run and hide completely. You’d only known him for two months. 

And. He. Was. Your. Therapist.  

And so, you found yourself glancing back up at the time again.  

“That was…quite something,” Crane said slowly, clearing his throat as he nonchalantly polished off his glasses before putting them on. “I assume you’re feeling better now. I think I’d like to integrate this into our future sessions, starting with next week,” 

There was his usual detached tone. You thought orgasms brought mental clarity, but Jonathan was an enigma. 

“- It might be useful for you to wear a skirt, something accessible...I happen to like the colour you’ve got on now.” 

[crescenthistory]

silly little prompt list

send me a letter, number and character(s), as well as any additional details you'd like<3 mwah

for more prompts, go to the "writing prompts" tag on my blog

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆

nb! prompts in italics have already been chosen and written. you can request it again in another context, but be aware that i’m less likely to use it

a. sassy:

"how great that we have you to fix the world"

"thrilled to be blessed by your presence"

"i'll hear you out when you actually have something to say"

"well done, i would never have thought of that"

"how delightful"

"aren't you just a sweetheart"

"i'm sure you're not the only one"

"i'm sure you are the only one"

"how thoughtful of you"

"who would have thought"

"and?"

"in other news, the sky is blue"

"please do us all the favour of shutting up"

"i'd like nothing more"

"you forgot that i just don't care"

b. fluffy:

"i require at least a thousand kisses to make up for it"

"how are you so soft?"

"you occupy my every thought"

"kiss me again"

"you think (x) would kill us if we just eloped?"

"are you falling asleep on me?" "..." "alright then"

"may i have this dance?"

"it will always be you"

"i didn't know it was possible for you to be more beautiful"

"you changed my life"

"come back to bed"

"nothing matters but you"

"when did you realise you love me/her/him?"

"i can't imagine loving you more"

"how are you so cute right now?"

c. hurt/comfort:

"i want nothing more than to kiss away all your pain"

"maybe this will make it okay"

"who made you think all of this?"

"i didn't know it could hurt this much to be in love"

"there will not be a day where i am not there for you"

"i don't know, it just happened"

"they never left your side"

"you would have thought they were the injured one, the way they were acting"

"it pains me to see you like this"

"i'll get you out of there"

"you're okay, you're okay"

"i can't believe i did this"

"hold on, this might sting"

"i don't think i can take it, not this"

"i'm sorry, i know, i'm sorry"

d. angsty:

"how did you expect me to take it?"

"i just can't trust you anymore"

"well, i am terribly sorry for inconveniencing you"

"did you expect me to be more digestible?"

"but do you love me?"

"how could you expect me not to be angry with you after this"

"don't you have someone to take care of right now?"

"where is she?"

"it hurts like hell because you are everything to me"

"what a shame, they were so beautiful together"

"i never expected you to lie to me"

"what was i supposed to do?"

"i never hated you!"

"oh, stop with the tears"

"i can't do this anymore"

e. steamy:

"loosen up a little"

"let me distract you"

"turn around"

"kiss me, coward"

"tell me to stop"

"shut up"

"make me"

"it's more than want"

"use your words, sweetheart"

"i don't like to share"

"i want to see you"

"let's make this quick"

"is this okay?"

"tell me i'm yours"

"this is wrong"

f. ambiguous:

"well, fuck, i wasn't expecting my morning to go like this"

"you look like you want to read my mind"

"are we friends?"

"you woke me up for this?"

"tonight we're drinking straight from the bottle"

"pity"

"i cannot stand you two anymore"

"get over yourselves"

"do you realise you slam every door you close?"

"why would you do that?"

"can we please talk about this?"

"i'll ruin you"

"i'm so glad i was wrong about you"

"fine, keep acting like you hate me"

"i'm not drunk enough for this"

bonus: tropes (pair with a dialogue)

there's only one bed

bandmates

meet the family

near death experience

mutual pining believed to be unrequited

fake dating

temporary truce

accidental confession

secret relationship

firsts

soulmate au

arranged marriage

enemies/rivalry to lovers

trapped

sunshine x grump

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Warmly greet!🫰 I just came across your blog today and I'm already in love with it!🖤🖤🖤 Could I leave a request here where Puppeteer, Jason, Candy Pop and LJ have a S/O who has insecurities about not being good enough for them? Because, come on...they're supernatural, not quite human, and their S/O is a regular, weak human, at least from the S/O's point of view...

Oooh thank you, friend! Also, i never get to write for Candypop or LJ so i am excited to do it!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Puppeteer

He will just kind of stare at you when you tell him those feelings

Like??? Are you kidding???

He is so obsessively in love with you that the thought of you feeling like you aren't enough for him is wild to him

Instantly he will assure you that you are more than he could ever dream of, and how much he loves you

He doesnt love you for supernatural abilities or powers, he loves you for you

Again, the thought of you not being enough for him doesn't even really comprehend in his mind

it's so insane to him that you, his most favorite person in the world who he couldn't live without, thinks that they aren't enough for him

If anything, he isn't enough for you, in his opinon

you are a literal deity walking on earth, and he is lucky enough to even witness your beauty and you think you arent enough???

Yeah, those thoughts are snuffed out rather quickly by him

He will spend the entire day going over every little thing he adores about you if he has to

Jason The Toymaker

He is just kind of confused when you express your feelings to him

"Now, what's this all about?" he asks with a pitiful look towards you

He honestly thinks that it's kind of weird that those feelings are even something humans are capable of feeling

What does he care that you don't have any weird abilities?

"Even when you are old and grey I will still love you. I will love you when you are in pain, and I will love you when you are happy. You being human makes no difference to me, because I love you. Even when you breathe your last breath, your soul will live on with me in the form of my favorite doll I will keep on a special shelf, pristine and upkept"

He's kind of a helpless romantic lol

Bro gave you a whole essay

anyways, he literally could not care less if you are magical or not, he's just thinks you're neat <33

CandyPop

He kind of thinks its funny that you think that

He will snort and look at you like you're joking "why??"

"You shouldn't feel that way. It's pointless to. Because you and I both know that no matter what, I still love you. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't like you at least a little bit"

He will joke around with you and make you try to feel good about being human

You are allowed to go pretty much wherever you please without being called a demon, he can't

Your squishy flesh human body is quite sustainable on its own, being able to morph and adapt to extreme situations, which he thinks is neat

And his personal favorite about humans, specifically you, you have such a wide array of expressing yourself! You have emotions, art, studies, etc

He loves you being human and you not liking being human is strange to him

Laughing Jack

He understands the insecurity

He can't say he's ever felt it, because he gives literally no fucks, but he understands

He will do whatever you want him to do about it, really

Lord knows he doesn't know what to do

If you wanna rant, he'll listen

If you wanna just be doted on, that's what he'll do

Whatever makes you feel better

Honestly, he does find it a little peculiar that you don't like being human

Like, if he could be 5'10", wear whatever he wants, do whatever he wants, go whatever he wants, etc, he'd be soooo happy

His 7'6" ass could never

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments. 

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give. 

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter. 

It’s true then. “He’s gone.” 

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug. 

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?” 

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.” 

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught. 

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?” 

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.” 

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?” 

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy. 

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?” 

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.” 

“He’ll get there.” 

You puff air out from between your teeth. 

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets. 

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could. 

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean? 

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?” 

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.” 

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility. 

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe. 

For now; you let it go. You let him go. 

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?” 

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.” 

“We should help them.” 

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise. 

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot. 

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort. 

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine. 

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?” 

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.” 

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating. 

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely. 

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.” 

He immediately tenses up. “What job?” 

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone. 

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?” 

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes. 

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys. 

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.” 

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?” 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“Not for a fucking second.” 

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else. 

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.” 

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame. 

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.  

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow. 

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.” 

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter. 

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.” 

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.” 

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already. 

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes. 

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere. 

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up. 

“Why not?” 

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up. 

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.” 

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut? 

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.” 

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.” 

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks. 

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.  

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.” 

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family. 

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?” 

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.” 

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that. 

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand. 

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?” 

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that. 

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.” 

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity. 

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.” 

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”  

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.” 

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.” 

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance. 

“All set for the hike, Captain?” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them. 

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?” 

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.” 

Somewhere new. 

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.” 

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started. 

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided. 

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself. 

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed. 

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential. 

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over. 

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you. 

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.” 

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For a proper goodbye.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.” 

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.” 

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet. 

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it. 

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him. 

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance. 

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Maybe one day, that will even be enough. 

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”  

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace. 

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you. 

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago. 

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead. 

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind. 

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present. 

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead. 

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that. 

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?” 

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?” 

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?” 

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you. 

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet. 

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…” 

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory? 

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it. 

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.” 

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

[harryscherrypie]

Tinder men can't do it like you do.

summary - Your friends' constant nagging gets to you, and you and Harry cross the friends and lovers line when you drunkenly confess your thoughts to him. This leads to the loss of your virginity.

wordcount - 5,5k

warnings - full-on smut, alcohol (no smut under the influence) nothing else

a/n - it is heree. THANK YOU for 1000 followers, thank you for supporting me on my journey here, it means the world to me. This is my thank you to you.

Like and reblog please, it helps the blog :)

----

You never understood the pressure everyone was under when it came to losing your virginity. Ever since you were a teenager the people you were surrounded with put more worth on the thing than you thought it had.

Fast forward to your 20s, you became too busy with college and didn’t have time to think about relationships, or losing your virginity for that matter. Only when you settled into your life after college, you started to think you were maybe a bit too late.

You would listen to your friends talk about their sex lives with their partners while you quietly sat there and listened awkwardly. You never even had a proper boyfriend. Sure, there was Dean back in high school when you were 16, but that only lasted for 2 months before he dumped you for a more popular girl. You weren’t hurt or anything, you focused on your studies and didn’t mind being single.

But when you tell someone, at 24, that you’ve never had a proper boyfriend and never even properly kissed, it got you a few pitiful glances and sad smiles.

You’ve had enough of it if you were being honest with yourself. You just wanted to get it over with, and you did an unimaginable thing, something, you never thought about before. You downloaded Tinder.

You matched with about 20 men, each more sleazy than the one before him. After 2 months of trying a man who was at least a tiny bit respectful and not some weirdo, you gave up on this option.

When you complained to your friends, they all gave you the same answer.

“Just ask Harry,”

You always scowled at this reaction. Of course, they would say that. They were absolutely in love with Harry, and who could blame them, you were too after all.

You didn’t like hearing it, mainly because you fantasized about it quite a lot when you were alone. You couldn’t help it, you were quite smitten. You always thought about what it would be like to lose your virginity to Harry. Would he be gentle? Would he try to make you laugh? You often tortured yourself with these pictures, only to get your heart cracked when you realized it would never happen.

The rain pattered on your umbrella as you rushed through the street, trying to get to the club. Harry was finally back in London, and the two of you decided to get together for some drinks. You shook the umbrella a bit when you got under the patio of the club and showed the bouncer your id.

You walked in, looking around, searching for the booth Harry reserved. You were incredibly nervous, your stomach churning a bit. It was only you and Harry tonight, as he said he wanted to catch up with just you alone.

You looked around for a few moments before you spotted a mop of curly hair in the crowd, coming closer to you.

He looked amazing. His hair was a bit longer than the last time you saw him, making the curls more defined. He was wearing a pair of high-waisted trousers with a barely buttoned shirt.

“There you are,” he shouted over the music and pulled you into him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burrowing his face into your shoulder, staying like this for a while.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your ear, making sure you heard him. His hot breath on your ear made you shiver and goosebumps erupted all over your skin.

“I missed you too, let’s go sit down,” You pulled back and shouted at him. He nodded, signaling he heard you over the loud music and pulled you toward the booth he reserved for the two of you. You sat down on the cushioned sofa and Harry nearly jumped on top of you, immediately grabbing and trapping you in a tight hug.

“It was a terror without you,” he sighed dramatically and you giggled at his antics.

“For me too, I couldn’t properly sleep or eat or function without you,” you cried jokingly, making Harry chuckle.

“Let’s get drunk now, we’ll talk then,” Harry jumped up.

“So you just wanted to get drunk with me, and not ask me how I’ve been,” you glared at him.

“I like talking better when we are drunk, you are more fun that way,” he winked and pulled you from the couch towards the bar.

The whole world was spinning. You were sprawled out on the sofa with a fruity drink in your hand, trying to slow the room down.

“I don’t think I can do more, I’ll probably pass out if I do,” you complained loudly and Harry giggled. He had a better alcohol tolerance than you ever had.

“I can still do some more, give me the drink,” Harry reached over and took your drink from your hand. The limb fell to the velvet material of the couch and you stroked your fingers up and down the fabric.

“I haven’t gotten drunk in so long, I didn’t want to drink much during the tour,” Harry spoke up and you turned your head towards him.

“Me neither, it’s no fun being drunk when it’s not with you,” you closed your eyes in bliss after the room finally stopped spinning.

“Oh yeah, that’s why we are here, let’s catch up,” Harry laid down on the same couch as you, making your heads bump together.

“Any luck with the Tinder thing you told me about?” He asked and you vigorously shook your head.

“No, all of them were dicks, plus my friends were being stupid and I never really went through with it,” You confessed, playing with your fingers above your face.

“What did they tell you again?” He sighed disapprovingly. You knew how he felt about your friends. Most of them weren’t very supportive of anything you did in your life if it was even slightly different than what they would’ve done.

You were quiet for a while, wondering if you should tell him what they kept telling you in the past few months.

“They told me I should go to you,” you mumbled quietly, feeling your whole face heat up.

“What do you mean,” he mumbled.

“They told me I should ask you to take my virginity because I quote ‘you are hot’,” you dumped all of the information on him, slightly regretting it the moment it left your mouth.

