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snapnov4 · 7 months

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i was made for lovin' you, baby!

synopsis: jjk men falling in love with you

wc: 1.7k

a/n: vela returns from a victorious (not intended) year long hiatus and very solemnly offers you the headcanons she's been desperately cooking up for way too long, enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog!

✰ kento doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's making the two of you dinner. you're sprawled out on his couch, talking about your recent mission. the two of you aren't even dating. you just end up together at the end of every day. it all feels so intimate. as he listens to you talk, he notices he’s picking out the parts you don't like, setting them to the side. he remembers when he was a kid, and his mother told him food was a labor of love. he recalls that bakery he used to frequent when he was still working a regular job, how the smell of the bread and sweets was comforting, and how the girl who worked at the counter always had a fresh loaf for him. as he's sitting across from you at his dinner table that’s only big enough for two, he feels like his world is shifting on his axis a bit.

kento’s always enjoyed listening to you talk; much to gojo’s dismay, you're the only person nanami could listen to for hours. you're talking so vibrantly, moving your hands to illustrate actions, and he feels terrible about the fact that he can't hear anything you're saying. instead, he's thinking of the lunches you bring for him, the way your pinky touches his ever so slightly, like some silly school kids. he thinks of how you rest your head on his shoulder when you're stuck on a long commute from a mission; he thinks of your shoes by his at the door, a spare coat on his rack, an extra cursed tool in his closet. he thinks of your easy smiles and lively laughs. he thinks of how you easily fall against him no matter how you feel, whether it be a fit of uncontrollable laughter or a collapse after a long day. you're not dating; no one even thinks you're dating, but nanami’s heart practically swells when you seek him out through the day, placing a hand over his paperwork and telling him to take a break. he thinks of how you always kiss him on the cheek when you leave and always remember to text him that you've gotten home safely. if you're not so tired that you're sprawled on his couch with a blanket he's saved for you. he thinks about how, if he stayed working that awful job, he'd never have this, never have you, in your own unique way. he wasn't sure why he kept being a sorcerer; he just presumed that he’d work until he died. however, sitting across from you, talking animatedly about some shenanigan yuuji has wrapped you into, he feels content. it's almost like this could mean something; maybe his life is truly just a cycle, all leading to an uneventful death, but with you by his side, he thinks, it feels worth it.

✰ toji is not in love with you, or at least that's what he says. however, he realizes he may be that fond of you on a quiet evening. toji never expected to find himself so soft and domestic. he'd liked you because of your take-no-shit attitude; when he met you in some dark bar some months ago, watching you turn down every suitor who came your way, he accepted the challenge. he'd find you at least once a week, always in the same spot, and he's the only guy you let buy you drinks, the only one allowed to sling an arm around your shoulders. you made him wait for it. but now, months later, you let him wrap his arms around you without a word, and you're so quiet and calm, completely and utterly relaxed, and it's so good. toji’s hands are far from clean, he's far from the kind of upstanding guy he thinks you truly deserve, but you lay in his arms so easily, as if you couldn't care less what he's done. you drag your finger across his scars. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth without recoiling at the feeling of scar tissue. you're almost too good to be true. he thinks of all the times you've patched him up, brows knitted in careful concentration, telling him, “this might sting,” even though he'd walked in practically unaffected by the injury in the first place. the way you forced him to tell you what he did for a living, and even though he didn't spare the gritty details, you still seemed not to care, as long as he was coming back safe. he's come to expect you to be standing at the door, sitting at the table, or lying on the couch when he gets home. right now, you're lying in his arms, completely unaware of just how much he loves you and loves this. your hand is in his, silently twiddling with his fingers as your eyes focus on whatever movie or tv show you've taken an interest in now. he decides he’ll leave it all behind for you. all of it. when he finishes this next job, he’ll buy a ring. then he’ll get a regular job, and finally, he’ll be happy.

✰ satoru realizes he's in love with you on a seemingly ordinary day. he's finished work for the day, or rather, for the last two days. he hasn't slept in three, and his head is starting to kill him, even with his reversed cursed technique. right now, he only wants to get home, eat something sweet, and collapse in bed. when he walks into his usually quiet and organized apartment, he realizes quite a few things. there's a bag of that mochi from that place in sendai that he loves, and a note beside it reads, “the kids and i picked these up for you!” he recognizes your handwriting, messily scrawled as if you were in a hurry. next, he notices that every blanket (except for his, he silently hopes) is spread across the floor in the living room, nestled in what seems like the coziest pile ever is you and the kids. megumi is on your left, and tsumiki is on your right. the three of you are sleeping so soundly that he almost wants to kill every higher-up for pulling him away from you, from this, from his family. as he looks at you nestled between megumi and tsumiki, he realizes that's exactly where he wants you to be.

the three of you have been knocked out for a while; your limbs tangled and blankets moved. after showering quickly, he finds out that his blanket was not exempt from the fort, but he doesn't even mind as he makes his way back to the living room, scooting in next to a sleeping megumi, and he watches for a bit. studies the way your chest rises and falls, the way you so easily let the kids relax against you, the way your mouth hangs open so hilariously that he wishes he'd snapped a photo while he was still up. he feels his heart swell immensely when he finally does lay down, and megumi nestles his face into his shoulder, and you feeling the sudden movement, throw your arm across him. satoru never thought he could feel this soft. the privilege of meaning something to you, to these kids, is better than any sorcerer grade, any title, anything. when he settles down, his arm so long he can reach all the way over the three of you. he recognizes the sock you're wearing. it's black and probably way too expensive; if he squints a bit, he can almost see the custom embroidered “GS” on every piece of clothing he owns (clan habits die hard). he can't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face. of course, you love him; you're wearing one of his socks.

✰ suguru isn't the kind of guy to be surprised by his own feelings. at least before you, he wasn't. however, he finds you surprise him every day; every little habit of yours implants itself in his brain. he could spend hours just watching you do the most mundane tasks, but when he truly realizes he's in love with you, it’s early one morning. he's sitting on his bed, watching you get ready at the vanity he bought just for you, half of it your makeup and the other half various products he puts in his hair. he feels infatuated with you. your entire routine is done with so much care and attention that he can't help it. he's been watching you get ready every morning for the better part of two months. but what really gets him is the way you've changed your routine to involve him. a small kiss to his lips every morning, setting your alarm earlier so you really can stay in bed for “five more minutes,” drinking your coffee at home because he makes it the best. always asking him, which shirt looks better? what color should I wear? rattling off all your daily tasks, turning to see suguru holding your keys, or your wallet, or your umbrella right as you begin to ask where it is. and most recently, indulging him by picking a vanity, after you complained about being tired of doing your makeup standing up in his bathroom and how the drawer you've been keeping your products in was starting to overflow. geto’s obsessed with watching you do your makeup, sitting behind you on the bed, quietly admiring the way your hand moves in practiced steady strokes. he loves the way you silently curse if you mess up your wing, he loves the way you still suck your cheeks in to do your blush, he loves the way you sit in front of the mirror silently debating on wearing your hair up or down or maybe a mix of both. he loves how you apply lip gloss, the last step of your routine. always the last step, because the goodbye kiss at the front door leaves more of it on him than on you. he watches with a soft smile and sticky lips as you reapply your gloss in the mirror in the entryway, smiling when you catch his eye in the mirror. laughs at the way you roll your eyes but don't stop him from pulling you back in the doorway, kissing you again because he “already misses you,” so finally, you add reapplying your lip gloss in the car to your morning routine, while suguru adds loving you to his, but that was already there, wasn't it?

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dollfacefantasy · 9 months

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Video Games

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral (f receiving)

summary: you're playing video games when leon feels a little needy

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hi everyone, i'm back with another piece. thank you so so much to everyone who supported my last post (especially if you reblogged and/or left a comment, hugging you through the screen rn). And if you followed me, hi! happy to have you here :) it means a lot to me, and i hope people find some enjoyment in this post as well. this post has nothing to do with the song video games, but i love lana and wanted to use that picture so idgaf. also, all the games mentioned are ones i really loved when i was younger. i'd love to hear some you guys like if you want to share. again, feedback, likes, follows, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You were so excited when your parents called you and told you they were bringing by your old Playstation 2 today. They were cleaning out the garage and found the dusty, old box that contained the system and all your favorite games from when you were young. Leon was sitting on the couch, watching you wander around as you spoke into the phone. He had returned from a difficult mission recently and your joyful presence alone made everything seem brighter. He smiled at the ways your eyes lit up when you laughed and recalled old memories. He’d gently reach out and stroke your hip when you’d walk past the sofa, lost in your conversation.

About an hour later, you were rushing out the front door to retrieve your box of nostalgia. Leon trailed behind with his eyes full of love for you. He takes the box of stuff as you briefly talk to your mom and thank her for making the stop. He carries the box back into the house for you. It wasn’t that heavy. You definitely could have done it yourself, but he couldn’t get enough of how that sweet smile would spread across your face when you said thank you and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

The two of you set up the console together in your living room. His strong arms hold the tv at an awkward angle as you snake behind it to plug in the cords in all the different ports. His eyes can’t help but run along your body. He can’t help but notice how your shorts ride up as you bend over or how your back arches while you strain to reach the back of the screen. He’s snapped out of his lustful daze when he hears you say “Got it!” and pull back from behind the tv. He puts the monitor back in place and you hug him from behind, pressing soft kisses to his back while thanking him again for his help.

“It’s nothing, Baby,” he says softly, turning to face you and kissing the top of your head.

You smile up at him before eagerly pulling him to sit on the couch with you. You rifle through your box of old games, pulling out your beaten-up copies of Sly Cooper and Silent Hill. Your eyes sparkle with excitement as you gush to him about your favorite parts and all the fun you used to have playing them with your friends. His heart aches with the love he feels just from hearing you speak with such passion.

“Why don’t you show me some?” he suggests as you continue looking through the box on your lap.

“You want to watch me play video games?” you ask as if it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be bored.”

He laughs slightly like even the idea of being bored while spending time with you was ridiculous. “C’mon, you’re all excited over this stuff, and you’re not gonna play?” he asks, “I’ll be fine. Maybe you can teach me your tricks.”

“Yeah, I’m a real pro,” you joke sarcastically, but your smile remains genuine. You decide on playing Tomb Raider and hop up to put the game in. Again, Leon can’t help how his eyes are drawn to the fabric of your bottoms tightening around your ass as you squat to insert the game. You return to your seat and get comfy against his side with his arms around your shoulder.

You start playing, your smile widening as you hear the familiar music and begin remembering the controls like the last time you played was only yesterday. Leon watches the screen as much as he can, but his real focus is on you. The way your fingers frantically mash at the buttons while fighting an enemy, how you tense and press against him when you think you’re going to die, your half-assed justifications for mistakes you make, blaming the age of the controllers. He loved you so much that his limbs nearly trembled with want for you. Everything about you drove him wild. You smelled so good and your body was so warm nestled against his.

He keeps watching you, and it’s becoming overwhelming, his desire for you. He leans his head down, brushing your hair away, and starts gently kissing the open expanse of your neck. You bite your lip as a knowing smirk rises on your face.

“I knew you’d get bored,” you tease, tilting your head a little to give him more room. He takes the invitation and moves his lips with more intent.

“I’m not bored. I just need to feel you,” he defends between kisses, “You keep playing.” He adjusts on the couch so he’s lower and has a better angle on your neck. His arm that isn’t around you caresses your stomach slowly.

You try to focus on your game, but it’s difficult when you have his hands and lips coasting over you, his hot breath on your neck. Your own breathing hitches when his hand on your stomach slides up to fondle your tits. Your fingers start feeling useless on the controller, fumbling between buttons as you try to continue playing. His teeth scrape along your neck. It’s the last thing you can take before you make too many mistakes and die. The menu comes up to reload the game and your head falls back against the cushion.

“Leon,” you whine playfully, “You’re making me die.”

“‘M Sorry, Baby,” he mumbles, “Just can’t get enough of you.” He continues kneading your breasts and showering your neck with kisses as you try to survive the level you’re playing. Heat spreads through your body and slick begins collecting between your thighs causing you to squirm a bit. Leon smirks against your skin, sensing the effect he has on you.

He kisses your neck a few more times before he moves his mouth down your arm while easing himself onto the floor. He presses a final tender kiss to your hand gripping the controller before settling on his knees between your legs. You know what’s coming, and it causes your cheeks to tint a soft red. The sight only excites Leon more. His fingers tuck beneath the waistband of your shorts and slip them down. He lifts your lush thighs to rest on his shoulders and pulls you closer so that you're slouching against the cushions.

“Leon, I’m gonna have to start all over again,” you say, your voice softer from your arousal. You try to seem focused, but your attention to the game is waning with each of his touches.

He works his mouth along the smooth skin of your inner thighs before dragging his nose along the cloth covering your center, inhaling you. The scent sends his blood rushing to his cock. He lays a kiss to the fabric as he hums in response. “I’ll make it up to you, Sweetheart. Promise.”

He hooks his finger around your panties and pulls them off. You feel his breath against your wet cunt, the sensation sending a chill through you. You take your lip between your teeth again while keeping your eyes on the television. In your peripheral vision, you can see him staring into you, gazing at you like you’re a work of art. He starts rubbing his thumb up and down your folds slowly, not with enough pressure to give you real pleasure, just the right amount to tease.

“You’re fucking soaked, Angel. Gotta have a taste,” he murmurs before swiping his tongue through your pussy. You let out a short moan at the feeling. Leon wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he starts to make out with your cunt. His tongue flattening and dragging against your dripping core, lapping up every drop of you he can.

Your eyes roll back and your fingers spasm on the controller before you put it to the side and grab Leon’s hair. He groans as you tug him closer, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. You whimper and buck against his face. He knows all your attention is on him now. Knowing he made you feel so good that you had to focus on him had his pants feeling even tighter. He looks up at you, his eyes clouded with lust and your slick coating his lips.

“Taste so sweet, Baby,” he breathes, thumbing your clit as he speaks, “Could do this for hours if you let me. Have your pretty pussy cumming over and over.”

He buries his face back into your cunt and fucks his tongue into you. You gasp and writhe above him. Your head pushes back against the couch cushions. Your thighs start to squeeze around his head, and he loves it. He pushes even deeper, nose bumping your clit as he works. You whine and your hands fly up to cover your face as your cheeks feel hot.

He gives your thigh a quick pinch and pulls back. “No hiding, sweet girl. Wanna see and hear everything you give me.”

You slide your hands down and off of your face. Before you can even think of a response, his tongue is back to flicking against you. You moan a bit louder and your eyes flutter as the band of heat in your belly starts to tighten. Your thighs quiver, and Leon’s grip on you gets stronger as your hips try to shift.

Your chest heaves with your heavy breathing as your hands press into the couch cushions. His eyes are fixed on your face, savoring every sweet noise and expression. Your body shakes harder and you know the finish is near. You look down into his eyes, and the sight of his face buried between your thighs with that intense gaze trained on you almost makes you cum on the spot.

“Fuck, Leon. I’m gonna cum. Can’t hold on,” you whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as your voice breaks into moans.

“Look at me, Baby. Let me see those gorgeous eyes while you explode,” he says before working his tongue with even more dedication. You give him what he wants, looking into his eyes as you reach the peak. You cry out and claw at the couch cushions as you release. Your hips sputter against his face and your thighs clamp around his head. Your eyes stay locked on his, letting him see how he unravels you. You hear him groaning and feel his body rolling a bit as he devours you through your orgasm.

He keeps lapping at your folds as you come down, getting a final taste before he pulls away. He plants one last kiss on your clit before rising up and leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You kiss back and softly moan as you taste yourself on his lips. You grab his wrist as you pull back. “Need me to return the favor?’ you say and give him another kiss.

“No, Honey. I’m satisfied, trust me,” he hums and kisses back. You notice the dark spot forming on his pants and your blush returns. The thought that he could feel such pleasure simply from pleasuring you made your stomach flutter. He pulls back from your lips and strokes your bottom lip with his thumb, admiring your features. “I’m gonna change my pants, and then you can show me some more of your game. If you want to,” he says.

You glance back at the tv which had been displaying the reload menu for a while at this point. You give him that smile that he loved so much and nod.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut

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zuureleena · 8 months

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i now present to you!!! NOCOVEMBER 2023

i decided to give you guys two options for each week this year and i wanted them to correlate to one another in some shape or form + an extra month to work on it!

the rules are simple!

⋆ use #NocoVember2023 and tag me when you post your art/story (i wanna see it so badly u guys 🥲🫶)

⋆ comment/reblog saying that you'll be joining and tag 3 people who you think might be interested (it is totally okay to still be unsure and not participate in the end okayyy :D)

⋆ you can pick one theme, both, or mash them together for each week! the choice is yours, and you don't even have to do all of 'em

⋆ feel free to post your work at any point in november (or if you want to do it a month earlier or later, it's up to you :0)

⋆ for the angst and older prompt, please don't do anything nsfw related. i'm asking you to not draw/write smut, but if you want to do something gory for the angst prompt, always put a proper warning!

⋆ remember to have fun, never hesitate to ask me questions, and don't feel pressured to join <3

each prompt is explained under the cut

Week 1 - Sun & Moon / Cat & Dog

these can either be taken literally (as in you make them into for eg; noah, a black cat, and cody, a golden retriever) or metaphorically (noah has moon energy so you include things that symbolize that, and same goes for cody with his sun energy)

Week 2 - Monsters / Angst

you can turn them both or one of them into (a) monster(s)! this could be tethered to the angst genre or you could make a completely different angsty scenario between the two of them

Week 3 - Older / Childhood Friends

they can either be in university, full-grown adults, or heck! even elderly men 😭 so how do they look now? what's changed in their lives and in their relationship? do they still keep in touch or have they strayed away from each other? who knows! it's all up to you

as for childhood friends? they could be toddlers like on dramarama, maybe prepebusecent teens? just make sure they are younger than they are on the show (aka 16)

Week 4 - Canon Divergence / Reality TV Duo

i wanna see you put these two nerds in a completely different reality tv genre! it could be a cooking competition, something like wipeout or love island, a quizz show! anything as long as it isn't total drama.

unless,,, you do want them to be a duo in TD then you could make a canon divergence situation where these two are the ones participating in ridonculous race, or write/draw them in a scenario that's based off any scene in total drama (one that either has them or has nothing to do with them whatsoever) and twist it in a way that makes Noah and Cody's relationship the main focus

PLEASE GO ABSOLUTELY WILD WITH YOUR CREATIVITY!!! I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE IT :D

#td #tdi #td noah #td cody #noco #noah x cody #cody x noah #td noco #total drama #total drama island #nocovember #nocovember2023 #art challenge #art prompt #fic prompt #writing prompt #total drama noah #total drama cody

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msgexymunson · 1 year

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Rumour Part 6: Rite

Description: Significant changes are happening, what with you moving in with Eddie, and his band taking off. But, are you both headed in the same direction?

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI you should know that by this point, Tiny angst, hella fluff, major smut, sub!fem!reader x dom!older!Eddie, spanking, slight anal play, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks!) established relationship

A/N: This was a challenge, I really hope I've given them a good send off. Thank you to everyone who has supported me, I'm really going through it right now so this was hard, but worth it! I hope you enjoy this Eddie as much as I do. Comments and reblogs are integral to my well being at this point, please let me know if you liked it! ❤️

7.7k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Wiping at the sweat beads gathering on your forehead, you gaze around the new room. The apartment smells wrong, like past people's lives. The hardwood floors creak under your feet as you move to collect the last of the boxes, sound echoing delicately through the high ceilinged space, along with the tinny noise of the portable radio playing some generic rock song.

This is the biggest place you've ever lived in. The apartment was truly breath taking, such massive windows, an awe-inspiring view that took you by surprise each time; as well as a huge bathroom, and even a spare room for guests. Humming along to the radio, you stride towards the front door at the same time that Eddie walks right through it.

"Leaving already?" He laughs, hauling two boxes under each straining arm.

"I was going to get the last of it." You tilt your head at him, watching how his arms flex under the tension.

"Well, this is the last of it. Come and get it, pretty girl."

You smile and move to help him unload. The rock radio station suddenly changes tracks to an old Kiss record.

Eddie smiles, and starts singing along, reaching towards you, dragging you into a reluctant dance.

"I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me" he sings intentionally off key forcing a giggle out of you as he twirls you around.

"Oh God, this song is so old!" Rolling your eyes you attempt to extricate yourself from his grip.

"So? So am I. I remember when this came out, fuck." He looks almost distressed at that fact for a moment, before he recovers, spinning you on the spot and pulling you in flush to his chest.

"So, roomie, what now?" You laugh, batting your eyelashes at his behaviour.

Watching his face, you see his eyebrow raise, eyes squinting as in deep thought.

"Now? Now I take the moving van back. Then after that, well, we have sex in every room. Obviously. It's tradition." Nodding sagely, he states it like it's a well known fact.

"Tradition, huh? Since when?" You smirk back at him.

"Well, these things have to start somewhere, right?" He winks at you, pulling you even closer so he can mouth at your neck.

"Don't, I'm all sweaty!" You giggle, his lips and tongue brushing over your glowing skin.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Flushing, you push futilely at his face, attempting to move it away from you.

"Pervert."

"We're moving in together, and you've only just realised that? That's on you, sweet thing." Searching for that sweet spot between your neck and shoulder he locates it with ease, biting down hard.

"Oh Fuck, Eddie!" Fingers crunching uncomfortably into his hard biceps you bend your neck, uncontrollably twisting right into his spit slicked grip.

"Yeah? Maybe I should take the van back a little later, huh?" His fingertips flirt with the waistband of your shorts, firm digits pressing into the soft flesh of your tummy. His strokes are soft and measured, mouth moving to nip into the tops of your breasts.

"Eddie…" you try to say in a sing-song, warning manner; but, your voice comes out in a pathetic drawl, whining and needy.

"You want me to stop? Just tell me, pretty girl." He says as he pulls your shorts and underwear down in one swift movement, leaving you bare, exposed to the air and his ministrations.

"Oh Eddie" you breathe out, voice barely whispering, drunk on the mere thought of his touch.

"That ain't a no" he chuckles, roughly pulling his sweatpants down. The hardness of his pierced length presses into your begging cunt, the dripping slick of your anticipation just pleading for his well endowed shaft.

"Baby? Really?" You nearly giggle at his eagerness. That is, until he grasps you by the hips and presses your back against the wall.

"Yes. Really." Rubbing his pierced dick through your folds to gather your slick, he spits down at where you both meet to aid the process, that act alone having you gasping breathily, biting your lip at the lewdness of his actions.

Without another thought he's pushing into you, splitting you open with his imposing cock. You swear you can feel the steel balls of his piercing rubbing against your G spot. Eyes rolling back, you grasp at his arms, legs flailing helplessly in the air as you're suspended in the air by him, as helpless as a rag doll.

"Oh my God, Eddie, fuck." You salivate at the enormous stretch, cunt clenching around his girthy member. He has you pressed against the wall, back solid against the plasterboard and brick.

Hoisting your legs around his waist, you lock him in place deep seated inside of you, your hands woven and tangled with the messy bun his hair is loosely tied up in.

Foreheads touching, you can't help but feel a swell of relief blossoming in your chest at the feel of him filling you entirely.

"You drive me crazy, pretty girl. I just need you, all the time." He huffs a gruff laugh, clinging to your hips.

"I know, this just feels right" you breathe out, planting a soft feather kiss to his nose.