Harry stayed quiet for a while, only letting out quiet puffs of breath. You went to sit up and look at him when he spoke up.

“Would you want to?” he asked quietly.

‘What?’ your eyes bulged and you sat up as quickly as you could without getting sick.

You looked at Harry, immediately noticing the bright blush coating his cheeks.

‘Was he serious?’

You stared at each other for a few long moments before Harry sat up as well and asked once again.

“Would you want to?”

This time, his words weren’t as slurred as they were before, indicating that this exchange sobered him up as much as it did you.

“I-I, what?” you stuttered, still not understanding what he wanted to hear from you.

“It’s just a question, you don’t have to answer, but just to let you know, if you would like to, I wouldn’t mind, not at all actually, but again only if you wanted to, I mean…” Harry stuttered and blushed even harder than before.

‘What the fuck was happening,’

You sat up straight and continued to stare at him, heart beating at a rapid pace. This can’t be happening. Did you drink something you weren’t supposed to? What the fuck.

“(y/n), look, I’m sorry I know it was a stupid thing to say, let’s just forget about it him?” He nervously asked.

“This isn’t really happening is it?” you spoke up quietly. Harry looked at you confused and scooched closer to you. He put an arm around you and pulled you closer to him.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” he pleaded.

“I’m fucking shocked, that’s what’s happening,” you laughed and dragged your hand lightly over your face, careful not to mess up your makeup.

“Whenever I heard that I should come to you, I always had to keep telling myself that I really shouldn’t, because you would never do that for me, and now, you suddenly say this,” you confessed.

You looked over to Harry, carefully studying his expression. He calmly looks over at you and asks again.

“Would you want to?”

You looked him in the eye and nodded your head.

“Yeah, I would,” he took your hand in his and rubbed a few soft circles into your wrist.

“Tomorrow?” He asked making you almost choke on your saliva.

“What?”

“Like, would you want to do it tomorrow?” He asked again.

You were pretty sure you were going to pass out.

“Sure,” you choked out, the spinning from before suddenly returning.

You sat side by side for a while, the silence eating both of you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, we can forget about this and never talk about this ever again, I promise it won’t be awkward,” Harry spoke out again.

“No, I want this, I’m just kind of in shock that it’s happening, and I’m slightly nervous” you laughed nervously.

“You don’t have to be, It’s just me,” Harry smiled and squeezed your hand gently.

“Let’s get you home and we’ll text in the morning to see if you are still sure about this,” Harry stood up and pulled you up with him, already ordering an uber to take the two of you home.

You woke up hungover the next morning. Wrapped up in your sheets, you squirmed as the sun coming through the windows burned your eyes. Sighing and annoyed, you roughly turned around, back facing the window as you shut your eyes until you saw galaxies.

The phone on your nightstand vibrated, making you curse whoever was texting you at this hour of the day. You groaned, roughly grabbing the phone and yanking the charger out of it.

Harry <3:

Hey, love, good morning :), are we still on today? Wanted to check in, in case you decided against it (that would be totally fine btw). So yeah, text me when you wake up.

You screwed your eyes shut. You’ve almost forgotten the conversation you had at the club yesterday. You thought about it for a bit. While he seemed very enthusiastic the night before, you weren’t sure he would be up to it when he woke up. Seemed you were wrong.

Me:

Hey, H, just woke up, if you are 100% sure, then we are still on. But can we meet at yours? My place is a mess. And when?

You sent the chaotic message, rubbing your eyes roughly.

The three dots appeared for a little while, indicating that he was typing his message.

Harry <3:

Of course, how about you come in the evening, we can have some light dinner and watch a movie so we won’t be as stressed, hm?

God, he was the sweetest, always thinking 3 steps ahead.

Me:

Okay, yeah, that sounds nice. I’ll be around 6 xx

With that, you threw your phone against the mattress, groaning. You shouldn’t have drunk so much.

You were so immersed in the movie you totally forgot why you came over to Harry’s in the first place. You lay in front of him, pushed up against his chest.

Harry was running his hands up and down your side through the whole movie, not making you think about what he was doing.

The less intense part of the movie started when you felt Harry softly pepper kisses around your neck. You shuddered from the feeling, grabbing Harry’s hand on your hip tightly.

“You okay?” He huskily whispered into your ear and you nodded quickly.

“I want to get you a little bit more relaxed, this is supposed to feel nice, not nerve-wracking or as something you need to be scared of,” Harry explained and continued to kiss down your neck. You nodded once more and melted into the nice feeling of Harry’s lips on your skin.

He continued to pepper little kisses around the sensitive skin of your neck, easing you into the feeling more and more.

“We should go to the bedroom, it’s going to be a bit better than on the couch,” Harry interrupted his kisses. You nodded absentmindedly and raised your weight off of him to let him stand up. As he straightened his back he groaned a little bit, making you giggle.

“Don’t laugh at me, ‘m almost 30,” he pouted and quickly slipped his hands under your body, raising you into the air and moving in the direction of the bedroom.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and hooked your chin on his shoulder, listening to his calm breathing. You were calm, not nervous like you thought you would be, but everything was simple with him.

He opened the door to his bedroom with his free fingers and walked in, shutting the door behind him with his bum. He walked forward until his knees hit the bed and slowly laid you down on his bed. You stared at each other for a few moments before you burst out laughing. You giggled together for some time before you calmed down.

“See? Not so bad, not serious as well,” Harry pointed out and you grinned widely. He gently brushed his fingertips down your cheek.

“Y’ so pretty, never tell you as much as I should,” he whispered.

“Stop,” you looked away, insides turning into one mush.

“’S true though,” he whined jokingly and kissed your cheek lightly.

“Can we continue now?” You asked shyly.

“Eager now, are we?” He teased and wiggled his eyebrows.

You slapped his shoulder lightly and rolled your eyes.

“Don’t get cocky now, or I’ll get up and leave,” you threatened jokingly.

“Sorry, sorry, did not mean to do that, forgive me?” He asked, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

“Just because it’s you, I guess we can do that,” you smiled and looked up at him and into his eyes.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered and you nodded, without even having to think about it.

He moved closer. You could feel his breath on your lips and he stopped moving for a few moments, just to give you time to back off, if you needed it. But you knew, you were ready and wanted to do this. With him.

When your lips pressed together, it was like a breath of fresh air filling your lungs. You moved your lips together slowly, the intimacy of the moment making your head spin. Subconsciously, you opened your mouth just a tiny bit, which gave Harry the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You whined into his mouth, enjoying the almost new feeling.

You separated after a few minutes, both of you needing air.

“You doing okay?” Harry asked as he watched your dazed expression.

“Yeah, it’s just, nice,” you mumbled and turned your head away from him, still feeling shy.

“Don’t turn away from me, how am I supposed to kiss you hmm?” He teased. You rolled your eyes at his cliche words.

You turned to look at him with a smirk.

“Where did you get that from huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me or I’ll cancel my offer,” He warned.

“Sure, and miss the chance to get your dick wet? I don’t think so,” You pointed out.

“How dare you? Paint me out as some sort of a man whore, I am truly wounded,” He gasped and clutched his chest, faking hurt.

“Instead of complaining, you should kiss me,” you giggled at him.

“Yeah, what a great suggestion,” he murmured before he connected your lips in a sweet kiss. This kiss stayed sweet and didn’t turn into a heated make-out session like the last one.

“Can we go further now?” you murmured against his lips.

He nodded wordlessly and raised his weight off of you.

“Let’s take your clothes off hmm? I think that is a good start,” he smiled.

“Sit up for me,” he ordered gently and you complied, quickly sitting up.

You raised your arms and he swiftly took off your shirt, leaving you in a cute lacy bra you picked out specifically that morning.

“God, you look so beautiful,” Harry groaned at the sight of you and didn’t waste any time pushing you back and latching his mouth on your newly exposed skin. He sucked a hickey above the top of your bra while his fingers explored the rest of your naked torso, from the bottom of your bra over your stomach, and up to the waistline of your sweatpants.

He pulled off with a wet pop sounding through the bedroom as he eyed the angry red patch appearing on your skin.

“So pretty,” he whispered. He kissed around your skin for a few more moments, enjoying the little whines that he pulled from you. His fingers crept up from the front to your back, toying with the clasp of your bra. He tugged on it for a bit before the clasp had come off. He pulled the bra straps off your shoulders and tossed it somewhere in the room.

The temperature in the room made goosebumps erupt all over your skin and you wrapped your arms around yourself, in order to hide from the cold, but also Harry’s stare.

“Don’t hide from me, I want to see you,” He kissed the skin above your breasts as if to coax you to remove your hands. You took a deep breath and slowly let go of your flesh, exposing yourself to him. You lay under him, bare and vulnerable, waiting for him to do something.

“So, so, beautiful, baby,” he praised as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly, while he rolled the other one between his finger. Overwhelmed with the new feeling, you threw your head back against the soft sheets below you, moaning softly and gripping the fabric underneath your body, as you arched your back, pushing your skin even closer to his mouth.

“So good, H,” you mumbled and brought your hand up to tangle in his curls, tugging at the roots when his teeth grazed your nipple in a particular way.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured against your skin before he peppered soft kisses anywhere he could reach.

His hand started to explore.

Down.

Down.

Caressing your skin with feather-light touches until he got to the upper part of your thigh, gently kneading your skin, making you shiver with anticipation and jittery with nerves.

“Gonna have to prepare you for me, love, so I won’t hurt you,” he explained, gently kissing your cheek. You nodded, even though your racing mind barely understood his words.

He moved away from the skin of your chest, admiring the red patches he left on your skin with a grin playing on his lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug,” you laughed breathlessly.

“Have to take my time to admire,” he joked and moved up your body so you were face to face again. You decided you could stay like this forever, with his weight laid on top of your body, feeling his warmth. He didn’t waste any time and pressed his lips to yours once again, the kiss feeling more urgent than before.

He did this while the hand on your thigh continued to caress the soft skin. As your lips continued to kiss, his hand slipped into your underwear, immediately sliding his fingers through your slit.

“God, so wet for me already,” he groaned against your lips, breaking your kiss for a little while.

He gathered your wetness, moving it up to your clit, starting to draw small circles with the tip of his finger around the nub.

You shuddered out a shaky breath, your head falling against Harry’s shoulder closest to your head.

“H,” you whimpered, your hands shooting up, wrapping around his torso and gripping the material of his shirt tightly.

“M’ here lovie, hold on to me,” he whispered to you, kissing your temple, the only part of your face which was not completely burrowed in his neck due to the pleasure you found yourself in.

You let out a quiet moan as he dipped the tip of his middle finger in you.

“Tell me if it becomes too much, I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I trust you, Harry,” you murmured, looking into his eyes intently.

He kissed your lips quickly, and sweetly, nodding his head.

With one hand, he spread your legs as much as he could, whispering that he needed as much space as he could have.

Kissing your lips one more time, he moved down your body, placing kisses here and there. Hooking his fingers in your underwear, he gently tugged them down.

“Hips up, please,” he kissed your thigh as he ordered.

You raised your hips up and felt the soft fabric slide down your legs, leaving you completely bare in front of him. Your first instinct was to close your legs, but Harry was quicker and grabbed you by your knees before they could touch.

“Nu-uh, darling, legs opened for me,” he nipped the soft skin of your thigh in a warning.

You went to say something in response, but your breath got caught in your throat when Harry put his mouth on you. Licking into you, he made you see stars just with his tongue. You’ve never felt this kind of pleasure, never before have you thought that someone other than you could bring you so much pleasure.

“Taste so good baby,” he groaned against you.

You mewled out his name, bucking your hips into his face, trying to get even closer. Harry pined your hips down to the bed with his hand, making you whine in disappointment.

“Hold still for me, and let me do my job,” he murmured against you, making a bolt of pleasure run up your spine.

Blinded by pleasure, your hands sneaked into Harry’s curls, tugging him closer to you.

You fought the invisible force that tried to close your eyes, you looked at Harry, and the sight alone made you almost come right there and then.

With his eyes shut tightly, Harry ate you out vigorously, hips softly bucking against the soft of the mattress, trying to relieve the hardness in his sweatpants.

A knot formed in your stomach the more Harry licked into you, making you chase your quickly approaching orgasm by squeezing your thighs around his head, afraid he was going to move away. You thought you would last a little bit longer, but as soon as he moved his mouth to wrap around your clit, you were gone. As he first suckled on your clit, an orgasm came rippling through you, spasms making you twitch.

“Oh God, oh God,” you panted as you cradled your fingers through Harry’s hair. He laid his head against your thigh catching his breath as well.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly.

“Yeah, just… wow,” you laughed.

“Good?” Harry asked teasingly as he raised himself from his position and lay beside you.

“Yeah, good,” you grinned up at him.

“Let’s do a pause for water yeah? Need to keep you hydrated,” he kissed your forehead and stretched to get a water bottle from his nightstand.

He let you drink from it, fussing over you so you wouldn’t accidentally choke on the water.

When you were done drinking, Harry took a few small gulps, before he tossed it to the carpeted floor.

He turned back to you.

You opened your arms smiling. Harry didn’t waste any time and cuddled you.

“Do you want to continue? Or are we done?” He asked kindly, kissing your jawline.

“I want to continue, I’m just a little… scared,” you admitted. He shook his head.

“No need to be, I’m here, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, kissing him passionately.

Harry shifted to rest his weight on top of you, grabbing you by the waist.

Sneaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails against the skin of his chest, making him whimper under his breath.

“Want me to get that off?” He asked breathlessly, making you nod eagerly.

He raised to his knees, quickly ridding himself of the shirt before he dropped back on top of you, making you jump on the mattress a little bit.