Keeping your back firmly forced against the wall he thrusts into you, pushing you upwards with every stroke. Panting, your heat envelops him, hands grasping his hair desperately, unable to meet his thrusts like this. You're his to use.

"Oh my God!" You moan brazenly, fingertips pressing minute bruises into his shoulders as you feel yourself being pushed to the apex of your concupiscence.

"Yeah? Fuck, you take me so well, such a good fuckin' girl." His drives into you increase, grunting with effort, large inked hands grasping you intensely; you, the object of his desires.

Burning for him, the throb between your legs mounts and mounts, threatening to burst primitively through your nerves.

"Oh Eddie, please," your tongue hangs out of your mouth uncontrollably, tongue stud glinting in the light. Eddie wraps your tongue in his own, rippling around it, licking into the soft heat of your mouth.

Gasping hotly, soft whimpers masked by his lips, Eddie's presence overwhelms you, clambering into your very soul; warm provocative want disbursing throughout you.

Wanton moans reach a crescendo when he pushes you over that precipice with his firm strokes. Your release antagonises every limb, forcing the true magnitude of your pleasure out through your very veins and beyond, the universe having to deal with being saturated with your violent delights.

Coming down, your cunt quivering, you feel his thrusts get harder and more erratic as he spews filth into your ear, hot breath dancing over your skin making you gasp and shiver.

"Fuck, my filthy angel, letting me use this pretty pussy, you drive me fuckin' crazy, with this tight wet cunt of yours, oh fuck!"

With a long, drawn out groan. After a moment, in between panting breaths, you manage to struggle out, "you're feral, Mr Munson."

Eddie laughs deep in his chest, you feel it vibrate through you.

"Only for you, sweet thing."

"I fucking love you baby" You say, lips dressing kisses to his jaw and throat.

"I love you too, sweets." His hands massage into the fat of your hips, lips peppering saccharine kisses to your salty skin.

********************

Nearly three weeks later and you're shoving whatever boxes that couldn't be unpacked on time into the muddle dump of the spare room, the panic of other people being in your space truly settling in.

You hardly feel to blame, you were only given three weeks grace from moving in, to having a party. It was not only your moving in party, but also Eddie's birthday on the 30th, and Halloween on the 31st. The trifecta was a little difficult to ignore.

Striding into the living room littered with black balloons, you move with purpose over to Eddie's weight bench, stifling a whimper at the sight that greeted you.

"Eddie, is that enough decorations… Jesus Christ."

You stop. And stare.

It's been a learning curve, moving in with Eddie. Sometimes, it feels as normal as breathing. On other occasions, he makes your mouth turn dry and your thighs clench and he doesn't even realise what effect he's had on you. This is one of those times.

Eddie's on his weight bench, shirtless, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. He positively gleams in the light, muscles and tattoos catching shimmers of light; bending and twisting the glow straight back into your star struck eyes.

It looks like a serious amount of weight he's benching; his torso is drenched in sweat. As he pushes the bar into the clips, he cocks his head and winks at you.

Mouth gaping like a fish, all you can do is watch that self satisfied smirk smooth across those lips like a warm balm.

"Hanging in there sweets?" He winks at you, shattering through your nerves like a freighter.

"I- er, yeah. Just wanted to uh, know, er, if the decorations are ok?" you say, indicating the all black décor.

Your own humming and stammering force your cheeks to blossom into an embarrassed glaze, eyes seeking submission, looking down and away.

"Looks incredible, sweet thing. Are you ok?" He frowns, genuine concern coating his consternation.

You glance back to grasp his eye contact, trying in desperation to avoid gaping at his toned sweaty form.

"I'm fine, just a little nervous you know?" Shrugging it off, you move to turn away, but Eddie's already grasped you firmly, fingertips biting into your upper arm.

"Are you sure? You know, we don't have to have a party if you don't want to."

The furrowed brow, the frown, the grip he has on you; you almost want to cry from the sheer concern to your feelings.

"It's fine baby, I'm ok, just a little nervous."

"You'll be great. You'll knock them dead. Hell, I'm sure everyone will like you more than me by the end of the night." His warm smile and coaxing strokes help to ground you.

"Thank you. I'm gonna get ready, ok? Have you got everything you need so you can change?"

"Yeah I think so, sweets. I put it all in the bathroom. Can I see yours when you're ready?"

You giggle and shrug your shoulders.

"Maybe? It's a surprise."

"Oh I see. Well, I'm sure it'll be hot. Can't wait, pretty girl."

He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, whilst his eyes leave fire bloomed trails across your skin; even breathing becomes difficult in the sheer strength of his presence.

"Ok, love you." You manage in a huffed breath, planting a tacky lipped kiss to his full lips.

Moving to the bedroom to settle down at your vanity, you apply the most innocent makeup that you can muster, knowing full well that Eddie was going to lose it when he saw you. All doll eyes and soft pink frosted lips.

It didn't take as long as you had left to get ready, but tactically you stayed alone in the bedroom just a little while longer.

You know, as sure as death and taxes, that Eddie will outstrip himself of all composure at the sight of your outfit. One of the many reasons why you felt it necessary to hide until just before the party commences. I mean, if he saw you before, you're well aware of how quickly you'd be pinned to the bed due to his desires.

Five minutes to go, and you feel just safe enough to make your exit. You know he has no time to manifest his impulses. Stepping out of the bedroom, you move towards him in your white low cut strappy top, white pleated tennis skirt and trainers, complete with angel wings and golden wire halo. Your thigh high socks are pristine, a white glow of virgin material, matching the soft white feathers of your faux wings. Turning on the spot in a flirty display, you give out a small girlish giggle.

"Holy fucking shit sweetheart. I mean, well. Fuck."

Whilst he clambers for speech, you catch a moment to take in just how good he looks.

As far as effort, it's not much. But you can't help but feel any more would be too much. Gilding the lily. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to steady yourself.

Looking from his large feet upwards, it's standard Eddie attire. Clunky combat boots, black jeans, and a black belt with a custom devil's head buckle. Glancing upwards is where it gets interesting. A maroon button down shirt adorns him, the sleeves rolled up and so unbuttoned that the majority of his glistening inked chest is exposed.

Fake blood makes its slow, antagonising drip from his neck down the rippling muscles of his torso. Fingertip smudges lay on his toned neck, drawing your eye to his stubbly chiselled jaw and cheekbones. His eyes look sunken due to the heavy eyeliner that sat there, enhancing his dramatic stare. The piece de la resistance lay in his curling mop of hair. Bone-like horns rose from his scalp into the atmosphere, so naturally they appeared to be a part of his body; you couldn't even work out how they were attached.

The most dramatic part of all were the all black contact lenses that appeared to not only take over his irises, but also the whites of his eyes, making him look possessed. Pure inky black orbs stare back at you in a way that makes your thighs clench with want.

Eddie's just about as lost in your looks as you are lost in his.

"Did you- did you know, sweet thing?"

"I saw the package arrive with the custom horns, I kinda knew from there. I had a school girl outfit, but I thought it would be cute to match, you know?"

Watching Eddie intently you notice a heavy swallow; an attempt to compose himself.

"A school girl outfit too? Which you have?" The shakiness of his voice ripples a chuckle through your chest.

"Yes, a school girl outfit. But you like this, right?"

"Oh you have no fuckin' idea sweets."

Taking your hand, he moves to spin you in a slow circle. When your back is to him however, he can't help but flip your skirt up to flash your underwear to his perverted gaze.

"Hey!"

"Hey what?" He says, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Creep."

He laughs in his throat, lifting your skirt again for a final peek.

"Can you blame me? I mean, look at this little white lace number, how I'm I supposed to control myself?"

As you giggle, pulling your skirt down, the doorbell rings.

"Ooh you're gonna get it later for this. I know what you're doing. You menace."

He takes long strides, aiming for the front door, and opens it with a single swing.

"Eddie!"

"Well, you would be first eh? Welcome, bro."

Squinting at the doorway, all you can see is the shiny white plastic of a stormtrooper costume.

A rather muffled voice emanates from the helmet. "Well, I've got to be on time, and meet this girl of yours. Good evening ma'am." He storms quite aptly into your apartment, sections of armour rapping with a dull noise.

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. I'm gonna say it.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

The man in front of you struggles out of the white helmet, shakes out a mane of curly brunette hair and announces to Eddie, "marry her. Immediately."

Eddie laughs and swings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him so he can plant an affectionate kiss to your forehead. The stormtrooper pulls his white gauntlet off and gives you a keen but sweaty handshake.

"Dustin. Dustin Henderson. I'm Eddie's best friend."

"No you aren't."

"Er, yeah I am. Duh."

You laugh at their ongoing argument and gesture to invite him in. As he walks past, rambling about the size of the place and everything that Eddie's missed back home, you grip Eddie by the shoulder lightly, stealing his movements briefly.

Keeping your voice low, just for him, you say "Just, before this all starts, I wanted to ask if there's anything you wanted later tonight? You know, special, for your birthday?"

Eddie chuckles lowly as his hand engulfs your own. The other grips you firmly by the chin, forcing your doe eyes to meet his black steely glare, contacts magnifying his dominance.

"Oh sweet thing, there's only one thing I want you to do tonight."

Cocking your head with an unasked question, Eddie grins and bends to whisper hot breath in your ear. Just one word. One word is all he needs.

"Obey."

As quickly as it's said, he's gone, walking after Dustin with long strides, talking about back home. He's left you standing dumbly in the doorway; thighs clenched, mouth dry, with a hot blush creeping up your neck.

Trying to take soothing, calm breaths, you walk back into the apartment on almost wobbling legs. That is until the doorbell goes again. This time, it's Eddie's bandmates and manager.

The stream of party goers continues steadily and you spend your time meeting, greeting, dumping coats, and fixing drinks. The server within you goes on autopilot helping with every little thing. That is until you hear Eddie's laugh across the room, clear as a bell.

He's standing with Dustin and some other guy you don't recognise. Thinking it was about time you checked in, you move to walk over when a snippet of their conversation stops you dead in your tracks.

"So, I thought you were bringing Harrington? Haven't seen him in ages."

"Well he was gonna, but Nance went into labour. Kid number six. Can you believe that?"

"Six? Jesus H Christ, he doesn't mess around!"

"Oh, he told me to ask you specifically, 'when is that freak gonna finally settle down and have kids?' His words, not mine, trust me!"

Eddie chuckles. "Tell him, soon."

It's as if someone had stabbed an icicle through your heart. All the blood drains from your face in absolute shock. Mouth gaping for a moment, you spin on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.

Closing the door to shut out the noise of the party, you perch on the end of the bed, trying and failing to gather your thoughts.

Kids? Eddie Munson wants kids? There had been no inclinations, no hints at that at all. Honestly, you were so sure deep in the marrow of your bones that he didn't that you hadn't even thought to ask.

Trying to gulp down the lump of panic that threatened to rise in your throat, you force yourself to stop your hands wringing and take deep breaths. This isn't the time to panic. This is the time to talk.

Steeling your rattling nerves, you stand up in a false confident motion and make your way to the door, just as Eddie ploughs through it.

"Sweet thing, I thought I saw you run in here. You good? Party too much?" A concerned hand cups your cheek in the gentlest manner, belying his outward demonic appearance.

"I'm- I'm fine. Well, not fine, exactly." You huff, knowing it's too much for right now, but neither of you were going to feel peace until this conversation was had.

"Come on then, what's up?" He perches lightly on the edge of your shared bed, patting the space next to him openly.

You sit, hand automatically seeking his, entwining his digits with your own. Looking down at your conjoined hands you breathe, and breathe, and speak.

"Listen, I get it, if you want kids I understand. It's just I know I've said I was good with marriage but kids are something I've never wanted myself and I know it'll come between us and if you want to end things I understand but I-"

"Woah, woah there sweet thing, slow down. What are you saying?"