“I should make you come again, with just my fingers hm? Would you like that?” He mused as he traced your collarbone with his pointer finger, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. You shook your head, desperately straining your neck to get a chance to connect your lips to his once again.

“No? What would you like if not my fingers?” Harry teased, looking all innocent.

You desperately whined, clumsily grinding against his clothed groin.

“Words, love,” he grinned evilly, making you whine once more.

“I want you inside me, I want your cock,” you choked out, making him chuckle.

“Alright, love, let me get my clothes off, I’m done teasing,” he smiled, lightly kissing your forehead, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Harry stood up. He undid the knot on his sweatpants and let them pool around his ankles, standing in front of you only in his underwear.

He slid the fabric down his legs quickly, finally letting you see him naked.

Your jaw dropped slightly in surprise and astonishment, letting out a quiet breath. You felt arousal pool in your stomach, feeling a twisting motion inside you.

“You okay?” He smirked, clearly knowing what he was doing to you. You found it in you to nod slightly, eyes never leaving Harry’s figure.

He reached over to the nightstand, fishing around for a while before he pulled out a foiled packet. He moved back onto the bed, sitting on his knees as he opened the condom package carefully.

As he went to put the condom on, you reached out in a moment of bravery.

“Can I try?” You asked, eyes wide, making Harry groan quietly. He only nodded, carefully passing you the condom.

“God,” he choked out as you slowly pumped him in your hand.

You raised to your knees, mimicking Harry’s position. You grabbed the condom properly before you started to carefully roll it down his length.

“That’s good baby, that’s so good,” he whispered, panting, once the condom was on. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in, closer to his body.

He grabbed all over your body, every curve, anywhere he could reach. After a few moments, he gently laid you down, staying on top of you, with his weight resting solely on his arms. Oh god, what you wanted for those arms to do to you.

Harry placed his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“Alright yeah?” He confirmed once more. You nodded breathlessly.

“This might hurt you for a little while, tell me if you want to stop, I don’t want to hurt you, love, wouldn’t forgive myself,” he whispered, tenderly thumbing at the skin of your waist.

You wrapped all of your limbs around him, arms around his torso, and your legs around his hips, your heels digging into his back.

You took a few deep breaths, softly nodding at him to go on.

He ran his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness as lubrication. He pumped his cock a few times, ragged breaths escaping his pretty lips before he pushed his tip inside you.

He continued to push himself inside of you inch by inch, kissing your lips, trying to distract you from the pain you were feeling.

“Doing so good for me, so proud of you,” he whispered and kissed away the stray tears that escaped your eyes.

“It hurts,” you mumbled as you shifted to open your legs a bit more.

You whimpered in pain, as he settled against you, placing your forehead against yours.

He continued to fill you up, pushing himself into you more and more.

Once completely inside you, he strangled out a soft moan, brushing his lips against the delicate skin of your neck. You scratched down his back as you continued to adjust to his size, making him groan in pleasure.

“You feel so good,” he murmured.

You were in heaven. With Harry buried inside of you, feeling him everywhere, you never truly understood just how touch-starved you were until now. You never wanted this to end, wanting to stay here forever. Wrapped in his fancy sheets with no clothes, feeling him all around, your senses filled with him.

“H, move, please,” you pleaded as you bucked your hips against his, trying to get him to move. He nodded mindlessly, clearly drunk on the pleasure you were providing.

Lazily, he rocked his hips into you, testing the waters.

You let out a gasp of his name, as you dug your fingers into the skin of his back.

“Fuck, feeling better than I had ever imagined,” he grunted into your skin, his hips thrusting against you more roughly.

His hand glided down your body, teasing touches only adding to your pleasure. A jolt of electricity ran through you as he touched your clit, rubbing soft circles into it.

You threw your head back, cursing under your breath.

“Good, yeah?” Harry asked breathlessly, the rhythm of his hips stuttering slightly.

“Mhm,” you nodded, eyes closed in bliss.

Drunk on the pleasure, you captured Harry’s lips in a rough kiss, breathing heavily against him.

“Feel so good, H, you make me feel so good,” you sighed dazed.

Harry’s rhythm quickened. His thrusts got rougher, your moans syncing with the rhythm of his hips as he stroked and brushed the spongy wall of your g-spot.

Your walls fluttered against his cock in response, as you cried out into the stillness of his bedroom.

With his hips snapping against yours roughly, the only thing you could do was hold onto him, and take all of the pleasure he was giving you. His thrusts were more precise and more confident, his hips drawing out every single stroke, only prolonging your pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come quicker than I would like to if you keep squeezing me like that,” he moaned into your neck.

His whimpers made your stomach clench. Something about having a man whine out of pleasure because of you made you slightly dizzy.

“H,” you called out. “M’close,” you slurred, lightheaded from the pressure of your impending orgasm.

Harry’s fingers on your clit faltered before he nodded and rubbed you a little bit faster, wanting to get you to your orgasm quickly, because he wasn’t sure he could last any longer.

Everything went white.

You were almost certain you died for a while as your orgasm raged through you. You heard Harry come a few seconds after you did, slumping against you, whispering soft praises into your ears.

You closed your eyes for what felt like a few seconds before you felt the mattress dip beside you. This made you open your eyes, meeting Harry’s slightly concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” he questioned while opening up a new pack of wet wipes.

You only nodded, not trusting your voice just yet.

“My sweet girl, you did so good,” he cooed as he kissed your forehead. You shivered, suddenly aware of the cold air in the room.

“Let me quickly wipe you down, and we can get under the covers,” he asked and you nodded absent-mindedly, opening your legs to let him slip in between.

You hissed as the cold of the wipe made contact with your skin, jerking away from his hand.

“Sorry, sorry, almost done, just a little bit, we can rest for a while after that,” Harry reassured.

He quickly threw away the wet wipe and rushed to his bed, to you. He bundled you up in a soft blanket before he laid down, taking you into his arms. Gently kissing your forehead, he placed your head against his shoulder.

“Did I do good?” you asked meekly, eyes swimming with sleep.

“Of course, my best girl,” he smiled.

“You did well too, I really enjoyed it, it was everything I ever thought it would be,” you beamed, cuddling closer to him.

“Me too,” he sighed.

“You said that it felt better than you had imagined, did you mean it?”

“Every word, we can talk later but now, close your eyes for a few minutes, we have all the time in the world after you wake up, I’ll be here,” he smoothed his hand down your hair.

“You have a point,” you agreed, yawning, as you fell into a well-deserved slumber.

----

My first proper smut is here, it is a bit wobbly and weird in my opinion, but I hope you still like it. Feedback is very appreciated.

Take care <3

[prentissluvr]

i dont have all of my sam thots and dean thoughts just yet but I had to send in this bc I completely forgot about meg! sam

and its a damn shame that we didn't see more of that bc it solidified my stance on being a sam girlie

we got at least 3 episodes of demon dean (i have not seen him yet i've only heard about it) but we got like less than half an hour with meg! sam and honestly we deserved more with him

meg! sam made me feel lots of things LOLL

(i wanted to be jo SO BAD in that episode LMAO)

now i need your thots on him please :p

KJDFSJL NO BECAUSE... NOOO I CANT thinking about the amount of meg!sam edits i've seen in the past few days. thinking about the one saved in my camera roll. thinking about throwing up pissing my pants projectile vomiting and passing the fuck out. i reiterate tho, i'm normal!! i'm so so so normal and i don't feel things about it!!!!!!!

i'm honestly still like borderline unsure about how nsfw i want to get on this blog, but uhhh i'm just gonna start typing and see where my dirty fucking mind takes me!

cw : highly suggestive!! no smut, but still absolutely no minors!! MDNI!! contains condescending/mean/possessed sam, but also sweet sam too <33. use of gendered terms, but it is gender inclusive to fem, masc, and gn as much as i could make it! horrible writing it's genuinely just me going feral :))

sooo basically for me the worst (best) part of meg!sam was his voice! it's so bad (never have i ever heard anything hotter in my life). IDK I DONT EVEN THINK I CAN FORM A COHERENT THOUGHT OVER THIS NOT GONNA LIE. uhm uhhh ummmm uhhhh uhmmmm.

so basically so basically, essentially, wwowowowowowowowifjhshf alright lets focus on one thing at a time.

we'll start with that goddamn voice of his. the way it goes from teasing, condescending to deeper, more gravelly and matter-of-fact and then back to condescending LIKE WHOO IM GONNA NEED TO TAKE A LAP. idk just thinking about his large hand on the back of your head, maybe tangled in your hair if the way you wear it allows for that, and his veiny forearm visible through your peripheral vision as he says "open up.. that's a girl" like he did to jo😭😭😭 (or he's says "thaaat's it" to keep things gender neutral, dragging out the "that's" for an extra second, that extra gravel in his condescending tone).

and while this is in possessed!sam context, he'd definitely say things like that normally, i do personally envision him to be less condescending and more sincere. either way, hot as fuck if you ask me. also this isn't meg!sam, but in season seven he says "good girl" and i do listen to that clip several times a day, i am so serious when i say that and i have no shame about it!! i have daddy issues so i do not care!!! so yeah he also says good girl/boy/whatever variation you enjoy best <3 uhmmm yeah but the main point is his hot as fuck voice, right next to your ear with his breath tickling you sensitive skin. especially with that whisper. oh god the whisper😭 and along with "that's a girl," there's atta girl and he'd use that one too so i'll go die in a hole :))) but yeah he genuinely thinks you're so good for him so expect that praise, whether you want it sweet or mean.

then we also have his facial expressions!! the smirk he uses to rile you up or that he flashes you, all mean and haughty because he knows he's getting to you. the fake pity too!! lord help me, once again the utterly fake pity just falls under that condescending persona that was so hot about meg!sam. i'm just gonna use photo evidence and you can imagine him looking at you like that!! enjoy!

last thing i have to say about meg!sam is manhandling!! ahahaahahahaahahah i'm normal and okay!! (this is a cry for help i need him so bad). um yeah while i hate the context of the manhandling of jo in the episode because it's crossing so many boundaries, i will still enjoy the fact that he is hot. so yeah! have fun thinking about sam whirling you around and pinning you between his chest and nearest surface, hand on your forehead to tilt your chin up and give him full access to the skin of your neck. his other hand is pinning your wrist to whatever surface is behind you, and your own free hand is tangled in his hair and he lays wet, desperate kisses all over your neck and collarbone. that's all hahahahaha :)))) feeling so sane right now!!

[slasherhoe87]

Good Morning Honey🥰

I hope you have a good rest of the week🖤🥺

I was wondering Dark! Stepdad Michael x f| reader where Michael has been dating your mother for months and a year he's moved in with you two he starts a relationship with you while mother goes out for work or a trip away for work and something happens, I love your blog <3

Thanks Megan, you as well 😊😉

Man, did this idea make me smirk. I'll give it my best shot - hope you'll like it!

Dark!Stepdad OG Michael Myers (set in modern day) x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cheating / Age Gap: Michael is 38 and Reader is 19

NSFW / MDNI

You looked down into the back yard through your bedroom window with utter dread. Your mom had invited a bunch of her friends and some select few family members for a Saturday afternoon bbq and you were not looking forward to mingling with them.

You knew the same questions would be fired at you, such as have you found work yet? have you met anyone special? i hope you help your mom around the house? when last have you seen your dad? Then they'll go back to ignoring you and carry on with their insipid conversations about their marriages and work life. As always. Leaving you to sit there like a stooge with no one to talk to.

You at least managed to get out of the first hour or so of the bbq by lying to your mom that you had a headache and that you just wanted to take a pill and have a bit of a sleep so that the medication could work before you join everyone for lunch. She believed you, to your own surprise, as the 'ol headache excuse was one of the oldest in the book.

Michael of course was not so lucky. He could not escape the dull chore of domestic entertainment and socializing that was a bbq this time around. Usually the moment mom mentioned the words 'friends', 'family' and 'coming over' Michael would disappear for a day or two and your mom had to make up stories as to his whereabouts.

You had a giggle to yourself as you spied Michael standing with the men around the grill, an apple cider in hand and a 'dear god please kill me now' expression on his usually stoic face.

You looked at him for a bit longer, admiring how the navy tshirt he wore stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, how his black jeans hugged his shapely thighs and ass.

You always felt guilty when you looked at and thought about Michael in any way other than platonic. The Shape of Haddonfield was your mother's boyfriend after all. Lusting after the serial killer seemed wrong for so many reasons.

But you simply couldn't help it. He was too compelling, too darkly alluring, too physically attractive. He reminded you of a jungle cat - beautiful and svelte, dexterous and strong and so very enchanting to gaze upon. But he was also deadly and dangerous, an apex predator. Death in human form - the boogeyman. And that made him all the more alluring for you. Your mom obviously felt the same, otherwise she'd have run for the hills by now.

Michael must have felt eyes on him as you jerked slightly when you again looked at his face and found him staring up and right at you. His usual blank expression was back in place but his eyes always held so much emotion that he didn't need to use any expressions.

His head tilted a bit to the left as if asking why you weren't down there suffering alongside him. You took pity on the murderous man and decided that you had hidden away in your bedroom for long enough.

Let's just get this started and over with

You looked at Michael one last time before you left your bedroom and made your way downstairs, passing a gaggle of your mom's friends who were gossiping and giggling about who-know's-what. You gave them a quick hello and a wave and rolled your eyes as you exited out of the living room's sliding door and out into the back garden.

You were immediately accosted by your two overbearing aunts with their obedient and wimpy husbands trailing after them. They of course bombarded you with the usual questions, judgement in their eyes and fake interest and sincerity dripping from their tongues. All they wanted was gossip fodder and you were glad your life was relatively boring and free of anything to gossip over.

Realizing this, your aunts quickly ended the "conversation" and stalked off to a couple of your mom's friends. You huffed and walked over to the grill, intending to save Michael from his torment.

Before you could take another step forward your mom intercepted you and blocked your view of the handsome man with the butterscotch curls and intense stormy blue eyes.

"y/n sweetie, Angela is driving me crazy with her tales of her and Peter's trip to the UK - she's expecting me back to hear about their casino trip disaster asap. God I just can't get away. Please go to the kitchen and finish making the potato salad - I just managed to cut them into cubes before she found me and dragged me away" your mom huffed and rubbed her temples.

You chuckled and nodded before gesturing to your aunts. "Try sending her and Peter to aunt Yvette and aunt Miranda - they'll keep each other busy for hours with their gossip mongering"

"Good idea!" exclaimed your mom as she pecked you on the cheek before begrudgingly trekking back to her friends Angela and Peter.

You turn back to look over at the grill and see Michael staring intently at you again. You blush and clear your throat before you walk up to the intimidating killer.

"Sorry boys but I need help in the kitchen and I'll be taking Michael along with me" you say as you gently grasp Michael's wrist.

The men barely heard you over their own boisterous laughter and storytelling with you only receiving a few half-hearted grunts and "no problems" in return.

Of course they wouldn't miss Michael, he was practically a piece of garden furniture standing beside them. Silent and still as a statue.

Michael let you drag him through the throngs of guests before the both of you stopped in the now empty kitchen with everyone else enjoying the music and sunshine outside.

"Next time you're taking me with you to wherever you disappear to when mom has one of these get-togethers, ok?" you say as you get a spoon out of the drawer and reach for the ground salt and pepper.

Naturally you were met with silence but you weren't fazed. Despite his stillness you knew he was taking in your every word and movement. Which was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.

To your surprise Michael went to the fridge and pulled out the onions, green and red peppers, chives and mayonnaise and handed them to you before silently moving to your side again. You smiled up at him and mouthed a thanks before you began the task of dicing up the veggies to add to the potatoes.

Your concentration on your task was at level zero with how close Michael was standing next to you. His presence was larger than life, engulfing you in a sort of tangible energy that threatened to swallow you whole if you allowed it.

You felt his eyes raking over your form and your heart began thrumming wildly within your chest. Your eyes were glued to the cutting board but at this point, with the atmosphere Michael was setting you were simply working on auto pilot.

Ever so gently - which was a miracle in of itself coming from Michael - he ghosted his fingertips along your forearm, circling your elbow before moving up your bare upper arm. Goosebumps formed on your flesh, the fine hairs on your body stood to attention and your nipples hardened and pebbled beneath your sundress.

You didn't know what in the hell had gotten into Michael but your body didn't want him stop. And stop he didn't. Your nerves felt like they were set on fire as the tall man moved to stand flush behind you, both of his hands softly caressing your ribs on either side, his lips gently brushing over where your neck meets your shoulder.

You let out a small gasp, your eyes closed and you stopped cutting the veggies. This was wrong, so so wrong. You shouldn't give in to this, you should yell and push him away and march to your mom and tell her what her boyfriend just pulled in the kitchen. But you don't listen to your head. You fall into your body's desire and succumb to the ministrations Michael is performing on your flushed skin.

"Michael this is wrong" you try and tell him but your words lack conviction and are instead laced with lust. "We can't do this" you try once more but your eyes shoot open and a loud breath leaves you as Michael lowers himself to his knees, lifts the hem of your dress and drags his index finger along your cotton clothed slit.

Little jolts of electricity bounce to every nerve and cell of your body as Michael repeats the motion while his soft lips press chaste kisses against your bare bottom. You nervously look out through the empty living room and into the garden where you can see the guests drinking and chatting away, none the wiser of what's happening in the kitchen with their friend's daughter and her boyfriend.

Michael moves to sit on the kitchen floor, his back against the kitchen cabinets and his face right in line with your now dripping pussy. A wanton moan escapes you as he pulls your cotton thong down to your knees and grips your throbbing clit with his lips, giving it a deep pull, his teeth gently scraping against the sensitive flesh.

"Michael!" you gasp as your hands drop the red pepper and knife and instead grip the curls atop his head as Michael continues to caress your clit with his lips and tongue. You find yourself grinding against his face at the pleasure wracking through your heated body as Michael's large hands grip each one of your ass cheeks, firmly squeezing and massaging them.

Eventually you feel the blazing tightening deep in your core as your orgasm fast approaches. "Michael... I'm gonna..." you can't form coherent sentences with how good the serial killer's mouth is abusing your pulsing clit. Michael gives your ass cheek a firm, hard slap - his way of commanding you to cum for him.

That hard slap sent a pleasurable jolt through to your pussy which pushed you over the edge. Your hands flew to your mouth to cover your euphoric cry as the orgasm which wracked your body was the most intense you had ever felt - your own fingers had never and most likely could never bring such an orgasm about.

You panted and gripped the counter while trying to steady your breathing as you came down from your high. You looked down onto Michael who was staring back up at you. The bottom half of his face was glistening with your juices, and while his features showed no emotion, his eyes were smoldering with satisfaction and something else you couldn't identify... something dark.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

A few weeks had passed since your and Michael's initial escapade in the kitchen and since then the two of you had been indulging in one another and simply spending more time with each other whenever you could - you of course enjoyed the carnal pleasure that Michael brought you but more than that you found you really enjoyed his company. His mere presence calmed your otherwise natural nervous disposition and you found you shared a lot of things in common such as your music, movie and even food tastes among some other things and interests. You were never the one to initiate though, you were far too shy and guilt-ridden for that.

You couldn't believe what you were doing to your mom. She loved Michael but Michael clearly didn't love her. So why was he in a relationship with her? Was it perhaps one out of convenience? A roof over his head, food, a body to keep him warm and satisfied? You could imagine his barren old childhood home didn't offer much of anything, not like your and your mom's home could.

You didn't really know how to feel about that. If that was the case then he was simply using your mom while she in return was giving her resources, time, heart and body to someone who held no true feelings for her.

With an aggravated huff you pushed those ruminations to the back of your mind, where you had been trying to keep them caged and out of sight so that the guilt didn't eat you up while you fell deep and hard into the Michael abyss - you were treading dangerous terrain with Michael and you were afraid to where it would lead to.

"You seem deep in thought y/n" you jumped, startled by your mom's voice as you sat on the sofa, with you only partially paying attention to The Last of Us showing on the tv.

"Oh! Uhm, yeah.. sorry. Just thinking about the interview yesterday. I hope I get the job" you lie nervously as you look up at your mom.

"Don't worry hun, you'll get it. That job is perfect for you, Mr. Jenkins would be a fool to let you slip through his fingers. You would be so happy in that little bookstore. Just you, your boss and a ton of books. I know you'd hate to work in a large office building with hundreds of people, bright lighting and loud constant noise like myself"

You blow out a small breath as you rake your fingers through your hair. "I don't know how you manage that, I would never be able to get any work done and I think half the time I'd just hide away in the bathroom"

Your mom chuckles and pats your head before grabbing a chocolate covered pretzel from the bowl in front of you. "By the way, I just came to let you know that I'll be leaving for a couple of days with Don. Some seminar in Seattle and he wanted me to tag along"

Your eyes narrowed as your mom carried on speaking about the business trip, though Don was more on her tongue than the actual details of the trip itself. She raved about his big house and red Porsche, and how many new business ventures he was wading into. She had stars in her eyes and a dusting of pink on her cheeks as she practically gushed about her wealthy boss and all his possessions.

You couldn't believe it. Was your mom really feeling some type of way about Don the Douchebag? You hated that guy - you'd never met anyone more smug, self-important, materialistic and pretentious as that man. You had to be wrong about this, you just had to.

Michael was 100 times more of a man than Don could ever hope to be! Sure, Michael didn't have any material possessions or financial resources but he outshone Don in all other ways.

Michael was handsome, he was strong, capable, had an indomitable will, he had an endless pool of determination and conviction. He was sure in and of himself and let nothing stand in his path. His skill as a lover was to your limited knowledge, skilled perfection. He was smart and had a subtle humour that resonated with you which often left the two of you snickering while your mom stood there not understanding the joke.

When you felt down he would sit close by you, he never spoke but his presence comforted you - he had even allowed you to hug him on occasion when you had had a rough day at school and you needed physical affection - your mom was always working of course and you were often left at home with Michael. Sometimes you'd come home to a sandwich having been made for you by him, which always softened your heart to the ruthless killer.

He wa-- you stopped your inner defense and monologue of Michael and realized you sounded just the same as your mom who was raving about Don. You paused and alarmingly wondered where all those thoughts and praises came from - and they came so quickly too.

As your inner self had spoken so vehemently about Michael a warmth had spread throughout your chest that set your heart racing. Spooked at this, you quickly shut that train of thought down and focused back on the now retreating form of your mom who was informing you that she'd be up in her bedroom packing for the business trip.

You felt eyes on you and looked to the doorway that lead to the garage. Michael stood there in his coveralls and mask, a shiver ran down your spine as those two empty black voids of the mask bored right through you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when he turned around and went back into the garage.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Michael had been a bit distant from you and scarce from the house since your mom had been away, only showing up for dinner and two lunches. You worried at this change. Did you do something to upset him? Was he angry at you for some reason?

You didn't quite understand it, but you felt hurt by his absence and distance. You shouldn't though, he's not your boyfriend - he belongs to your mom. So why is that fact starting to hurt too?

You were lying flat on your stomach on your bed doodling in your sketchbook the night before your mom was due to arrive back from the seminar. Your thoughts were everywhere except on your drawings.

These past few weeks had unlocked something within you which had perhaps been there for a long time and only now after certain events had been transpiring was it bubbling to the surface.

That something was Michael.... and your feelings for the masked killer. You knew you shouldn't feel the things you did for him - he was a serial killer, an escaped patient... or inmate? Honestly you felt he was a bit of both. He was way older than you and most importantly he was your mom's lover... not yours.

But you had crossed that line already, had you not? None of those burdensome thoughts crossed your lusty little mind when his mouth and tongue were attached to your wet little pussy, when his long dextrous fingers were inside of your tight hole or when your lips were wrapped around his lengthy, girthy cock. You had no right to bemoan your issues with Michael and your feelings when they meant so little during your desire filled hazes.

Suddenly you felt a dip in your bed from behind you. Your eyes grew wide and your heartbeat sped up. You felt a large body lean over you, caging you between their legs and arms - the white tip nose of the familiar latex mask brushed up against your cheek and down the column of your neck inhaling your scent.

Heat and moisture immediately pooled between your legs as Michael ground his groin against your ass. You could feel his hard length through his coveralls and your thin lacy panties. A small whimper escaped you as Michael moved his hand between your legs and palmed your clothed pussy. He grunted at the warm moisture which had soaked right through the thin material and now coated his calloused skin.

A startled gasp left you as Michael flipped you with ease onto your back - that expressionless sinister mask staring down at your prone form. You noticed his coveralls were stained with darkened splotches here and there and then you spied a little bit of crimson close to the left ear of his mask - he had just come back from a kill... or killings, no doubt. A sickening thrill shot through you and to your core at the thought, your breathing visibly picked up and your pussy clenched.

You should be disgusted and ashamed with yourself at the fact that his killing actually turned you on so much or at all, but as usual, as The Shape lifted your short nightie up your body and shimmied it up over your shoulders and off your head your reservations and warnings fell to the wayside.

You stared up at the killer in eager anticipation as his large, calloused hands began to roam your soft, warm body. You sighed contentedly as his fingertips gently ran down over your ribs, beneath your breasts, down the center of your belly and over your hipbones only stop atop your soft pubic mound.

Your eyes bored into the two shadowed holes of his mask, feelings you didn't understand and maybe didn't want to understand swam at the forefront of your mind as Michael worshipped your body with a sensuality and gentleness you didn't think him capable of. But should you really be shocked? Michael had been surprising you for the last 3 years by proving all the preconceived notions about him wrong. Even your mom took him at face value and never delved deeper into the man behind the mask.

You smirked not so innocently inside your mind, this was something you had of Michael that she didn't. Michael showed you and you alone the real him, the man beyond the one dimensional aspect of the serial killer, the true Michael Audrey Myers and you would savour this for as long as you could.

Michael then trailed his warm hands back up your body to your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving them a firm squeeze before his fingers began rolling and pinching your pebbled nipples.

You mewled and squirmed at the sensation as his ministrations on your nipples sent small jolts of electricity down to your aching clit.

Michael then took his right hand and brought his fingers to your mouth, pushing his middle and index fingers past your lips for you to suckle and lave with your tongue. You stared up at him again, your half lidded eyes making contact with his own as he finger fucked your mouth. Your ears perked up as you heard the faintest of moans from behind his mask - you smirked to yourself as you found that there were few things sexier than a man who was vocal during sex, even if it were on the softer side. Not that you had been with other men to personally know and hear them moan, as you were a virgin - but you did watch porn.

Him removing his fingers from your mouth broke your chain of thought as you watched him move his hand down to your pussy where he then inserted his wet fingers into your clenching, eager hole.

You squirmed and mewled as he began pumping his long thick digits in and out of your slick pussy, his other hand was rubbing circles around your throbbing clit.

The pleasurable sensations made you tweak and pinch at your nipples which sent you over the edge. With a cry your orgasm shot through your body, your pussy spasmed and clenched around Michael's fingers, your clit pulsated and you sighed in satisfaction with your head hitting your pillow as you came down from your orgasm.

You watched lazily and contentedly as Michael removed his fingers and made to unzip his coveralls. You admired his fit form as more and more skin was revealed the lower his zipper went.

Once his coveralls had pooled below his hips and his throbbing, red tipped member was released you assumed he was after a blowjob as the two of you had not had actual sex with one another yet.