You stop to breathe again, in an attempt to cease the incoherent rambling threatening to control your tongue.

"I'm saying if you want to break up with me I get it. I didn't know you wanted a family."

A bubble of a chuckle spills out from Eddie's chest, making you flinch. How could he laugh at a time like this? You feel your cheeks flash with crimson fury.

"I do not think it's funny Eddie."

"Well I do, pretty girl."

You whip your head to face him, rage threatening to broil over, staring incredulously. That is until he speaks.

"I don't want kids sweets. Where's this come from?"

You gape, mouth opening and closing like a caught fish.

"I- what? You just said, to Dustin! You told him ‘soon’!"

A full belly laugh consumes Eddie then, face creasing with the effort. You attempt to pull your hand from his in frustration but it just makes him grip on all the tighter.

"I'm sorry, sweets, let me explain. I always say that to Steve. It's kind of an in joke. Any time he tells me I need to settle down and have kids, I always tell him 'soon'. He knows I don't want kids, I've told him enough times. I'm sorry, it's just a running gag. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, now, now I feel stupid." You toss your head back to stare at the ceiling, willing the unnecessary tears to flee before they ruin your makeup.

"Hey, you're not stupid. Look at me."

Nothing could stop his ironclad voice gripping you and turning your head as if it were mechanical.

"It's a misunderstanding. Glad we caught it before it got out of hand. I'm not letting you go sweetheart. You're worth way more than some imaginary kids."

A weak smile dances across your lips. Eddie reaches out a calloused thumb to rub an errant tear away.

"Look at you, pretty girl, getting all worried. C'mere." You crawl into his lap, swaddled in strong arms. Safe.

Gripping your chin he tilts your face into an all encompassing kiss. The noise of the party lies forgotten outside, unimportant. Lips move sensually as one, tongues reaching out to stroke each other.

Eddie pulls away gently, black contact-lensed eyes sparkling devilishly.

"We best leave and get these presents out the way, or I'm never leaving this bedroom."

He winks and helps you out of his lap gently, holding out a strong hand to help you to your feet.

"Oh shit, sorry sweets." Pointing at your front, you follow his finger and notice the smudge of fake blood on the pristine white of your top.

"Well, that was inevitable." Shrugging it off, you move your way to the door, turning to take in his taunt frame one last time in private, before you have to share him again.

The next couple of hours whizz by in a whirlwind of Halloween music, pleasing platitudes and jaw aching smiles. The presents Eddie receives are vast and thoughtful, so much so that it makes you doubt your own gift.

Finally, he puts a 20 year old bottle of scotch to the side, a gift from John, his manager, and looks to open yours. Your heart sits heavily in your throat in anticipation.

Ripping the wrapping away, Eddie freezes in his tracks, hands hovering as if paused.

Cringing at the awkwardness of the silence you can't help but attempt to fill it with meaning.

"I know it's the same as the guitar you had to sell ages ago, and I just wanted it to be special, you know? So I asked John and he pulled some strings."

The N.J series Warlock shines almost evilly in red and black, the erratically curved body glossily gleaming in the light. All apart from the matt black signature clearly on display.

"Is this- is this Kirk Hammett's signature? As in, Kirk Hammett? Metallica's Kirk Hammett? How?"

You blush at his piercing gaze, eyes looking down and away.

"Well, I found the guitar, and John got in touch with their agent and I had a chat with their manager, told them how much of a fan you are, and sorted it all. Do you like it?"

"You have no idea, sweets. That's the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. This is the best gift I've ever got. Thank you." He reaches out to compulsively stroke your knuckles with his rough fingertips, eyes glossing over.

After another hour or so the party eventually dies down. The last to leave is Dustin, after several promises that you will both visit Indiana soon and participate in a Dungeons and Dragons one shot with the old Hellfire gang.

At long last, the front door is shut, and all is silent. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding and walk towards the kitchen to start cleaning up. That is until a large hand wraps round the entirety of your wrist, stilling your movements immediately.

"What do you think you're doing, pretty girl?"

A flush creeps up the expanse of your neck, threatening to spill out onto your cheeks.

"I was- I thought I'd tidy up a bit, you know?"

"Sweet thing, we can sort this out tomorrow, together. You need to get in the bedroom. Right now."

For a moment you pause, a glass in each hand, halted in your activity. Eddie's large palm cups your cheek in the most delicate of manners. Hot breath permeates your space; a gust of suffocating heat that draws all air from your lungs.

"Did I stutter?"

You take in a sharp breath, eyes focusing on his firm gaze, his muscular frame, his horns. You place the glasses you're holding on the nearest sideboard and hustle your way to the bedroom.

Perching feather light on the edge of the bed, you clench your thighs in anticipation, not daring to strip off any clothes, waiting for his say so. It's unclear exactly when Eddie's word became unimpeachable, yet here you were, unwilling to untie your shoe without his permission. If it were anyone else you may find it within you to be embarrassed, but it was Eddie. You trusted him with every fibre of your being. He had you listening to him without question, because of the respect you had both fostered for each other. Something about him giving orders pressed your thighs together with urgent need.

The door swings open and Eddie strides in. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, staring at his muscular torso with inescapable want. Every nerve ending was singing with his previous word. Obey.

"Well look at you. Must be my birthday." Eddie smiles. It spreads across his face stickily, like warm wax and honey, drawing you in with its seemingly sweet demeanour.

"What do you want from me baby?" You blink at him, eyes round and wet and innocent.

"Well, I suppose you can make up for the teasing from earlier." He smirks and sits down on the edge of the bed, patting his knee in an effort to make you join him.

Staring at him cluelessly, Eddie tires of your games and manhandles you into position. A gasp escapes your lips when you find yourself bent over his knee with your ass unceremoniously in the air, practically begging for his succour.

Eddie flips your stark white skirt up to expose your lacy french knickers.

"Well, look at these pretty, pretty things. Pity you were such a tease earlier. Five on each cheek, seems fair right?"

A harsh breath expands your lungs in shock at his words.

“You've never done that many before.”

“You’ve never deserved it before.”

"I wasn't, I wasn't that bad baby. Please."

Eddie's laugh vibrates through the flesh of your thighs.

"Oh sweet girl, I think you know how bad you've been. So just do what I told you to do and obey, or it'll be ten for each cheek, ok sweetheart?"

Every fibre of your lower being threads together, tensing with the threat.

"Ok ok, I'm sorry baby."

"Good girl. See, I knew you had it in you."

He doesn't bother with further words, just spreads your ass over his thighs.

The first is little more than a tap, a teasing gesture to warm you up to the idea. You lay across him as still as possible, trying to will your muscles not to clench. The second is harder, the third harder still. Then the fourth happens. A proper spank, you feel it deep in the muscle of your ass. As soon as his large hand makes contact an involuntary mewling noise escapes your lips, high pitched and whiny.

“You OK sweet thing? Colour?” Eddie says, referring to your safe word system whilst rubbing softly over the impact, soothing away the sting.

“Yes Sir, green.”

Eddie lets out a self satisfied hum with the honorific.

“There’s my good girl.”

The shock of the fifth strike rips a moan from your throat, laced with need.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you enjoyed that.” Eddie’s voice reaches you, laden with something akin to pride.

“I mean maybe, a little.” You can’t escape the blush that reaches to the roots of your hair.

“Maybe, huh? Want me to stop?”

“No!” You exclaim at once, all embarrassment forgotten.

Eddie’s deep laugh at your eagerness vibrates from his tensing thighs into the flesh of your stomach.

“Atta girl, doing so good for me.” You try to control the way you want to squirm at the warmth of his words, face heating at the praise.

Suddenly, he delivers two quick slaps to the other cheek making you tense up; a strangled shocked noise forces itself out of your mouth. Eddie chuckles, soothing the red mark with gentle touches. His hand slips under the fabric of your panties stroking at the tender skin.

“Mind if I take these off, pretty girl?”

“N-no, that’s fine.” you lift yourself in the air, allowing him to roll your underwear off. You can’t help but cringe at the way they stick to your aroused heat, clinging to your core with the evidence of your desire.

“Fuck, these are soaked, sweet thing. I knew you were into this.” He hums, pleased with himself, and delivers another sharp smack to your ass, eliciting a whine from you. “Just two more sweets. Are you gonna be good for me?”

“Yes, please Eddie, please.”

The final smacks come down hard; the sting ringing across your skin in a ripple of white hot pain that borders on pleasure. Your fingers curl tightly shut, eyes squeezing small tears out of the corners.

“That’s it, pretty girl, all done. Such a good girl, taking it so well.”

You clamber off his lap, wiping at an errant tear. Moving to sit, you wince at the contact of your sore skin on the mattress.

“I’m sorry sweets, is it too sore? Here, get on your hands and knees for me. I need to taste my favourite thing.” He grins at you.

“Don't you want me to look after you? It’s your birthday.” You frown.

“No need to worry your pretty head about it, you know I want to.”

Easing yourself into position, you baulk at the sudden feeling of his tongue running through your folds. This position feels different and dirty; you’re entirely exposed to him. At his mercy.

Arching your back, you can’t help but push into his tongue, feeling his piercing run across you, slathering your cunt with his spit, making it even wetter than before. He slides it inside, fucking into you, before slipping out and running his tongue up to your ass. The unexpected feeling shakes you; being entirely inexperienced with any anal play you're surprised at how much you like it, how much your body wants to chase the feeling of his tongue. Moaning and shamelessly pushing back into him, you feel your core begin to ignite, threatening to blaze throughout your body.

Feeling the coarseness of Eddie’s fingertips rubbing against your clit, your ceaseless mewling grows louder, warmth pooling in your belly.

“Oh yes Eddie, please, don’t stop!” You plead, as if he were about to halt his movements. Nothing could have stopped him at this point; he was just as intent at pushing you over the edge as you were in falling over it.

Eddie’s tongue continues to tease and lap at your hole as you struggle to keep upright, knees wanting to buckle from the sheer volume of sensations coursing their way through you. Your sounds are desperate and hoarse; you’ve been so loud it's straining your throat.

Finally, the cord snaps and a wave of intense pleasure flows out of you, rippling over each nerve, winding its way over and around you, engulfing you in its warm glow.

Unable to keep your own head upright, your body sinks into the mattress, ass up, in an obscene mannequin’s pose. You don’t find it in you to care, still coming down from the intensity of your orgasm.

“That good for you, pretty girl?”

You make a noise, almost an ‘uh huh’. Eddie chuckles and begins stripping off his clothes. You hear his jeans and shirt hit the floor with a soft noise.

“I didn’t know you were into that; you’re just full of surprises, sweets. My filthy fuckin’ angel.”

You turn to face him, sprawled out unceremoniously on the bed. You fling your arm underneath you in order to hold yourself as upright as you can manage right now.

“Honestly, I didn’t know I was into that. You’re corrupting me, Mr Munson.”

Eddie smiles like the devil himself.

“Say it again.”

Furrowing your brow, you glance at him with a questioning gaze.

“You’re corrupting me?”

“Fuck, why is that so hot.”

He shakes his head, almost with disbelief, as he discards his underwear and lays down. He’s still wearing the horns, protruding from his head like some demonic entity. Seeing him laying there, with the black contacts still in, positively smothered with fake blood, dark tattoos and a thin sheen of sweat, you could almost believe he was a demon. You certainly weren't thinking angelic thoughts right now.

“So, angel, you gonna strip for me?” Eddie’s smile is encumbered with his desires, teeth flashing crudely.

Face flushing scarlet, you move to start taking your wings off. It’s Eddie’s turn to blush.

“Can- can you keep those on? I kinda like the idea of fucking an angel.”

Giggling shyly, you strip off entirely, and put the angel wings back on. You leave the halo too. He may as well get the full experience.

“C’mere.” Eddie gestures with grabbing hands, asking you to climb on top of him.

“Eddie I don’t think I-”

“Just come here. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Just want a good view.”