Your eyes widened when Michael brought the head of his large cock to your slick pussy and dragged it up your slit before circling it over and around your sensitive clit.

Was he planning to-- was this the night!? And with Michael Myers??

Your heartbeat sped up again and your chest visibly rose and fell. Michael looked towards you and tilted his head, seeing your sudden nervousness.

He reached for his mask and pulled it off, tossing it on the floor before returning his attention on you. His stormy blue eyes were darkened with lust yet held a softness to them that you were unused to as he gazed into your own e/c eyes.

Your breath hitched as bent forwards and placed a chaste kiss to your lips. You closed your eyes and felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip asking for entrance. You obliged and opened your mouth, allowing his tongue access. The kiss, at least from your end was sloppy and amateurish as you had never kissed anyone before this. Michael didn't seem to care as he moaned into your mouth. His bare chest was now flushed against yours, his hold on both sides of your head became firmer as the kiss deepened and became more desperate.

You raked your fingernails across his back and gasped into the kiss as you felt the tip of his cock poke at your entrance. Michael pulled away from the kiss leaving you panting and smiling up at him. Never did you ever think a kiss could be so good.

You looked down to where Michael's length was gently resting atop your pubic mound and wondered if you were ready to lose your virginity... to your mom's boyfriend.

The easy reply was yes, a thousand times yes. You wanted this so fucking badly and with nobody else but Michael. And before the other voice in your head could list all the reasons of why you shouldn't do this and why it was wrong you pushed it to the very back of your mind and smiled up at Michael once more before spreading your legs a little wider - your permission for him to continue. For the both of you to go through with this. For Michael Myers to take your virginity.

Michael dragged his nails along your hips and along your thighs before he gripped them and pushed them as wide apart as he could. The cool air hit your moist pussy causing you to whimper. Taking his cock in his hand he ran the head up your slit before rubbing small circles over your clit, you moaned and cupped your breasts. You had never wanted anything more than this before. This is feeling was so unfamiliar, so strange and yet felt so right, so good.

"Michael, please... I need you.. now" you whined as you tweaked your nipples and ran your hands down your flushed body.

Needing no more confirmation Michael aligned the head of his cock with your entrance before carefully pushing inside. You gasped and whimpered at the burning and stinging stretch, gripping Michael's forearms tightly as they rested on either side of you.

Tears welled in your eyes at the painful sensation and looking down at your now joined bodies you knew that Michael's impressive girth was not helping.

Michael began moving in and out of you at a steady pace and slow rhythm, giving you time to adjust to the new sensations.

Soon the sting and burn began to dissipate and pleasure washed over you. You moved your hips forward to meet his thrusts which had now picked up pace and strength.

"Yes Michael... harder.. faster!" you moaned louder as Michael obliged. His pace became thunderous, your hips and thighs visibly rippling as his pelvis slammed against your sweaty, heated skin again and again and again.

Your nails scratched at his back, your toes curled. You never would have thought sex could actually feel this fucking good. The stretch of Michael within you was overwhelming as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each deep thrust causing you to let out obscene moans of intense pleasure.

As the both of you chased your orgasms, Michael too became more vocal. His low, throaty grunts and moans sent thrills down your spine, hastening the euphoria that was fast approaching.

Michael leaned down for another desperate kiss as his fingers lavished your clit with needed attention.

The kiss broke as Michael let out a pornographic moan at his orgasm, thick ropes of warm sticky cum coated your fluttering walls and with a cry your own orgasm assaulted you at hearing Michael. Your pussy clenched and gripped his shaft, milking it of everything it had to offer.

Michael collapsed on top of you, his weight and him still sheathed inside of you comforted you in a way you didn't know you needed.

You brought your hand up and began running your fingers through his curly sandy blond hair, a content smile gracing your lips. You didn't want to speak to ruin this peaceful moment, so you closed your eyes and continued your ministrations on Michael's head as he hummed in sleepy approval.

There were so so so many things to contemplate on now and to consider going forward but as sleep began to take you, you would worry about everything tomorrow.

If only you had heard the key being slotted into the front door downstairs....

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Megan, girl, sorry lol I got carried away with this one - its way longer than I anticipated. Hope you don't mind 😄

[katyspersonal]

Tbh being in this fandom helped me to recover my love for drawing?

I've always loved to draw, since early childhood, and I've always picked bright colors and put too much thought and detail into drawings! Like, I wasn't yet six years old and my ways to draw were already showing xD

Things started to go sour since maybe 14, because it was when teachers noticed my talent and started to exploit it to make me draw shit for stupid school events -_- It was also when I started to draw digitally, so, posting my art online. It became an obligation I was not even compensated for irl and a strong stress of "getting audience" and "improvement" online. And it was a very long timeframe of drawing with how my art will be received in mind. I think I've temporarily lost originality as an artist when I've got on Tumblr, even. Because I tried to chameleon to ideas, trends and styles of everyone else. It's been YEARS.

But joining this fandom forced me to abandon my fixation on reception. I've never gotten my art side-eyed and disliked so much in my whole life. I've heard pearls like "You don't have a talent (as an artist) and it is cringe that you say you do", "I don't like how you draw people", "I think you should focus on writing, you are way better at it than at visual art", "Only people who can't draw would enjoy your art" - and none of these came from haters! A lot of ignoring, a lot of visible and obvious irritation from a fan of [character] because I've drawn them "ugly", pity liking because they don't like my art but like me as a person, nothing good to say about my art besides "well you've put a lot of effort in" etc. It just became obvious that my art doesn't fit in Soulsborne fandom. Everyone here are talented, studied artists with academical skill. When they aren't, their style is appealing, simple, anime-ish and pleasing for the eyes. And then there is me lol

The thing is, whereas I had multiple episodes of wanting to delete all my fanart from socials, wanting to give up on art altogether, starting to hate my art myself because others hated it and avoiding looking at other artists' blogs to not face the humiliation of how much more love they get compared to me... I waded through it.

I came out of it a stronger person, that learned to love drawing only and ONLY for the heck of it. I've noticed that I really just like drawing, because it's fun. Because I want to see some drawing, not because someone else might. I was forced to grow up, except.. I wasn't? I could have given up on art like I "wanted" to! I knew some artists in Soulsborne, mostly 16-17 but not only, who gave up on drawing (at least for this fandom) or straight up abandoned their blogs because of facing similar snobbery regarding their art styles! They were similarly very detailed and "inconvenient", to think back on it. 🤔 But I am here, right? I didn't even do the bare minimum of trying to "fix" my art style to be more "appealing", I just continued drawing the way I like to.. and tbh, the way I used to love drawing back in childhood returned. Long ago before internet, "content", "platform", "relevance" and all this stupid shit that defeats the point. I am lucky to get 30 notes on fully colored fully detalized drawing, 20 of which are friends or mutuals, but I just stopped caring? I am drawing for the heck of it, so many years later, again?

In general, guys, I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you are dealing with ignoring, snobbery, taunting or all at once as an artist, I really recommend you to endure through it and not give up. Eventually you will naturally become strong and self-sufficient! The best way to learn to not rely on anyone else's approval is to actually not be given this approval but continue. The joy of enjoying the drawing regardless of whether your art is liked by others is a wealth much bigger than popularity

[dreamweaversfavsandthoughs]

Rick and Morty Season 7 Episode 1 Favs and Thoughts

(and maybe a small rant)

Rick and Morty season 7 has officially begun and this is the first time on this blog I plan on sharing some of my favs (and maybe some not favs) and my thoughts about each episode.

This will NOT be spoiler-free so turn back now if you haven’t watched the episode yet. If you have watched the episode or don’t care if you run across spoilers then please proceed.

My Favs:

The new voice actors!

Ian Cardoni and Harry Belden as Rick and Morty, respectively. I thought the actors did an amazing job at capturing the characters, even though we didn’t hear much from Belden this episode. I was looking them up on IMDB and some of their previous work included being an announcer for Wrestlemania, acting in a really crappy looking Disney Channel Christmas movie, and one of the better gigs, playing a bit part on Joe Pera Talks With You. And now they’re the stars of Rick and Morty. Talk about a big break.

Morty’ s snarky coffee comment and Rick’s sarcasm.

Morty is becoming more like his grandfather every season because that comment feels like something Rick would say. Also, I feel that in such a small scene the banter between Rick and Morty seems a bit richer with two different actors playing off each other as opposed to just having Roiland do the two voices. Hopefully we get some bigger scenes to really get a chance to hear them together.

BirdDaughter!

Ok. To be honest, I’m a little bummed that she was rescued off screen but I’m not going to let that ruin my enjoyment of the season. So she is home and she is an absolute teenage terror! BP took a dive into the deep end of the parenting pool with that one. Others have made this comment as well but I love her punk rock aesthetic that she’s got going on, ahold over from her days at Femme Fatale Training Camp. I hope Morty never meets her because I think he would be SMITTEN for approximately 10 seconds until she kicked his ass to another dimension (or she might be just as smitten by him and in that case I don’t think the multiverse could handle that relationship).

Ghost Robot

I thought it was really clever joke overall especially when Rick interrupts the download for “Business” so it’s unfinished. Get it huh huh get it. Hope he shows up later in the season.

The gangs all back!

I enjoyed the absolute silliness of Rick’s pitiful attempt at an intervention that turns into a drug and alcohol fueled bender that turns into an attempt to woo Amy back, a fight with Mr. PBH’s ex-wife’s new paramour ( who is a Predator hired to spy on her) and then coming to the realization that Amy has moved on and her and Poopy Jr. are in a much happier place, and because of that, Mr. PBH (or Wayne) can find closure in that and move on too.

The fade out pills and the Best Friend Burrito Box

I was giggling throughout the episode but I did love the fade out pill gag and Rick fading back in to explain the pill and give one to Mr. PBH then fading back out again. Also, I was so sad for Gene to get his Best Friend Burrito Box taken away! He wasn’t lying! He did have friends they just faded out without him.

My Not Favs:

Hugh Jackman.

I love the actor and this by no means pulled me out of the episode or ruined my enjoyment but I think the episode would have been stronger without him. Or, at least, have him actually secretly been a real wolverine. Not the superhero, Wolverine, but a wolverine that disguised himself as a human.

My Thoughts

(and my rant):

I think online discourse around film, television, and media has destroyed the ability to enjoy something that is just meant to be simple and silly and fun. If an episode of a season is not “mind-blowing” or “moves the narrative forward” it is immediately the worse thing ever. Was this the best episode of Rick and Morty? No. Was it the worse? No. Was it mind-blowing? No, but most Rick and Morty episodes aren’t and I realize I just said something sacrilegious. Was it deeply philosophical? Again no, but most Rick and Morty episodes aren’t. Again I’m being blasphemous in some circles of the fandom. Was it funny? I thought so but your mileage may vary.

Overall, I found it on the same level of episodes like the one were Morty impregnates a sex bot, 2nd interdimensional cable, Tiny Rick, or the dinosaur episode from last season. So I was really surprised at such a strong negative reaction to an episode that I thought was perfectly fine. I feel that the reaction was completely unwarranted and out of proportion with the episode we got. I’ll caveat it with most of the negative reaction being on Reddit ( which I realize is Reddit and Reddit will do what it will do). A vast majority of critic reviews I read were pretty positive and so has the discourse on Tumblr for the most part. I’m sure some of it is coming from Justin dickriders pissed he face actually consequences for his actions, but not all of it.

I felt the new episode would have fit very comfortably in with season 6 ( which I felt was a great season). Maybe it wasn’t to the level as other premiers but I had fun watching it. I love me a deep lore episode or a mind-bending sci-fi, but I also appreciate an episode that suppose to just be fun and silly and relaxed with a little bit of heart. I enjoy seeing Rick try to help his friend out of a rut and I’m glad there is some closure on Mr. PBH’s arc. And it was good to see the friends reunite. Squanchy’s alive, Birdperson is navigating fatherhood and we got to see a side of Rick we don’t see a lot. And if it’s any consolation to those who absolutely hated the episode, next week’s episode is supposedly a lot stronger.

I think it’s okay to criticize an episode but I did see one Redditor complain that he thought (and I feel comfortable assuming this person was a he) that Rick and Morty was now turning into…a sitcom. I swear I felt my soul leave my body. I wanted to say :

Honey, Dear, Sweetheart

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’VE BEEN WATCHING FOR THE LAST TEN YEARS!

I’m not actually mad I just thought that was hilarious and wanted to share that.

[littlehypnone]

Hi hi! When I found out this existed I half bout fell out my chair. I love all the writing you have and I’m so excited for more. You’re actually one of the people that inspired me to write on my own blog

I was wondering if you had any ideas about cg Copia? Maybe he wants to help out but he’s nervous at first and the ghouls are helping him but it turns out he’s an absolute natural at it?

Just a thought. Again super excited to read more of your work!

-🍁

first of all whaaa that makes me so happy i was one of the people who inspired you!!! second of all its really short and im sorry about it but i totally did not have any idea, i dont really write papas so my brain didn't want a cooperate. but also i have it written in my pinned that i dont really write papas for requests ahsfhagsf

He didn’t take it the best, at first. He felt very much out of place. Not because he thought it was something bad or wrong, he just… he was just confused. His wires may have gotten a bit crossed and even though he was great with children, he wasn’t doing the best with little ghouls. At first.

Being a natural that he was, he got past his initial surprise pretty quickly, and soon enough he was a professional caregiver, loved by the littles.

This time, he ended up with Dewdrop, a happy little creature, all warm and giggly that day. They went through a part of the morning together and Copia had to mentally hype himself up to be ready to face a lunchtime Dewdrop. He was cute, but he was a monster.