You scramble unsurely onto his lap on wobbly legs, soaking wet heat rubbing against his throbbing member. Eddie’s large, rough palms massage calming motions into the fat of your hips, making you feel more secure.

Sinking down onto his massive length, you bite your lip at the stretch, velvet quivering walls swallowing him whole; besmearing his length in your sticky slick.

“Eddie, I-I can’t, my legs-'' Your bottom lip shakes, knowing you don’t have the strength to ride him like he deserves.

“Hey, pretty girl, I’ve got you, it’s alright.” Each of his huge hands engulf your ass as he picks you up bodily and slams you back down against his pubic bone, cock buried deep within you, knocking all the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of the thrust. Your fake wings shake as if they were attempting to flutter towards the stars. Only it doesn’t stop. Eddie keeps slamming you into him, coarse pubic hair teasing your swollen clit, the hard thrusts feeling heavenly; each singular movement hitting that spot inside so deep it’s making you see God.

“Oh my- Oh my God, yes!”

Your mewling cries are proliferating with each heavy propulsion into your sopping heat. Struggling to keep your head upright, you feel it lolling to the side, overridden by the utter depravity of each drive into your begging cunt.

“That’s it, fuck yes, I’m your fuckin’ God now. Take it, my filthy fuckin’ angel. So tight for me.” Eddie’s thrusts into you increase in power, propelling into you with an obscene squelching sound. The fluttering of your satin walls only intensifies at his filthy words, sending a deep shudder into the depths of your core. Your walls uncontrollably twitch around his imposing length, shattering any hope you had of keeping composure.

Without further warning, the dam breaks. An intense flow of celestial light traverses throughout your every vein, your pussy desperately clamping around him, threatening to never let go. This feeling, this majesty of enamour, is something you wish to never see the end of. The intensity of it shocks you to your very core and washes away all previous versions of yourself, leaving you with you; here and now, a you that nothing else could ever contend with. A you that is his; owned by Eddie, through and through.

A few quick thrusts and Eddie is following you, painting your insides with the throbbing mess of his release. Sinking onto his chest, you snuggle close to him; fake blood and all.

“Well sweets, we’re a fuckin’ mess.” Eddie chuckles, gesticulating at the myriad of bodily fluids and Halloween blood that coats you both.

“I know, baby. Five more minutes?” You gaze at him with expectant eyes.

“Anything for you, pretty girl. Plus, we should shower together. We've not crossed the bathroom off the list." He winks.

********************

Today’s the day. One year since your impromptu date with Eddie. One year since you were unable to get this man off of your mind. One year since your life had been turned upside down, in the best of ways.

“Sound check! Come on guys, let’s get this rolling!”

You’d been hanging out backstage with Eddie and the rest of the band, helping them set up for what looks to be their most popular show yet. It hadn’t been the plan for your anniversary, of course. Eddie had made a point of letting you know that; but tour dates had changed and you had felt that it was easier for you to make a compromise than it was for the rest of the band, not to mention the hundreds of people watching them perform.

Their band, Tongue Tattoo, had braced the edges of obscurity and were suddenly thrust into the limelight with relatively no warning, as these things often develop. The pride you felt when watching him perform was unmatched. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help the niggling need to have him to yourself on your anniversary, but knowing Eddie, you had no doubt in your mind that he would make up for it with alacrity.

“Hey, sweet thing”

Turning to face him, you see your gorgeous partner Eddie, kitted out in leatherette pants and a mesh shirt, looking as delectable as ever.

“Hey baby” you envelop his lips with the sweetest kiss.

“Can you do me a favour, pretty girl? The crowd’s just getting too big. Can you stay backstage? On the sides is fine, I just don’t want you near the pit. It’s too much.”

You frown, but nod your agreement. It was a lot, and you wanted to stay safe, if only for him.

“Atta girl. I’ll be looking for you, OK?”

“Sure baby, I’ll be there.”

He smiles warmly at you whilst planting a soft kiss to your knuckles. You can’t help but watch him walk away, eyes trained on the expanse of his muscled back.

Feeling like a spare part, you do your best to stay out of the way of everyone trying to set up for the show. The intense, out of order shout of everyone attempting to execute roles to little effect was draining on you.

“Hey, Eddie said you were staying backstage.”

John, Eddie’s manager, called out to you, an unlit cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. There was something a bit too slick, too neat about him, but you suspected this was just a trend of band managers. He had always been sweet to you, especially when fixing Eddie’s most recent gift.

“John! Thank God, I’m sorry, I think I’m in the way.” You shrug, heat blossoming on the apples of your cheeks.

“Not at all girl, all these guys are in your way, OK? Come stand over here, stage right, you can still see the show, and not be bothered by all these sweaty roadies, OK doll?” He flashes a greasy grin, proffering a hand. You take it gratefully and stand in the pre ordained spot.

“Thanks John, I don’t wanna be in the way.”

“Nonsense, everyone else is in the way! You wanna make it in Hollywood, you remember that.” He flashes a grin and moves off to tell someone how to do their job.

Giggling at his confidence, you attempt to manifest some of your own as the lights dim and the rumble of the crowd is thrown into overload.

Stage lights flicker into life, yellow and purple and red, and you glimpse the side profile of the love of your life. His cheeky side grin, the shimmer off of his hair. His pulsating aura, spreading out and hitting everyone it comes into contact with.

No matter how many times you see it, how many slightly different manifestations there were, you remain utterly enamoured with their show. The sounds, the sights, the theatrics; it drew you in every time, until your focus was irrefutably on Eddie, and Eddie alone.

He glowed. There was no other way to describe it. He was a luminous being, not this crude matter. Every pore of his seemed to exude this all encompassing sexual energy which quickly drew you in and made you impervious to any other energies surrounding him.

The show, as predicted, was phenomenal. Towards the end of the encore, you look to make your way on pre-programmed legs to Eddie’s dressing room, hovering further back from your viewing spot. He's pulling his guitar strap over his head and placing it down reverently; except, Eddie’s not leaving.

"Who wants to meet the prettiest girl in the building?" Eddie's gravelly voice projects into the microphone. You blush profusely as he gestures to you. Reluctantly, you wobble forward, taking a few unsure steps so you're just in view of the crowd. There's a rumble of applause and cheers from the fans, waving and shouting at your presence. Glancing out at a sea of faces you can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Eddie reaches his hand out to give you an encouraging squeeze which you accept gladly.

"Our last song is dedicated to you, sweet thing."

The band starts playing a slow number which sounds vaguely familiar; you can't quite place it at first, until Eddie starts singing.

"When you were here before

Couldn't look you in the eye

You're just like an angel…"

It's Creep, by Radiohead. One of your favourite songs. You didn't even know he knew that. Their version is heavier; it has a bite, an edge to it. Paired with Eddie's husky singing it quickly becomes your favourite version.

He winks at you, half of the time singing just for you, the other half playing up to the crowd.

"But I'm a creep

I'm a weirdo!"

You giggle as he shouts into the microphone, harsh voice juxtaposing the melodic sound of the verse before it. Finishing the chorus, he strides over to you and grabs your hand, guiding you gently to the front of the stage.

"Eddie, what are you-"

Dropping his voice, low and quiet, he stares into your eyes.

"Whatever makes you happy

Whatever you want."

There's a sparkle to his eyes, a softness that threatens to spill down his cheeks for the world to see. Then, he kneels in front of you, pulling a ring box from his shirt pocket.

Time stops. Nothing as crass as seconds can possibly take place in this undying moment. The roar from the crowd echoes; rippling off the soundless bubble encompassing you both. It's trivial; barely registering. The moment stretches and lingers; you know it'll remain eternally in some way, an ouroboros; always there in your mind's eye.

Realising you're holding your breath, you take in a ragged gulp of air. It triggers the gathering tears that start to fall from saturated eyelashes.

"Sweet thing, you're so fuckin' special. You've left your mark on my heart, more permanent than any tattoo. I need you with me, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" You hurl yourself to his level, knees buckling, throwing your arms around his neck with abandon.

Kissing and kissing and kissing him, he breaks away briefly.

"Do you want to see the ring?" He chuckles into the mic, eliciting a ripple of giggles in the hall.

Holding out your hand, he slides the ring onto your finger. A beautiful piece; it has a white gold, almost vine-like band, with a stunning ruby set in the centre. It reminds you of a rose.

"It's beautiful Eddie, thank you."

Eddie grins, says "Thank you and good night" to the audience before abandoning the mic and scooping you up in his arms, taking you utterly by surprise.

"Eddie! Jesus-"

"Hold on, sweets, I need you." He smiles deviously at you, making his way across the stage with large strides to whisk you away somewhere private.

You smile at his antics and fling your arms around his neck, nuzzling close. Some things, you hope, will never change.

Masterlist

Tag list Part 1- rest in the comments due to Tumblr restrictions!

@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog

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nkogneatho · 11 months

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

: ̗̀➛synopsis: You were scared of falling in love but will you change your mind when you meet someone who actually shows you how you are filled with so much love?

#mlist #commission #taglist

—wc: 1.5k

—cw: gn!reader, fwb to lovers (ig), hurt/comfort, mild smut, cockwarming, receiving head, abandonment issues, past trauma, commitment issues, anxiety and crying, fluff, soft gojo, not proofread (its 2 am im sorry)

—a/n: so my mind decided to remind me of my trauma on a Wednesday night so I pulled this out of my ass. Tell me what you think if you read it :)) Reblogs much appreciated.

It fucked you up. Body fragile as a glass, mind clouded dark. The crippling fear emerged on the surface once again. That same old feeling. The feeling of abandoning someone before they abandon you.

You pitied yourself. What a pathetic person to get walked over by all those people. You despised every single decision you made. That included to kindle a relationship with this man.

Gojo Satoru. The strongest, they say. Hair whiter than snow, eyes glinting in light like the ocean waves turn diamond in sun.

He loved you. In fact, he loved you so much it scared you. The anxiety creeped up your back when he said those words to you.

"I love you."

He loves me. He said he loves me. But so did every other guy. He is lying. He'll leave.

Can you blame the traumatized mind to come to such conclusions?

Gojo did expect this reaction from you. He knew you were scared or love and commitment. Although the man felt the need to confess or he were to regret it for the rest of his life. Your knees met the floor with a loud thud, arms hanging like they were a soft toy.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Your voice cold.

"I do. I love you. And I know it's something you never wanted to hear given this relationship—fuck is this even a relationship?" His palm rubbed his forehead, feeling the rough sensation of his bangs

He was right to ask that question. Was this a relationship? You both started as just fuck buddies. You set a bunch of rules (which were tampered later anyway.)

Rule No. 1, no interference with other party's personal life.

Eh. He broke that when he started coming to your workplace with a bouquet of tulips every Monday. He knew Mondays were harsh. So you didn't complain because it did help to get through the rough day. Rule No. 1 successfully broken.

Rule No. 2, dates are okay sometimes but not a lot. Maybe twice a month.

Now, you were the one to alter this rule. Dates might be forbidden but not coming over to his place and treating it like your own home. His place was way more spacious given his generational wealth. It was easier to focus on work in such a silent and lone environment. The rule only got broken when you decided to move in. Well, you would save the time to call him over or you traveling here just to fuck.

By now, he had probably bullied his dick inside you in every single room. You still remembered his words.

"I want to fuck you in every square inch of this house, y/n."

And he did.

He fucked you on the big navy blue velvet layered couch, not giving a shit if your juices stained the expensive material. He'd just buy another one.

He spread your legs and ate you out on the dinner table on that one evening when the takeout took too long to arrive. Your fingerbeds grabbed his head so hard, it might've broken his skull as you orgasmed. He later thanked the delivery guy for being late to which the boy walked out with a confused look.

He made your wrap your legs tightly around him as you cockwarmed him on the kitchen counter. Brows furrowed, desperately wanting to grind. But your locked thighs around his slutty waist, not letting him do so.

Every square inch, he fucked you in. So Rule No.2 was off the table.

Rule No. 3, No catching of serious feelings or saying I love you.

Gojo didn't recently fall for you. He was caught in this way before you realized. Maybe he even doesn't remember it himself when he did.

"What do you mean? You just broke rule 3, Toru."

"Fuck those rules. I don't even know why we had them in the first place. Look at us y/n," he tried to reason. "We never follwed them so don't give me that crap." His voice was elevating to a higher octave. You hated it. You don't like yelling. It triggers the tinnitus in your ear.

Tears started rummaging down your dry cheeks. "Look at me. I know you're lying."

"Baby, I am not. I know it's hard to believe given your past but just trust me on this one." Yes he knew about your previous failed relationships and the effect it had on you. Which is why he took so long to confess. Each day, calculating the outcome. So at some point, he did know how you'd react. Maybe he'll lose you forever.

"Why?" You questioned him. You felt like you were a broken soul. Used and abused mentally. Taken advantage of the innocent mind and abandoned when you were to ask for the real love. You started hating the word love, ironically.

I love you. It sounds preposterous in your brain. What a fool would someone be to ever believe those words.

"Why? Look at yourself," he said.

"I do. Everyday. Which is why I asked the question. I am nothing but someone drowning. But I do not want to be saved. I don't want a savior, Toru! It makes me feel pathetic and weak." By now, you were wailing and screaming.

But he didn't interrupt. He let you scream your heart out. Maybe that was the last option he could choose to make you face your actual feelings.

"You done?" He asked. You were sniffing, catching your breath from all the yelling.

"Toru, all I see myself is as a broken soul. Why would you ever love...this" you pointed at yourself.

"You fool. Look in my eyes and tell me if I lie, but all i see in you is love. It's funny how you hate that feeling yet you're filled with it, y/n." His gaze softened. "You say you don't want a savior. Do you realize you don't need it in the first place. Because it's you who saves others."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember, Ginger was abandoned in the rain when we saw her the other day? No one cared about her but you did. You fed it canned cat food a took her to a shelter. You named her. You cared for her." He intertwined his hand in yours.

"Y/n. I used to wake up every single day in this apartment feeling absolute shit about what happened with Suguru and others. But when you started barging in on random days, that's when I started to feel a little better." You understood it. It is lonely to live alone with your own thoughts haunting you in this big pace.

"You made this house a home. You don't need a savior because you are one." he claimed.

"When did you—you started loving me?" You asked between hiccups.

"Sweetheart. I fall for your every single second. Everytime I wake up next to you. Everytime I see you smile. Whenever you skip on the same colored tiles on the footpath. I love all of you." That is when you realized how selfish you've been. Taking and taking his love but giving none back. He did so much for you. But you were about to leave him in a fear of something that might never happen.

"What if you leave just like all of them?" you asked.

"Give it one more chance. Who knows? Maybe I'll stick around for the rest of our lives." He wore a soft smile as he said those words, affirming you. You started crying again, but this time, it was due to happiness.

"If you never leave, I promise to love you more than myself."

"Oh, baby," he hugged you a tightly. "I love you so fucking much and I am so happy right now."

He pulled away and his lips crashed against yours. It's weird. You've kissed hundred times before but this one felt different. Maybe, because it was filled with love and acceptance.

You came to a realization. You don't know what the future holds. It is not the fear of abandonment that scares you. It's the feeling of you giving away all your love and them not giving any back. You always swam ocean for people who couldn't even meet you at the shore.

But Gojo never left your side. All this time, he was swimming right behind you, concealing you from all the harm. So if anyone's worth the risk, it's him.

Oh. Gojo Satoru. What a beautiful man you are.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 month

Text

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my fic

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blouisparadise · 3 months

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Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis or Harry are bakers. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Christmas Lights In Paris | Mature | 4,671 words

Harry vividly remembered the day he was foolish enough to be blinded by pointless rage. It had been on Louis' birthday, a year ago, and Harry had bought tickets to Paris for both him and Lou. He had expected Louis to come with him to Paris for 3 years, without really talking about the plan to his lover. Everything went down hill when Louis refused. "You think your bakery is far more important than I am?" Were the exact words he had spewed and stormed off.

2) Don’t Say Yes, Run Away Now | Not Rated | 5,076 words

Louis is getting married and Harry made a promise. Plus, he has a plan. Kind of.

3) Too Nervous To Be Lovers | Mature | 6,445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

4) I Built This Bed For Two (I Built This Bed For Me and You) | Explicit | 8,942 words

Harry and Louis broke up after uni and haven't seen each other since—until they're roped into doing a Buzzfeed video together. Featuring awkward cuddling and a reunion that just needed a kick in the arse, gleefully provided by Niall.

5) Feel My Love | Explicit | 10,479 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis always gets things done on time, he just takes a detour along the way. The detour? Having sex with Harry. Harry never brings it up. Until he does.

6) Were We Ever This Young? | Explicit | 17,297 words

Hogwarts AU in which Harry and Louis both return to give talks to seventh years about the 'real world' with slightly varying results. Inspired by the Chilton scene between Rory and Paris in the new Gilmore Girls.

7) Heart of Sugar, Sweet Temptation of Mine | Explicit | 25,600 words

The process of courting is seriously outdated nowadays, it's not common anymore; people don’t want to go through the hassle of a proper courtship, dating is easier. Louis though, he was raised in a very traditional family, every member, down to his parents, had a courting and a mating ceremony. He grew up hearing stories about how wonderful it is, how much deeper the connection gets between a courting pair can get, and he's wanted that for himself since he was a pup, always dreaming of his alpha showing up and sweeping him off of his feet. His dreams seem to be coming true when he moves into a new building, closer to where he works, and the older alpha living in the flat in front of his own, initiates the courtship process. Everything he's ever wanted is within reach. Or is it?

8) Confections Of The Heart | Explicit | 25,877 words

Harry chuckles, smiling when Louis’ breath hitches as he reaches up to brush his thumb over Louis’ cheek. “Louis, would you like to go on a date with me?” He still worries that the date won’t go well, that Harry will get bored of him or decide it’s too complicated dating an omega with a pup, but he nods anyway, “Yes.” It feels worth it when Harry’s lips widen into a grin and the dimple that Louis finds quite charming craters into his cheek. Who knows, maybe it won’t be as awkward as you think, Louis thinks to himself and follows Harry to where Oliver is watching a chef with a loud laugh show the pup how to sculpt with chocolate. Maybe this time it’ll work out.

9) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27,399 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before. His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later. And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button. Three… Two… One. Play.

10) Tis the Season for...Love? | Mature | 27,920 words

Louis might just be what Harry's needed all along.

11) Short And Sweet | Explicit | 29,658 words

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

12) Welcome Home | Explicit | 49,417 words

Louis Tomlinson had to put a stop to his football career for a couple of months and he decided to go back home to rest his mind for a little bit only to find out a really weird coffee shop owner started to visit his mother on a regular basis with just as peculiar but lovely kid named Maxine.

13) Taken Over By The Feeling | Mature | 53,654 words

After almost a year of increasingly troubling behavior, Louis agrees to let his sister live with him. It's a last resort before more drastic measures are taken by their mom. Harry Styles runs Given A Chance, a program for troubled and disadvantaged teens out of the bakery he owns. He offers the kids in his program what he believes they need to start on a different and better path for their lives. Louis learns all too quickly that Harry's goodwill does not extend to him. Only because he happens to remind Harry of an ex he'd rather forget. It's not the smoothest of beginnings, but in the end Louis' own issues might be the real problem.

14) Beachwood Cafe | Mature | 63,562 words

The AU where Louis works in a cute little beachside cafe after running away from his problems and Harry is the tall handsome stranger who makes him question everything.

15) Wild Thing | Mature | 65,950 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

16) Alpha's Sweet Omega | Not Rated | 66,133 words

Every soulmark differs from Alpha to Beta to Omega. It’s like a puzzle piece that connects you to your soulmate. Some legends from the ancient times say that when you have an aching soulmark, you’re close in finding your mate, and you’ll know that it is your mate when the scent transcends and entices you. And the pain in the mark will subside when you touch your mate. But what if you are already bounded to someone who is not your Alpha? Does social status matter? Will an Alpha fight for his rightful place and win the love of his Omega? The story of love and facing the odds. Making the impossible possible. The things you will do for Love...

17) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83,615 words

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs #baker harry #baker louis

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lokislittlemidgardian · 1 year

Note

Hi friend :) can please write Bucky x little reader where our therapist recommends we try age regression and how we are very hesitant at first but he just makes us feel loved and comfortable?

Let’s try it

Content - age regression, cg!bucky, psychologists, anxiety, apprehensive!reader, light swearing, soft toys, dummy use, bottles, slight angst, fluff cuddles, not proofread, don’t like don’t read.

Summary - when your psychologist gives you a new coping mechanism to try bucky helps makes you feel comfortable with trying it.

Authors note - thank you for the request my love sorry it took so long I hope you enjoy it!, reblogs are greatly appreciated<3

Translation - honey love = med lyubov'

“Age what?” You questioned your psychologist curiosity, you never got over how many things you’d never heard of before in terms of the mind.

“Age regression dear, I think it might benefit you” dr irin said plainly with a reassuring smile plastered across her lips “what does that entail?” “Well age regression therapy is when you revert to a childlike mindset in order to heal your inner child so to speak.”

You sat there for a minute trying to process the information given to you. “So how old would I go back too?” “It’s hard to say dear, it depends on what your mind does” she smiled reaching into her desk to pull out a pamphlet and some recommended websites.

“Now I was also thinking that some people who experience age regression find it easier when they have someone to take care of them, so maybe your partner James-“ “Bucky, yeah no I’m not bothering him with this” you said butterfly’s making their way into your chest.

“Okay hon” dr irin said softly “just know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s perfectly healthy” “okay” you sighed looking down at the pamphlet.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

“Hi baby” Bucky smiled putting down the spatula and turning down the heat on the stove before walking over too you.

“Hi Bub, what’re you making?” You asked curiously walking over to the frying pan “pancakes, figured you might like some after your session” he smiled kissing your temple.

“Aww thank you, you bloody softy come here” you smiled pulling him in and kissing his soft lips “your welcome, so how’d you go?” He asked returning to the stove and flipping a pancake over on the other side.

“Yeah it was okay” you sighed sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs “what did you talk about?” “Not much she just gave me some strategies” you sighed smiling as you watched Bucky place the pancakes on a plate “what do you want on ‘em bub?” He said walking over to the fridge.

“Can I have one with maple syrup and fruit and another with lemon and sugar please?” “Of course you can my love.”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

A few hours went by eventually turning the sky dark.

You were currently sitting on the sofa your favourite show playing on the telly while scrolling through your unanswered messages of the day.

Suddenly you realised your phone was about to run out of charge “buck can you get me my portable charger please?” You called out to Bucky who was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper.

“Sure where is it?” “In my bag I think” “okay”

In retrospect you probably should of remembered that you took your bag to your appointment. A few minutes later bucky came out with your portable charger in one hand and the pamphlet in his vibranium one.

“Here you go doll, hey what’s this?” He asked as he scanned the contents “what’s what?” You asked plugging in your phone and looking up at him “oh shit.”

“It’s nothing” you said quickly attempting to snatch it off him only to have him hold it up higher still accessing the words “it’s just something dr irin gave me give it here” “sounds interesting” he said gently giving it to you.

“Don’t judge it please I don’t even wanna do it it’s stupid” you whispered “hey hey no it’s not stupid if your doctor said it might help you should give it a go” he said kindly sitting next to you gently making you look at him.

“But I don’t know how and what if it doesn’t work it’s gonna be weird I just don’t-“ “hey dolly look at me yeah deep breaths in for 5 hold for 4 out for 5, that’s the way” he said softly guiding you through your breathing.