“Can we do it without both of us needing a shower this time?” he teased, booping the tip of the little ghoul’s nose and watching him go cross eyed. “Hm, Mostriciattolo?” (Little monster.)

“Yara!” Dewdrop cheered. At least his expression implied that, because Copia only knew a few words of ghoulish and this wasn’t one of them.

“I just hope you’re not insulting me,” he chuckled and went on preparing some light lunch for the both of them. When they—or rather Copia—was done, he sat Dewdrop on his lap and sighed, looking up at the ceiling and pitying it already. “Behave, please. It’s just food. Food that you like, piccolo diavoletto.” (Little devil.)

The fire ghoul giggled and blew a raspberry before poking Copia’s cheek, “Yara.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded and got to feeding Dewdrop his lunch. A few hours later when he was napping, Swiss came over. Copia remembered the word the little ghoul kept repeating and decided to ask Swiss about it.

“What’s the word?”

“I think it was yaro? Or yara,” Copia told him and watched the multi ghoul’s grin grow in real time. “What? What does it mean?”

“Little gremlin called you old, pops,” Swiss laughed.

Copia furrowed his brows, looking down at the ghoul in his arms in disbelief, and whisper-shouted, “You menace! You’re centuries older than me!”

“Not now,” Swiss chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Now he can call you old all he wants.”

[joosbasschick]

🌌Void🌌

A Ricky x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Summary: You have been having an extremely hard time for a few weeks, but today was just the one day that topped them all... So Ricky had to step in before he lost you to yourself.

Warnings/Mentions: Depression, Drug usage (prescribed medications), self-deprecation, LOTS OF CRYING, Pet names (Squirt, Honey, Sweetie, Maomao, and Darling), very small amount of violence? 

Hello everyone! I finally have completed my very first ZB1 fanfic and have truly become an official writer of Zumblr! This work has a lot of my emotions or feelings into it and was very self-indulgent when thought of. As many of my previous followers may have noticed, I’ve changed my user to “rickyschicky.” Yes, I’m going to mainly be writing about ZB1 from now on, but no I’ll still write for other groups/idols. But they most likely will be my ult biases or Idols that have a special place in my heart. This fic is coming out a lot later than I originally wanted it to due to a lot of personal things happening in my life. Now that this is released, I’ll be working on a proper pin that has a proper about me, rules for the blog, rules for asks and even an anon list for those who wish to SECRETLY stick around! Im very excited to have my fresh start, so perceive me well, pretty please! Feedback is always appreciated, and if you see mistakes don’t be afraid to send me a DM!

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

     This routine was normal for you, a dreaded ritual if anything. If you didn’t do this every morning and night, you know your life would be in shambles and unlivable. Curling into your favorite (F/C) blanket, you let out a sigh of emptiness as your feet mindlessly kick around in it. 

Managing depression, sucks.

     Mindlessly watching whatever was playing on the tv, the heart inside of your chest sunk deeper and deeper. Yet anything you put on couldn’t entertain you, not even rewatching your favorite shows. You can’t decide what’s worse; not remembering how many days it’s been since this started, not eating or hydrating enough, or the fact that you have shut all your friends out with your boyfriend being the very next one. You hear your best friend’s custom ringtone blare though your phone speakers at least twice a day, but you couldn’t help but sigh and say, “not today, (F/N)”. Everything from blaring sounds to the soft fabric currently on your fingertips felt like it was hardly there. Your body feels like over-used putty, numb and worn out from so much usage. It’s impossible though, it has felt like you haven’t moved from this spot in months. Who knows the actual time you even were here on the couch of you and your lover’s shared house.

     It’s pitiful how you couldn’t even jump from surprise when Ricky touches your head softly, “I’m home, squirt. I’m sorry I was out late, I wanted to finish getting a certain verse right.’ Only humming in response, you sit up and turn the tv down in an attempt to listen to him. By all means it wasn’t because you weren’t interested, it's far from that. It’s just hard to control your fuzzy mind and have it focus on something emotional at this moment in time. He didn’t like the lack-of response he received, gracefully walking over and sitting next to your cocooned form.

     “(Y/N), honey. Please look at me.” You tear your gaze from the random spot you decided to zone out on and look into his gentle, cat shaped eyes. They were full of concern and distress. You almost hated how he could easily read you like an open book just by the way you act or look. 

     “Sweetie don’t start crying, I am far from mad at you. I just want you to talk to me, tell me what you feel.” Ricky takes no time in using his large thumb to brush away the tears that unknowingly fell from your lash line. He lets his long arms wrap around your figure, pulling you into his comforting lap. 

     The first thought you could even think of through the numerous tears was ‘why am I like this?’. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you choke out a sob harder and limply lay your head on his shoulder. You take your medicine day and night as prescribed, so why are you still feeling like a hollow doll that’s incapable of nothing? Even in the love of your life’s arms, you couldn’t feel an ounce of happiness.

     Ricky sensed this, pulling your chin up and bringing you into a sweet and gentle kiss as he whispers soft praises of how strong you are. “Hey hey hey, don’t work yourself up too much (Y/N). We both know we will feel like shit, and I’ll call Hanbin to let him know I can’t come in to practice because you are just sooo sad.” He gives a cute pout, tickling your sides in mockery. Through your tears, you let out a huff that quickly turns into a squeal. You quickly throw your fists up and start lightly punching him in his wide shoulders and chest in an attempt to get his fingers away from your sensitive sides.

     “The last thing I need is for you yelled at by mother, Shen Ricky.” You scold, feeling a breath of life flow through your veins. It was hard to be upset when he acts silly or in this case: say something utterly stupid and cute. He chuckles, noticing how you were starting to change right before his eyes. He knew he had to continue before you slip back. 

     “Well, I can always bring you to practice?” 

     “Ricky, WakeOne literally won’t let me, even if you beg.”

     You sit in silence before just snorting at his antics. You shimmy out of the blanket and take care to put it around you and him, straddling his lap so you can lay your head on his collarbone right under his chin. Soon your body melts as you go limp once more. Ricky quickly accepted this new position by wrapping his arms around your lower back snugly, giving many annoying kisses to your temples and forehead. He felt you changing again and wanted to halt the process. Deciding this was too annoying right now, you attempt to pull the blanket above your head. Not liking this, your boyfriend quickly grabs the blanket with his teeth and starts tugging on it playfully, tickling your sides ferociously.  

     “What are you, a dog?” 

     “Actually, I’m a cat.”

     You don’t waste a second to jab your hand in his side, hearing him whimper for you to let up and be gentle. He sighs, giving up and letting you hide under the soft fabric, rocking your curled up form that was on his lap. After being together for a while, he knew your limits and when to stop. You just wanted someone to physically be there for you today, so that’s what he will do. Slowly moving the blanket off the top of your head, he gently clears his throat to sing for you in his mother tongue. You voiced to him before you loved hearing him sing so comfortably in his first language and even encouraged him to teach you a few songs in Chinese. 

     Not soon after you were about to pull the blanket over your head, you heard his deep, breathy voice fill your ears. Stopping your current action, you tuck your hair behind your ears so you could hear him clearly (even if you couldn’t understand a single thing coming from his lips), and let your head lay heavy on his shoulder. Sure, Ricky could be a total annoying brat when he wanted to be, but times like this are when you are the most thankful for him. You felt at one of your lowest points and instead of running or simply saying, ‘suck it up’, he stuck around and tried to learn how to take care of you and cheer you up. He took his time learning your needs, favorite activities and foods, and even points of his personality you enjoyed the most. You were his rose, freshly bloomed and bright red with an addicting scent. His romance, the one that made his heart fall in his stomach and bounce of his rib cage with a simple stare and gentle laugh. If he could, you would be carried everywhere in his pocket wherever he traveled. Ricky truly loved you, just for who you are.

     Not a second after he finished the song, you were wiping tears. You didn’t know what tears they really were at this point. You felt numb, but you at least felt something now compared to earlier. Sitting up carefully, you rub your raw puffy eyes to attempt to see him. Blinking rapidly, you saw he had a gentle smile on, your second favorite smile. Nothing could beat his largest, brightest smile he gives when he is bursting with happiness. Leaning over, you connect your sore lips with his thick, plush ones. Ricky’s chest rumbled smoothly under your hands that were propping you up, humming with the small show of affection. 

     “That’s my girl, so pretty even when she is the saddest soul on the planet.” He coos, large hands once again cupping your jaw tenderly. His eyes were sparkling, looking like the softest pieces of boba you have laid your own eyes on. Everything that exuded him at this moment spoke of love and truth. You lay your smaller hands ontop of his, enjoying the warmth of them. 

     “Maomao, let’s go to bed...I’m just really tired after today.” You confess, guilt laced in your voice. His thumb brushed your lip to hush you, smiling sweetly. 

     “There is nothing wrong with that, my darling. Let’s get some good rest and wake up to a new day. Together.” Your boyfriend promises, gently moving his hands to securely hold your thighs as he stands up and starts walking to your shared bedroom. He lays you down like royalty on the bed, swinging you in properly and tucks you in. By the time you were able to focus your eyes, he vanished from the room. 

     After a few minutes, you hear a familiar rattle come down the hallway as he slips in the room once again. He kneels by the bed a water in hand, and a yellow tinted bottle with a white cap on top. Sleepily, you grab the bottle and twist it open, smiling when you see the water bottle already opened and offered towards you.

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

         Managing depression, sucks.

                               But Ricky makes it suck a lot less. 

[not-everything-is-so-primitive]

time off-c.s.

choi san×AFAB reader

genre: smut(basically pwp), slightly fluffy

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i swear i never meant for a san pwp one shot to be my first work on my blog, but the brainrot is far too real, and i need distracting from my upcoming exams. anyway, here it is *chucks fic at you and casually runs away*.

warnings: marking, orgasm denial(kinda), the tiniest bit of a breeding kink, slight degradation but nothing super mean, mentions of oc's parents in a kinky situation (i swear i blacked out while writing this bit, your honour I'm innocent-), mentions of slight exhibitionism but nothing concrete, unprotected sex(the way i would NEVER do this irl, please wrap it up), mentions of that that san(yes it's a warning, we should have all been warned beforehand), san is slightly dominant, the mildest choking you could imagine, past kink negotiation/ exploration(very hot)

maybe it had been a while.

or maybe it was the shaky words san whispered in your ear as you reached your first peak on his fingers.

"you can leave all the marks you want today, baby." he whispered, while you arched off the bed, eyes shut tight.

san started to think you might not have heard him from the way you kept your eyes closed for a few moments longer, heaving as you came down from your high.

no such doubt was left when he saw the look in your eyes- both dazed and so focused at the same time.

san didn't need to look, to tell where your gaze was locked, as you darted with enough force to shove him away slightly, straight for your favourite spot.

the moment your lips connected with the junction between san's neck and shoulder, is when he let out his first proper moan of the night. that moan of course, serving only to egg you on further as you practically made out with his neck.

it was really such a pity. san had the prettiest neck, and let out the most sinful noises when you sucked on it. you had learned this during one of the first few times the two of you had spent the night -and the morning after- together. 

another thing you found out was that san bruised far so easily.

the morning after you had left kisses all over his neck and shoulders, the two of you stared at the multiple purple-pink bruises in horror(and a little bit of arousal).

needless to say, san had gotten into quite a lot of trouble when the bruises remained, almost mockingly obvious, even after 2 days.while the stylists had only lectured san, both you and your boyfriend were sat down in hongjoong and seonghwa's room to endure 45 minutes of pure torture. all while the both of you could hear yunho and wooyoung's obvious giggles from just outside the room.

that had been enough to stop at least one of you each time things got heated. the one time both of you had lost your heads, you had thankfully been interrupted by yunho barging in, preventing the mark from getting too severe. so the both of you had controlled yourselves. for so long.

no more.

with the latest comeback having drawn to a close and the members having the next week and a half off from any official schedules, it was time.

san started whimpering as you moved your lips to the spot right below the angle of his jaw.

that godforsaken jaw. the number of times you had wanted to mark it up, was ridiculous.

as you drew back a little and noticed the first site already darkening.

"oh baby, look at you" you moaned, making san squirm at the teasing tone of your voice. "i've barely even done anything, and yet you've been so deprived that the marks are already showing up?"

san took in a sharp breath."well it's you who needs it the most, isn't it my love? or do you think i don't noticed everytime you wrench yourself away from my neck, whenever you get carried away?" he teased.

"i bet you've been waiting for this day, haven't you? the day where you could mark me up like this, so everyone would know whom I belong to?" san continued, switching places with you so you sat on top of him.

"go ahead baby, you can shout it to the world, that i'm all yours- and always will be"

you melt at the last part-almost wanting to skip to taking him immediately- but quickly get back to the task at hand, while subtly grinding your bare cunt on the bulge that was straining against san's underwear.

god that fucking pair of underwear- you remember how badly you had been affected by that stupid logo peaking out while san performed his ass off to that that of all songs.

you turn your attention to his left shoulder, not wanting to leave it out, kissing and biting a few marks all over it.

san groaned even louder as he felt the tell tale cold trail of your saliva, dripping down his shoulder.

"my messy baby can't stop drooling over her boyfriend, can she" san teased, tightening his grip on your ass to press you even more flush against him.

you hummed in agreement, as you dipped even lower, to his left collarbone. san had the most delicate collarbones. you joked that they were the most babygirl aspect of him- practically begging to be bitten raw.

with san's neck, shoulders, and collarbones covered in your claim, you then turned your attention lower, kissing over his national treasure, as wooyoung would put it. slowly reaching the elastic band with that infernal logo on it, you looked up at your boyfriend of 2 years, pulling it away slightly with your teeth. san hissed once you let go of it- the band hitting him hard enough to sting slightly.

"come on baby, don't you have anything more to say?" you whispered, lips ghosting over his clothed crotch. "you couldn't keep your mouth shut just a few seconds ago, could you?" you question, giving san the most innocent eyes you could muster- while wearing nothing but a smile.

thinking you had gotten the last word, you reach for san's underwear with your hands, only to be met with resistance. 

san clutches your hands in his left hand, while gripping your jaw in his right. "oh baby, it looks like you might have misunderstood how things were going to go today." san and you didn't have the strictest roles in bed, and typically he'd let you set the pace, but it seemed he had something different in mind tonight. "now you can suck me off like you did with all these marks, and if you do a really good job, maybe i'll leave a few of my own on you."

oh he was cruel.

san knew that your only replacement for marking him up, was him marking you. you loved the feeling of walking around with your boyfriend's hickeys all over pretty much any exposed part of your body (and on a few unexposed parts too). nothing quite beat having a casual breakfast with san's members, while pretending to not notice how mingi's eyes would keep catching on your neck, just to quickly look away. the both of you would try to suppress your giggles as hongjoong would stutter through wishing you good morning- the leader not having any valid criticism of the purpling bruises on you neck. yunho had all but choked on his drink the time you had all been invited to a pool party, and he got an eyeful of just where san loved to mark you up when he goes down on you.

san looked you in the eyes with a question in his expression, as if to ask if you were okay with the shift in dynamics. you quickly nodded, pulling his boxers down and off of him, positioning yourself in between his legs. 

while it may be cheesy, you really did love being between san's legs.

you moved closer to his dick, and while not quite touching it, you looked down at it, with your best attempt at confusion. while you were far from innocent, you loved playing the naive girl whenever san took charge.

san, getting impatient, lightly tapped your cheek with it- the sensation immediately making you light headed- and your mouth opened, almost without your control. 

you delicately suckled on his tip while continuing to maintain eye contact with san. he had always liked to joke that no one could look as adorable as you, while giving a blow job.

you were in love.

san's breath grew heavier, as he carded though your hair lightly, almost apologizing for the way he'd be yanking on your scalp soon. "three taps, if you need to stop baby." he whispered, tipping his head back, as you traced your tongue against the underside of his cock.

you slowly started your journey to his pelvic bone, taking more and more of him, while making sure to control your breathing. you remember how you had barely been able to take san halfway, the first time you had tried this.

that wasn't the case anymore.

your boyfriend had moulded you to take him.

and he knew it too, of course. san took a firmer hold of your hair, while returning to look at you with an expression that was almost too tender for the situation.

"there you go, my love. you take me so well, like such a good girl." and you lost any and all thoughts that had been in your head.

as your eyes rolled back, san started rocking into your mouth, slowly inching deeper and deeper into you. your head progressively got lighter and cloudier, partly because of the lack of oxygen, and partly because of the situation, making you slip into a quietude mentally. as much as you loved having sex, san was the first person to introduce you to the pleasure in giving blowjobs.

the grip in your hair tightened to pull you off san, as you whined, looking up at him with a frown. "i want it." you whimper, trying to chase his cock, while he quickly pulled you away again, san's hands trembling slightly.

"you did such a good job baby, and you have absolutely no idea how even just looking at you so wrecked right now, is practically destroying any semblance of self control i thought i possessed." san replied with a small smile, wiping away some drool that had escaped the margin of your mouth.

"well-" you started, climbing onto san before he could stop you. "lose that self control quick, because i think you can already feel how ready i am." you said, as you slowly ground down on his thigh.

san mumbled something you couldn't quite hear, and pulled you onto his bed on all fours. he immediately dove for your cunt, leaving small kitten licks from your clit to your hole. 

you immediately lost all strength in your arms as san gripped your things and started sucking on your inner thigh, a mark that no one would see- at least until the next time the two of you decided to torture one of his members a little. your mouth once again dropped open to let out a sharp breath as your love lightly bit your clit, while pushing apart your legs a little more.

"do you need to cum like this, or can you wait for my cock baby?" san asked, practically smirking into your pussy.

"need you in me, sannie." you whined, sinking down onto the bed.

"well how could I ever say no to anything you ask me for?" san replied, the dominant persona slipping off for the night. "come here baby" he said, as he pulled you slowly onto his cock, groaning as he entered you.

"you were really made for me, weren't you darling? going to have to thank your parents for making the most perfect girl, for this cock." san said right into your ear, feeling the shiver that ran through you, and the tightening he felt  at his words. 

san had already met your parents and had even managed to impress your stern career soldier of a father. the idea of him saying something so filthy to your parents who had practically taken him as their son-in-law was…concerning.

san moved a hand to your lower belly, pushing you against him further. "thats my dirty little baby- such a good girl for the world, but an even better girl, only for me"

"only for you sannie." you echoed, reaching behind you to hold his free hand. you felt the steady climb in your core, signaling what was to come.

"i know baby, now cum for me sweetheart. be my perfect little baby and cum."

his words were all you needed as you tipped over the edge, the knot in your belly snapping as you repeated clenched around san. 

your orgasm was prolonged when you felt san bite your shoulder lightly, as he moved his free hand to press lightly against your throat.

it wasn't even hard enough to make you light headed- san and you had vigorously tested both your limits with choking a while ago, when you had both admitted to wanting to try it out. this wasn't anywhere near the level needed to actually choke you, but the mere feeling of san's hand wrapped around your throat like he owned you, was enough to make you go slightly loopy.

behind you, san lost his control, feeling you practically milk him. as he pushed into you one last time, cumming into your wet heat, he garbled out mess of barely coherent words "-good girl-such a good fucking girl-letting me mark you up inside and out-all mine-only my good girl-"

you whimpered as san slowly pulled out of you, him flipping you onto your back, whispering reassurances against your temple. he grabbed a wet wipe off yunho's side table and gently started wiping you clean, while simultaneously pushing pushing his dripping cum back into you with his pinky.

"i hope you're prepared for your members to get absolutely sick of of us for the next few days" your say, smiling into sans shoulder.

"oh, I'm counting on it. just imagine all the fake grocery store runs and studio visits they're going to have to come up with and leave us all alone in the dorm" san muses, already thinking of more obnoxious behaviour to get his roommates to leave the both of you alone.

"do you think you could fuck me over the kitchen counter again?" you ask.

"THAT'S WHERE OUR FOOD IS MADE, YOU DISGUSTING HEATHENS" you hear wooyoung yell from outside the room. "CAN I WATCH?"

[clarafell]

Inside the interior of Homura’s apartment. Did Homura use any form of magic to make the inside of her apartment like that?

unprompted / always accepting!

Hello there, dear anon. I want to start off by welcoming you to my little blog. Next, I want to personally thank you for taking the time to send me such a thoughtful question. I'm always willing to answer any questions related to the franchise since Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a really big comfort for me, even if it doesn't strictly relate back to my muse. As someone who adores everything about Homura so much, getting questions relating back to her always make me really happy. I always get super excited when I receive thoughtful questions out of the blue.

Let me get this out of the way: You are not the only person to question what the heck is happening in Homura's home in the franchise. There is a lot going on in her home. It's a pity she doesn't give a tour of her home, isn't it?

But the lack of concrete knowledge on Homura's home only makes her air of mystery all the more fascinating. Many fans alike have sat and pondered the same thoughts. I'm sure that everyone has their own personal headcanons on Homura's interior home, so please don't take my personal thoughts as facts. Here is my personal take on the interior of Homura's home...

Isn't Homura's home on the outside so pretty?

Allow me to mention that the world of Puella Magi Madoka Magica is shown to be sprinkled with advancements in technology. Let's take the school, for example. The desks are shown to be built so well that the desks can retract into the floor, effectively clearing away the room with only the push of a button. Gone are the days of stacking the desks away, at least in the school that Homura attends.

The image above reveals the floor where a desk is secretly located, ready to be pulled out for the student to use. The Japanese seen on the floor reads Sayaka Miki's name, showing exactly who the desk is belongs to via the digital sign. Not only does it state the student's name, but it states that she is absent. Isn't that cool?

I believe this example of technology advancement in a public space really does speak for itself about the world. There is a popular theory on why technology is so impressive: It is a visual example of how wishes have progressed the advancement of human kind throughout history. I believe this theory to be a really easy one to understand, but it also makes plenty of sense.

As for Homura's interior room...

There is a lot to unpack, but I believe the interior of her home is a strange mixture of both technology and her magic. With that said, I do heavily lean towards the technology side. Personally? I like the balance of both worlds. Not only do I believe that technology and magic are at play, but I also believe that Homura has sought out to refurbish her home.

I have reason to believe that parts of Homura's home are holographic displays. The frames of the various illustrations in the background appear to have frames that resemble image-like tabs. Not only that, it appears that Homura has found references in her studies over Walpurgisnacht. Judging by how old Walpurgisnacht is, I assume what we are seeing on the blank wall is Homura's research.

Walpurgisnacht aside, these clusters of images on the wall do scream that there is some form of technology at play in the background.

A closer look at the various images show that the window-like frames are actually physical frames. This little detail implies that these potential holograms behave like picture displays, but only for digital photos. I believe that Homura is basically using her walls as one big monitor in order to always be looking at her research. She is taking workaholic to the next level by covering every part of her home's interior with her research.

Walpurgisnacht has taken over her life so much that Homura eliminates all of her old distractions. The image above shows just how much Homura has changed after all of this time— Her home is distant and cold and empty...

The exact opposite of Mami's home, if you think about it. Both Mami and Homura live alone, but their interior homes are so vastly different from each other. Mami's interior is welcoming and cozy, mirroring her personality. However, the moment that we lose Mami is when the warm atmosphere of her home becomes sad... Almost bittersweet. Mami's home looks more normal, showing us that all Mami wants is to block away the loneliness with as much comfort as she can.

Let us take a brief look at Homura's old interior. As you can tell by the two connected images, Homura's old style is less bizarre-looking. You spot a desk, table, couch, and even a couple of framed paintings. But nothing really screams Homura. It shows that all she cares about is having what is necessary. Not only that, but it shows that Homura is easy to adapt to whatever she can find.

Darkness covers the entire room, perhaps to foreshadow Homura's descent.

The old interior gives off a gloomy atmosphere. It still, however, looks like a home. A lonely one, yes, but still something normal. It isn't anything special, but it still has something. The fate of Homura's interior in the later timelines lack personality, looking as detached as its owner. The future look of Homura's home looks more like a witch's labyrinth, not someone's home.

I do, however, believe that Homura has reconstructed her home with the help of magic and technology. The odd-looking flames on the candles (maybe even the slowly swinging pendulum) scream that they are formed by magic. Fans have also pointed out that Homura's room looks more like a clock, easily a reference to her time manipulation magic hiding in plain sight.

As seen in the original anime, covered in a purple aura-like light, Homura has the ability to control large objects with her magic. While this might be only for weapons, it still shows that Homura can use magic on physical objects. With this in mind, it could be possible for Homura to redecorate with her magic when her technology cannot do the trick.

Overall, I love the changes that we see in Homura's home. I am hoping to be able to see more of Homura's home in the upcoming movie, Walpurgisnacht Rising. I love seeing Madoka or Mami's homes, but I would love to see more of Homura's life.

It's interesting that Rebellion doesn't feature Homura's home, even though the witch behind that impressive labyrinth is actually Homura herself. The lack of a home really does show that Homura doesn't give a second thought about her home. Homura is anywhere but inside her empty home, even within her labyrinth...

It's almost a little sad, actually.

With that said, I hope to see more of Homura's home again!

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Library Magic (NSFW)

It's that time again! Today's release is a spicy one, and possibly one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Library Magic

Word Count: 3,300

Content and Warnings: snz (male), NSFW

In which Oraion accompanies his Mistress Noelle to study dusty, old arcane tomes at a library, with predictable results.

----------------------------

The Tigate Librarium had stood in the central square of Tigate City for so long, no one was certain anymore if the Librarium was named for the City, or the City for the Librarium. What was certain, however, was that the current Head Librarian, Ms Ogtrop, was both the most efficient and organized Head the Librarium had ever employed, and also its most terrifying.

At six foot three, it was uncommon, though not entirely unheard of, for Demon Lord Oraion Leroux to meet those of his height or slightly taller. Encountering a mortal he needed to crane his neck to look at, though, was about as common as convincing a lindwyrm to play fetch, so the fact that he needed to tilt his head a fair degree to make eye contact with the Head Librarian was a novel, if somewhat unnerving, experience. The green cast of her skin and short tusks jutting from her lower lip only added to the singularity of the encounter. A full-blooded orc was a rare sight these days.

“Those books are on the second floor, Section B, fifth row, third bookcase, shelves four through seven. All books in that Section are restricted, and as such can neither be checked out nor leave the Librarium. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, ma’am.”

“Good. And if you think for a moment that you could possibly get away with smuggling any volumes out… Don’t. I will know. I always know.”

Oraion did his best to appear as a physical manifestation of conciliation. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“Good.” The Librarian paused and took a moment to look Oraion up and down with her golden eyes. “My shift ends at eight o’clock, by the way.”

This, at least, was more familiar territory. Throughout his long life, Oraion had turned down countless hopefuls, though this time he had to admit he was tempted. The thighs that peeked out below the hem of Ogtrop’s skirt—the cut of which was painfully inadequate at fulfilling any sort of intended modesty on her towering frame—looked like they’d crack a watermelon like a walnut. A night with her promised to leave you with bruises and bite marks—and you’d thank her for the privilege. Instead Oraion inclined his head with grace.

“You flatter me, madam, but I am afraid I must decline. I am already spoken for.”