Once you calmed down you talked Bucky through what your psychologist had told you and he was completely on board.

During the next few days things went back to normal, that was until bucky received a large package “Bucky” you said suspiciously watching him sign for it seeing his cheeky smile.

“What have you done now” you said accusingly “ahh it’s actually for you sweetheart” he said kindly placing the box on the kitchen bench and ripping it open.

Inside there was a selection of soft toys, colouring in books, some bottles and a teal dummy. “Oh buck” you said breathlessly moving to embrace him.

“I told you angel I’m on board with this 100 percent”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

A few days later you finally slipped after lots of research and trying out different approaches. You were currently sat on the sofa with your dummy in your mouth and alpine laying down beside you her soft breathing and snores alerting you to the fact she had fallen asleep.

“Daddy” you whispered to Bucky watching his face light up when you called him that “yes little one?” “Look at pine pine” you giggled pointing at her “aww she’s asleep, what do you think cats dream about baby bunny?”

“I dunno, mice?” “Mice” he chuckled heartily “yes” you said definitively “dada” “hmm?” “Can I have a cuddle?” “Of course you can my little angel” he said softly.

Repositioning yourself to lie between his legs your back of resting against his chest you felt his vibranium arm gently come to play with your hair “do you feel better med lyubov'?”

“Mhm” you hummed feeling yourself grow sleepy in the embrace of your caregiver.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd

#daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky barnes #little!reader #cg!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #little reader #agere sfw #ria answers

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iris-writesx · 9 months

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Little Fucker | Gallavich

ian and mickey wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of an intruder in their kitchen, but it not what it seems — idk what this is but hey my first full gallavich fic, whoop whoop. honestly this is just a rambled mess of fluff. i’m still trying to get my characterisation for these boys down, so feedback would be greatly appreciated :)

2k words — mention of past trauma, though this is all fluffy and domestic. mickey and ian are married

fic requests are open for gallavich, please send any and all into my asks. reblogs and feedback would also make me super happy <3

༶��┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Mickey had always been a light sleeper. Just the feeling of Ian’s weight leaving the mattress in the morning was enough to stir him from his sleep, blinking groggily up at his husband as he got ready for the day. He supposed it was due to his upbringing, being awoken by Terry yelling or things being thrown at him throughout his childhood. He distinctly remembers one night when he was ten being woken by the shattering of glass, and later realised that the bottle Terry had thrown in his drunk stupor had missed and smashed the window instead. That whole winter he had slept with two jumpers on to stop the winter air blowing into his room from freezing him to death.

So he was a light sleeper. Which is why the crash that came from their kitchen was enough to force Mickey out of his sleep, his eyes wide as he immediately rose up into a sitting position. He sat frozen, listening for anything else, before another crash followed, something smashing against their tiled kitchen floor.

Ian was blissfully asleep beside him, and it took Mickey four shoves against his husband’s arm before he even began to stir.

“What?” He groaned, not even turning to look at him, eyes still closed.

“Get up.”

“Fuck off,” Ian grumbled, rolling over to face away from Mickey, and huffing out of his nose he grabbed onto Ian’s forearm and shook it a bit roughly until he had annoyed him enough to roll back over to face him. “Holy fuck, what do you want?”

Mickey glared down at his husband, offended by the immediate annoyance… as if he wouldn’t act the same if awoken in the middle of the night. “Someone’s in the fuckin’ kitchen, asshole.”

That definitely got Ian’s attention. Mickey observed as his eyebrows immediately scrunched, lips turning downwards as he also sat up, eyes shifting past Mickey to stare at their closed bedroom door, as if he could see through it.

Ever since Mickey had been sleeping in the same bed as Ian — since he finally started accepting just how much he needed Ian, since the nights where he was supposed to be on Ian’s bedroom floor were spent up against him in his bed — he had always put himself between Ian and the door. Maybe it was the assumption that there would always be danger, like he was living at home and there was always a chance of Terry barrelling through the door to hit him. But Mickey knew that he’d always want Ian further into the room than himself. Realistically, he knew that probably nothing was ever going to happen — a little ironic after he had been woken up by the sound of an intruder in their kitchen — but just in case, he would always put himself into the line of danger first.

Ian was still staring at the door. His hand had unconsciously reached out to grip onto Mickey’s leg, a light squeeze against the plush of his thigh. “I can’t hear anything, Mick.”

“You think I’m fuckin’ making it up?”

Ian turned to scowl at him. “That’s not what I said. I’m j’st saying that it doesn’t sound like anybody’s there.”

“I know what I heard, asshole-“

Another smash came from the kitchen, and instead of jumping like Ian did, Mickey couldn’t help the smug smile that formed over his mouth. “Told you, bitch.”

Ian rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, instead he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned down, grabbing a shirt from the floor and quickly throwing it on. Mickey, who cared much less about looking decent in front of a fucking burglar, instead leaned down to grab the gun that he kept tucked under his side of the bed just in case. He rounded the bed and forcefully shoved Ian beside him, reaching out with his free hand to open the doorknob. “Stay behind me.”

Ian didn’t argue, so he pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, his gun raised out in front of him. Within all of the domestic bliss that he and Ian had been living in for some time now, it had actually been a while since he’d held a gun — the last time was probably when he had put it under his side of the bed. The weight of it felt heavy in his hand, the metal cold against his skin — he never thought that he would be in a place where the feeling of a gun in his hand was weird to him.

With Ian still behind him they got to the kitchen, and whilst there was no intruder to be seen, there was glass and porcelain smashed all over their floor. He glanced up at the counter and noticed that there were still a few plates and a glass that had been left to clean up in the morning, and he was guessing that the ones now in pieces on the floor came from that stack of washing up.

“Aw man,” Mickey grumbled, nudging a larger piece of black porcelain with his toe. “My favourite fuckin’ mug.”

“Mick look-”

“Yeah I know, man, I can see it.”

“No,” Ian huffed, and poked one of his shoulder blades. “On the table.”

Mickey turned his head, and just blinked when he saw the little orange cat sat on their kitchen table, staring back at them with its huge bug eyes. It reminded him of one of the little street cats from back home that Mandy used to insist on feeding when she was just a kid. “What the fuck is that thing doing in here?”

“Must’ve come in through the window,” Ian nudged him again, and Mickey glanced up at the open window above the counter. “Poor guy must’ve knocked all the glasses over on his way in.”

“Poor guy? It broke our shit.”

“Yeah well I told you to close the windows at night.”

Mickey turned to shoot Ian a glare, as if to say it wasn’t his fault that the little fucker got into their home, but Ian slipped past him and sidestepped all of the glass over towards the table, where he reached down to scratch said little fucker on the top of its head.

“I’ll clean up then, yeah?” He huffed, putting the gun in the waistband of his boxers for now as he carefully dodged any glass on the floor to grab the broom they kept stood by the fridge, and started to sweep all of the shards into a pile. When he glanced up at Ian he was still fussing over the cat, and he just rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “Aye, some fuckin’ help would be nice.”

“He hasn’t got a collar,” Ian had that dumb puppy dog pout on his lips as he turned back to his husband, and in one motion he scooped the cat up into his arms, cradling the thing against his chest. “And he’s really small. I think he’s a stray, Mick.”

“Oh yeah? Too bad, it broke my mug, piece of shit.”

Ian glared, dipping his head down to kiss the cat on its peanut head. “We should let him stay for the night.”

“Why should we do that?” Mickey rolled his eyes, leaning the broom against the counter once he had all of the shards in a pile, and instead grabbed the dustpan to collect it all to toss into the bin.

“‘Cause it’s cold out.”

“Thing’s got fur, ain’t it?” Ian was still glaring when he looked back up and he just groaned, wiping a hand over his face as he let the now empty dustpan clatter down against their counter. “Christ, you really wanna keep it here for the night?”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “Not just for the night-“

“Ain’t fuckin’ happening, Gallagher.”

Ian sighed, putting the cat down on the table gently before he moved over to him, that fucking stupid pout back on his face as he took Mickey’s shoulders in his hands with a light squeeze. “He’s just a small thing, Mick, he won’t be any trouble.”

“It’s been here for five fuckin’ seconds and smashed half of our cups.”

Ian squeezed his shoulders a little firmer, tilting his head at him. “Please?” His hands left his shoulders and went down to his hips, tugging him close enough for them to be pretty much flush against each other, before his lips quirked upwards playfully. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me, Mister Gallagher?”

He groaned, because his husband was so fucking lame sometimes, but looped his arms over his shoulders regardless. Mickey would never be able to resist giving Ian what he wanted to make him happy and Ian fucking knew that, but it didn’t stop him from giving his husband the worst scowl he could muster as Ian squeezed his hips again.

Fucker.

“One night, man,” Mickey told him, his façade dissipating a little as Ian gave him a little kiss, just a light press of their lips. “I’m fuckin’ serious, tomorrow night that scraggly fuck is going back to the streets, ‘kay?”

Mickey knew that the cat wouldn’t be going anywhere, Ian knew that the cat wouldn’t be going anywhere, which is probably why he had that dumb smile of his on his face as he leaned in to kiss Mickey again, for longer that time, making him all melty and fucking weak like Ian usually got him.

His sixteen year old self would be in fucking disbelief if he saw him now. Mickey often thought back on that time. The denial, the self loathing, his destructive behaviour towards both himself and Ian. It wasn’t all that long ago that Mickey had apologised for one particularly nasty thing he could remember calling Ian.

They had just gotten into bed for the night, the room dark, Ian’s hand on his thigh drawing invisible little shapes on the skin there.

Mickey had been mulling over that memory for a while in his head, a scrunched up disgusted expression on his face as he recalled calling Ian nothing but a warm mouth. It had left a vile taste on his tongue to even say it the first time, but to think back on it made his chest burn with hatred for his younger self. Ian had deserved more than him back then. Mickey was only worthy of him now that he had changed for him.

“M’sorry for all the shit I called you,” Mickey watched as Ian turned to face him, clearly confused. “Back then, man, all the shit I said,” he was slowly getting better at apologies, so he paused for a moment as Ian nodded a little, an understanding smile on his face. “You were always more than that, you know. Always meant something more to me, Gallagher.”

Which is why Mickey wouldn’t be kicking that fucking cat out, as much as the thought of having a cat around the place wasn’t that pleasing.

Ian was still smiling like he didn’t believe him, and squeezed his hips again as he pecked his lips one last time. “‘Kay.”

Mickey cleared his throat as Ian finally stepped backwards, his skin feeling a little hot, because there was a gun tucked into the waistband of his boxers, yes, but part of him was now definitely excited to see his husband.

Like he could fucking help it when Ian pulled that shit.

“Can we go back to bed now?” Mickey groaned, and even though both of them knew they wouldn’t be going back to sleep yet, Ian gave a huge smile as he nodded, hooking an arm around his husband’s shoulders as he started to walk them back to the bedroom. “And the cat’s not comin’ into our room, no fuckin’ way.”

Ian just laughed, patting his shoulder. “Sure, Mick.”

As expected, Mickey got up to let the cat into their room a little past three o’clock in the morning, and when he woke up it was asleep on his chest.

Little fucker.

#iris actually writes #gallavich #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich fanfiction #ian x mickey fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fandom #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

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gasolinerainbowreads · 6 months

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↓ ICON LEGEND ↓

🌈 = title 🪆 = series, multiple parts, etc. 💎 = hidden gem/should have more reblogs/followers imo 🔋 = make sure your vibrator is charged before reading 😈 = Horny Demon Hours™ approved 🥹 = hurts so good/ouch, my feelings 🧠 = did somethin to my brain/altered my brain chemistry

Here's what I read in September along with a comment/thought/favorite excerpt:

@atticrissfinch

🌈 Now I See Daylight ⇨ 🪆🥹 we get punished, and we do not like it. This made me feel VERY BRATTY reading it lmaoooo. DO NOT GIVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT, DADDY.