“Hm. Pity. However, your integrity is laudable. Well then, please note that eight o’clock is also when the Librarium closes, so you would do well to conclude your business before then.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Yes, yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

The imposing Librarian turned on her heel and marched off, her heavy footfalls reverberating through the floor with a rhythmic beat. Oraion’s gaze lingered just a moment on the way her full hips moved, then he returned to where his Mistress, Noelle Violette, waited by the entrance, wringing the end of her scarf.

“Were you able to find anything out?”

“I was indeed. The Head Librarian gave me the location of the arcane tomes you’re looking for—come, I’ll show you where they are.”

He guided Noelle to where Ms Ogtrop had indicated, passing along the rules for the handling of restricted books as they went.

“They can't be checked out? I suppose that makes sense, but… Augh, that means I'll only have a few hours to study them! I was hoping to take them back to the inn with us tonight and then bring them back before we leave to go home tomorrow…”

Oraion chuckled. “And did this plan of yours involve any sleep?”

A light blush of pink came to Noelle’s fair cheeks. “Well, some I’m sure, but this is a rare opportunity! I could always catch up on sleep later. Besides, that won’t matter if I can’t check them out. I’ll just have to use the time I do have wisely.”

Row after row of shelves were stuffed with a multitude of tomes. The air was laced with the scent of old paper and leather. Once they located the desired shelves, Noelle browsed through the volumes, pointing out a number of titles with great interest and enthusiasm.

“Oh! Look at this! They have a first edition copy of Nolan Kingston’s The Grimoire of Stars! And these scrolls—they’re from Tsothatan’s Noth-Yngath Esoterica! Just look at all of these: Artum Codex, Librum of Ninai, The Book of Far Realms— Oh my goodness, they have a copy of Tome of the Watcher! After it was published, the author Soth Sholei disappeared, and no one ever found out what happened to them!”

As she babbled excitedly about the texts, she handed book after book to Oraion until he was carrying a sizable, and somewhat heavy, stack. He couldn’t help but notice a thin layer of dust on most of them. Just the thought of it made his nose twitch. A smirk tugged his lips: perhaps this little study session wouldn’t be as boring as he’d feared.

“Mistress, I think perhaps this is enough to get started, at least. In fact, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to get through all of these before the Librarium closes.”

Noelle gave a little start, like she was waking up from a dream. “Oh! You’re right, I-I’m so sorry. Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

Nearby were long, oaken tables surrounded by a large number of stout chairs with plush seats, all of which were presently vacant. The entire section of the Librarium they were in appeared quite deserted. Oraion carefully placed the stack of books on the table and took a seat next to Noelle, pulling his chair against hers. There were no arm rests, so they were close enough to touch, especially if Oraion leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read a bit over your shoulder? There might be something I can help with, after all.”

“Oh, um, a-all right.”

He ducked his head so his lips were close to her ear and dropped his voice.

“Always nice to have one’s nose in a good book.” He brushed the tip of his nose against the outer edge of her ear for emphasis. He felt a shiver run through her.

“Oraion, I-I don’t think now is the time…”

“Oh, of course, Mistress. My apologies. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your studies. Shall we begin?”

He took the tome from the top of the stack and placed it on the table in front of them.

“The Book of Sorcery. A fairly straightforward title.”

He flipped open the dusty manuscript with a flourish and probably a bit more force than was strictly necessary. In the light of the arcane reading lamps that hovered above the table, little globes of light encased within intricate brass cages, he caught a shimmer of swirling dust particles. Things were bound to get interesting now.

“So, Mistress, what would you like to review?”

“Hm, let me check the table of contents.”

As his Mistress pored over the book’s pages, Oraion felt a feathery flutter ripple through his sinuses, making his nose scrunch slightly. He said nothing, of course, but kept an eye on Noelle’s reaction. She hadn’t noticed yet, so he ran a finger beneath his septum and drew in a quick, sharp sniffle. Noelle’s leg against his own went tense for a second—she was definitely paying attention now. Oraion tried not to let his satisfaction show on his countenance.

“Um, m-maybe this section on conjuration? I would really, uh, like to know more about how you’re able to conjure things, you know, so easily.”

“Ah, you mean like this?” With a grin he held up his left hand and snapped his fingers, summoning his handkerchief. After all, he was going to need it shortly.

“Y-yes, like that.” Oraion noticed that Noelle’s gaze flicked from the cloth in his hand to his face, and back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was looking for in his face. As that feathery feeling intensified, he was certain his nose would be flushing pink soon, if it hadn’t started already.

“Well, the truth is -snf- that I don’t actually, ah, c-conjure anything. -sniff- I merely summoned it. I—” It was growing difficult to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were beginning to water as his eyelids fluttered. Still, he could quite clearly see the pretty blush forming beneath Noelle’s freckles on her cheeks, along with the blossoming arousal he sensed within her. She squirmed in her seat.

“O-Oraion…”

“Oh dear, h-how terribly inconvenient. -sndf- These old b-books: they muh-must be du- heh- dusty…”

Below the table, he ran his right hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh while at the same time he pressed the handkerchief to his nose.

“ih-hiih- … hiihh! hiiHH’ISSHIUU!”

Through his hand on her leg he could feel the little jolt of pleasure and excitement she felt. He didn’t often get the chance to tease her in public like this. It made her titillation all the sweeter, the tinge of embarrassment she felt. She might not openly admit it, might even outright deny it or grow annoyed with him, but she could not hide from him that it got her even hotter.

“Oraion! S-stop that!”

“Y-you know I can’t heh-help it, Mistress. It’s the- the- eh-heh-heh! mmnh- the dust- HEHHSHIU!”

Noelle looked around nervously.

“B-but, you’re being loud! We’re in a library!”

He leaned in and nuzzled her earlobe, even as he felt another buzzing prickle building.

“Afraid we might gehehht in t-trouble? -snnff- hehh-hehhehh!”

“Y-yes!”

Oh, but she tasted so sweet like this. Gods, he would fuck her right here on the table if she wanted, library rules and propriety be damned. She would never go for that, of course, but that didn’t stop him from imagining it. Just how wound up could he get her, he wondered? He attempted the herculean task of holding back the itch that burned in his sinuses.

“B-but Mistress, you know heh-HEH! nngh- h-how teh-terribly ah-haahhllergic I am to du-dust. I ca-can’t hehhehhelp how sne- sne- sneezy it meh-makes me…”

He kept his nose touching her ear as his nares flared, letting her feel every twitch. As he did so, he slid his hand further up her thigh, pressing his fingers between her legs. He couldn’t last much longer, and if he had anything to say about it, neither would she.

“Th-the m-more I heh-heh! hold bahaahck, the w-worse it g-gets!” He gave a particularly wet sniffle right next to her ear. “Oh no- I-I’m guh- gonna- ehh-heh! M-Mistress, I n-need to sneeze!”

Certain he was about to incur the wrath of Ms Ogtrop, Oraion could not stop his chest from heaving as his nose crinkled.

“hiihhhIIHHhhh!”

With a little sound of desperation Noelle leapt up and grabbed his head, shoving his face directly into her chest and holding him there by hugging him with both arms. The fabric of her blouse pressed against his face, with his nose squeezed directly between her soft breasts. His hands found her hips, and he grabbed hold as the tickle overtook him.

“hhhchhfff! hh-isshhh! nnn… hhih- hii-hhssshhiuh! aeshhiu! … eh! … heh! … hehh-CHSSHT! CHSSHT! HISSHHHTT!”

What would have normally been a powerful and vocal fit was instead muffled and subdued as Noelle wrestled it into submission with the luscious mounds of her chest. Once Oraion’s sneezing subsided, she relented and loosened her death grip on his head, allowing him to at last come up for air. He looked up at her standing over him as he sat back, sniffling wetly. Her entire face was flushed a lovely bright scarlet—a color he was perhaps a bit partial to. His gaze dropped back to her blouse, where he found he’d made a rather wet spot between her breasts. He summoned an apologetic look as his gaze rose back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

To be fair, the books truly were dusty. It would have gotten to him at some point anyhow, so why not help it along and get it over with? Still, Oraion supposed he had earned the scolding he was no doubt about to receive.

It took him rather by surprise, then, when Noelle instead grabbed his chin and forced her tongue into his mouth. He was quick to adapt, of course, sucking on her tongue and chasing it with his own when she pulled it back. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her towards him until she was straddling his lap. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck as she continued to kiss him hungrily, sucking on and biting his lips and tongue. The lust that burned within her intoxicated him and stoked his Hunger.

He supported her back with one hand while the other loosened the catch of her leather leggings and slipped inside. She was warm and wet and waiting for his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her. The feel of her became his entirety: the way she enfolded his fingers, the slick sweetness of her tongue in his mouth, the building pleasure that flowed into him more and more.

Noelle brushed the tip of his nose with her own, sending a ticklish wave through his sinuses.

“C-careful -snf- it’s still pretty sensitive…”

“Oh dear,” she murmured as she nuzzled him again, “how terribly inconvenient.”

Even as his breath caught she kissed him. The buzzing prickle spread, making it hard to concentrate, but his fingers did not stop their rhythmic stroking.

“M-Mistress, I… I n-need to- heh-HEH!”

It wouldn’t take much to send either of them over the edge. Oraion could hardly keep his eyes open, and he felt more than saw Noelle’s fingertip gently tease his irritated nares.

“W-wait- Y-you’re guh-gonna m-make me- ih-hihh-HIHH!”

Her hand still behind his neck twined into his hair and shoved his face down into her cleavage.

“hiihh-CHHWFF!”

Once more his sneeze was muffled by the supple flesh of her breasts, and in that moment her pleasure poured into him like a river breaking through a dam. It washed over him in waves, and he let himself drown in it as her hips bucked over his lap. Her pleasure became his own, no telling where one ended and the other began. Each held onto the other for dear life, Noelle clutching Oraion to her chest as he hugged her to himself with his arm around her back.

As they both came down from their shared euphoria, Oraion realized he was biting Noelle’s breast through her shirt. He did not remember making the conscious decision to do so, but she didn't seem to mind. He let go and looked up at her. She was taking her hand out of her mouth—she had bitten the side of a forefinger to keep herself quiet in the stillness of the Librarium.

He kept his eyes on her face as he slowly pulled out of her. The sweet expression she made and the little sigh that escaped her were the perfect dessert to his delicious meal. She opened her soft brown eyes, her cheeks still flushed and rosy, and she leaned in to kiss him once more. He nipped at her lower lip with a sly grin.

“Still afraid we're going to get in trouble?”

“Yes, but now I care less.”

Her lips touched his even as she giggled, a sound that twisted her ever deeper into his heart. Falling for her was a terrible idea, he knew that, but moments like this, the happiness she gave him, made him powerless to resist her gravity. No one made him feel this way, not since his first love, so long past that it may as well have been in another world entirely.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke them from the hold of the afterglow, and Noelle hurried back into her own seat as she adjusted her clothing. She flipped open the pages of the book and leaned over them like she’d been studying them all along, though her face was still quite red. Oraion found his handkerchief had fallen on the floor at some point, and he quickly scooped it up and wiped off his fingers.

The hulking form of the Head Librarian strode into view, carrying a library cart in her hands. Oraion imagined her leaning over to push it normally, and he got a pretty good idea of why she preferred to carry it. She placed the cart down and filed away a few volumes on a nearby shelf. Oraion heard Noelle breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"Everything all right over here? I thought I heard some sort of commotion, and you’re looking rather flushed, Miss."

“U-um.” Noelle’s voice came out in a terrified squeak, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Thinking quickly, Oraion lifted his handkerchief to his nose as though he were wiping it, but instead he gave his nostrils a quick tease.

“S-sorry, it’s my fault, I- I- hih- ih-hihh! HIIHTCHHiuh!” He managed to muffle the sneeze by pressing the cloth firmly over his nose, which he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of how it had sounded into Noelle’s shirt. “Nguh -snnff- Sorry, my a-allergies are acting up, and- heh! heh-CHHFF! -snf- I’m afraid I’ve rather embarrassed her with the noise. -sdnf- This is a library, after all.”

The orcish librarian narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. Just keep it down, and do not disturb the other patrons, please.”

“I-I’ll do my best, ma’am… hhihghshh!”

Appearing satisfied, Ogtrop picked up her cart and moved on. Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, Oraion couldn’t help but laugh, smothering the sound behind a hand. Noelle playfully smacked his arm.

“I don’t see what’s so funny! We could have gotten into so much trouble!”

Though her words chastised him, a thread of laughter wove through her voice as well.

“You’re the one who jumped me!”

“Oh, and you didn’t stir up all that dust on purpose?”

“You know it would have happened sooner or later! Now, do you want to keep bickering and draw Ms Ogtrop’s attention again, or do you actually want to study these arcane tomes?”

“Fine, but this is not over!” She went back to the table of contents and found the page she had initially wanted to review. “Now, I believe we were going to talk about the use of conjuration before we were, ahem, interrupted. Weren’t you saying that you don’t actually use conjuration?”

Oraion grinned and placed his arm across the back of Noelle’s chair as they both leaned over the text. “Yes, that’s right. You see, conjuration is the art of creating something from nothing. Were that true, then the handkerchief wouldn’t exist before it appeared in my hand. I would literally be creating it from magic. What I do is a form of summoning…”

While Oraion continued his explanation, Ms Gwendolyn Ogtrop, Head Librarian of the Tigate Librarium, continued her work of filing away the book returns in Section D. She heaved a sigh and tried not to let her envy weigh too heavily on her mind. Men of that caliber were rare enough, but the fact that this one had adorable sneezes too? That human girl didn’t know what a treasure she had. Although, with how red her face was, perhaps she did…

Ogtrop tried to push it from her mind as she tucked another book away. Someday the perfect man for her would walk through that Librarium door. She would whisk him off his feet and into a whirlwind romance, instead of just another link in a lengthy chain of one night stands. Someday happily ever after would happen for her, too.

At least, she could hope.