@softlyspector

🌈 Moss & Mushrooms ⇨ 😈🧠 IT’S GIVING THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER WITH BONUS DICK DOWNS, AND I AM GOBBLING IT UP! SUPERB. 🌈 Blush ⇨ 🪆🥹🧠 IMPECCABLE. INSANELY IMMERSIVE. SICKENING TALENT. MAKES ME WANT TO GO TAKE A NAP IN A MUD PIT. GETTING THE SIDE OF THE OREO THAT HAS THE CRÈME FILLING ON THE WAFER. YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF SLURPEE IS READY TO BE DISPENSED. YOUR HANGNAIL DOESN’T TEAR OFF. YOUR SHOELACES DON’T DRAG ON THE GROUND BC THEY’RE TOO LONG. THIS IS THAT. NO I WON’T BE EXPLAINING ANY OF IT.

@thetriumphantpanda

This series really covers a whole lotta kinks for me lmao. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Creampies. Daddy kink. 🌈 Come Away with Me (Tuesday) ⇨🪆🔋🥹 “Imagine this is it?” He mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, leaning forward, “Imagine the time it takes is the time I fuck you against a tree like this.” 🌈 Come Away with Me (Wednesday) ⇨🪆🔋🥹 “Gonna fill me up, daddy?” You ask, the word slipping out of your mouth before you can catch it. 🌈 Come Away with Me (Thursday) ⇨🪆🔋🥹 “You’re in love with me, aren’t you?” He asks quietly, it’s soft, there isn’t an ounce of judgement or remorse to be found in his voice, and it’s not there in his eyes when you push yourself off his lap and turn to look at him. “Isn’t it obvious?” You ask him, “You’re in love with me too.” You don’t accuse him, it’s a statement of fact, because you know he’s been in love with you since the night he stayed when you were trying for Joshua.

@joelscruff

🌈 Beyond Infatuation ⇨ 🔋🧠 “Jesus,” Tommy mutters, and you open your eyes enough to see them both staring at your fucked-out hole, watching Joel’s come dribble downward into the sheets, “Filled her up real good.”

@swiftispunk

🌈 In My Hometown Headcanons ⇨ 🪆🥹 Omg it's the Lil Sebastian of Joel fics 💕 he can hardly remember how it felt to fear this, to fear being with you. now, he can’t shut up about you, giddy every time he gets to call you that word. it’s such a simple thing, reminds him of being young - “my girlfriend’s pickin’ sarah up tonight,” “my girlfriend chose this shirt for me,” “my girlfriend and i are goin’ out later” - doesn’t matter the context, he loves referring to you that way, even if it’s a little trivial maybe, even if it doesn’t quite capture how deep his feelings really run for you. if he’s honest, it might be that he likes the word “my” better than “girlfriend.” 🌈 Your Summer Dream, Day 6 - Savour ⇨🪆🔋🥹 Get you a man who blows your back out so good he blows his own back out, too lmaoooooo 🌈 Your Summer Dream, Day 3 bonus ⇨ 🪆🔋🥹🧠 my brain skipped the tracks on this one, babes. derailed me for a hot minute. the whole in the doorframe thing just makes my brain go fucking static. 🌈 Mad Love drabble ⇨🔋😈🧠 “kill him,” you say and joel finally looks over at you, sees you with your hand over your cunt, another smirk playing at his lips at the sight.

@ezrasbirdie

my bb rly scratchin that somnophilia itch with these 🌈 Claim ⇨🔋😈 “That’s right, baby, that’s right. Goddamn, you sleep heavy,” he murmurs. He slides another finger in and makes the same noise, fucking you gently with both of them, pulling your legs open further, and repositioning himself between them. “One more, sweetheart, one more for me,” he says. A harsh sigh emerges from you as he pushes a third digit inside of you. It almost hurts. You want it to hurt more. 🌈 More ⇨ 🔋😈 the debauchery is unhinged and perfect

@toxicanonymity

🌈 Clock ⇨ 🪆🔋😈 this lil dehydrated, crybaby bitch is the loml some days. 🌈 Needs ⇨🪆💎🔋🥹 Part of her "Finally Fucking Friday". Virginity loss. Soft!Joel. 🌈 Fires ⇨🪆💎🔋🥹 POV switching done well. inadvertently hilarious reader.

@sugarcoated-lame

🌈 untitled ⇨💎🔋🥹 idgaf if this isn't technically a proper fic. it's more of a ramble/thots type thing, but i enjoyed it immensely and am putting it on this list because it made me horny and also bc i fucking want to.

@gracieispunk

🌈 Bloody ⇨ 🪆🔋🥹 my fave menace is back aka tenant girl who is innocent and perfect. the panic at being in missionary sent me. 🌈 Heat Wave ⇨🔋 Joel is just ssooo thoughtful when he hears you moaning in your sleep and decides to help. What a gentleman.

@millerscoffee

🌈 Heat Lightning ⇨ 💎🔋😈🥹 sub!Joel. mommy kink. aftercare.

@bageldaddy

🌈 I Know It When I See It, Pt 5 ⇨🪆🔋😈🥹 HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS JUST KEEP GETTING BETTER?!?!?! --- also, i want to punch the fucking air over the fact that i cannot go onto pornhub and type in "Lucky+Texas+bondage" and have this come up. life is NOT FAIR.

@frannyzooey FREE MY BITCH FROM TUMBLR JAIL!

🌈 In The Dark blurb ⇨ 🪆🔋😈 *screams into the void* --- hot. HOT. I'm obsessed with In The Dark (go read that entire series right now if you haven't. It's so beyond amazing.). This was just icing on the cake. 🌈 Squirming ⇨🔋 the way I would be THRASHING so I could get a "goodnight treat" lmaoooooooo 🌈 Short Days, Long Nights 13 ⇨🪆🔋🥹 The words come pouring out of his mouth before he can stop them, but once they’re out, he can’t stop saying them. Burying his face in your chest, he says the words directly over your pounding heart. “I love you, honey. Fuck, I love you.”

@iamskyereads

🌈 Compulsion, Pt 6 ⇨🪆🔋😈🧠 One of THE BEST versions of Ezra I've ever come across in fic. SO GOOD. SERIOUSLY SO FUCKING GOOD.

@netherfeildren

🌈 The Cassandra Complex, Pt 3 ⇨🪆🔋😈🧠 This story is so well-written, the plot is beautifully crafted, the imagery is wonderful. No surprises there, right? It's Vic lmao. It ain't gonna be anything but amazing! Having said that... the smut in this chapter..... whew. WHEW. You outdid yourself, Vic.

@velvetmud

🌈 home video blurb ⇨🔋😈 But you don’t find the words or the energy to conjure up an answer. You’ve become too lost, too deep in the moment giving your own boyfriend’s dad another long orgasm he’s been saving up just for your face. “Gonna tell him his dad’s thick cock fucked and wrecked this throat all night?” he asks, pointer finger dragging down your aching jaw. He continues with a whisper. “That I split that pussy open on it whenever you come over to see him, too?”

@psychedelic-ink

🌈 Ravish ⇨🪆🔋😈 Okay I love the set up of this story and also the way Joel is chill about ~cam girls~. But I did bust up laughing when she saw his dick and was like wtf idk man idk if that's gonna fit and his ass hits her with the I've seen you shove bigger dildos into your pussy you'll be fine lmaooooooooo.

@tieronecrush

🌈 Only Angel, Ch 2 ⇨🪆🥹 “I’ll be waiting for a call, Javi. And I’ll see you Monday, Professor Peña.” You give him one last look, giggling as you shut the door and he hits the top of the taxi before you drive away, standing there with an idiotic smile on his face.

@cavillscurls

🌈 Eyes on Me ⇨🔋😈 Tommy watches you fuck Joel. Just go read it already! 🌈 Lover Man ⇨🥹 Soft and fluffy. You play with Joel's hair bc he is bb grl and deserves tenderness.

@walkintotheriveranddisappear

🌈 Waiting Room ⇨🪆🥹 I love this series, and this part carries so much of the story. The break down of relationship dynamics and friendships and people just trying to figure shit out was *chef's kiss*

@haylzcyon

🌈 Slow ⇨🔋 *chanting* EZRA EZRA EZRA EZRA “Fuck me slow, Ezra.”

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

🌈 Everything ⇨ 🪆🥹 from one of my all-time fave series Adversity. I'm not going to write too much of a blurb here bc I will go absolutely off the rails about Adversity if prompted lmaooooo.

@mandoblowmybackout

🌈 Eyes on Me ⇨🔋 Ezra gets his ass ate and fingered. *wipes tear* It's just so beautiful.

@leslie-lyman

🌈 Focus ⇨🔋 Ezra hypnokink that makes me very horny every time I read it.

@pascalisbaby

🌈 Heaven ⇨ 🔋 sub!Joel just wants to make us feel good, as he should. 🌈 Control ⇨🔋 now we're subbing and think we wanna dom but you know what sometimes it's just best if Joel doms 😅

@hier--soir

🌈 Whole New Can of Worms ⇨🪆🔋🥹 yyyooooo I wanna be BFF with Joel if it means getting dicked down that good. jesus!

@cupofjoel

🌈 Switching the Positions ⇨🔋🥹 The domesticity. The fluff. The fucking. Perfection.

@chloeangelic

🌈 Reflection of the Moon, Ch 5 ⇨🪆🔋🥹 Joel Miller ascending to baby daddy status. We love to see it.

@the-scandalorian

🌈 Mine ⇨🔋😈 🗣️ PRONE BONE ANAL

@northernbluess

🌈 Art of Healing, Ch 5 ⇨🪆🥹 I. Am. OBSESSED. with this series. Marcus Pike, art therapist. It's a slow build, and the story is PHENOMENAL. I have gone back and re-read chapters of this so many times. I adore this story!!

WHEW HOLY SHIT I DID IT.

I know this is basically a month late. I apologize. I'm gonna go ahead and apologize in advance for whenever the October wrap up rolls around bc I'm pretty sure I read even more this past month than I did in September. *screams into pillow*

If all the writers in this fandom could please stop being so fucking talented and amazing please that would really help my To Be Read list.

😩

SEE Y'ALL NEXT MONTH

#monthly wrap up

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lilacmingi · 4 months

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GRINCH AU

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Grinch!Jongho x Martha May Whovier!fem reader

Word count: 2,428

Note: I was rereading this one and I forgot how much I loved it 😭 I took a different route and put Y/n in Martha May Whovier’s place while also putting my own twist on the story and adding my own scenes. Christmas is in 3 days so thank you all for your love and support for the Christmas imagines series! I’ve loved reading your reblogs and comments! I hope you all enjoy this one and have a Merry Christmas!! 💚❤️ Reminder: This imagine is from Wattpad so there will be no continuations or extra parts

Years ago when you were still in school, you had a classmate who stood out from the rest. His name was Jongho.

His messy, green hair stuck out from the other Whos and the sour look constantly etched onto his features was one everyone talked about. He kept to himself most of the time, staying seated in the back of the classroom, not paying attention and not speaking to anyone unless spoken to first.

You felt bad for him. Part of you always thought he liked being by himself, but another part of you thought he might enjoy some company. So, one day you approached him.

"Hi." You greeted.

His uniquely-colored bright green eyes met yours.

"Hi." He returned, his tone short.

"I'm Y/n."

"I know."

"What's your name?"

You already knew his name, you'd heard it during roll call before, but you wanted him to introduce himself.

"Jongho."

"I like your hair." You complimented.

The sour look on his face fell just a bit.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Were you born like that?"

He nodded.

"That's so cool."

"It is?" He asked, bringing his hand up to touch his viridescent locks.

"Yes. I like it a lot. It's very unique."

That was the first time you'd ever seen him smile.

"Can I sit in front of you?" You asked him.

He gave a small nod in response.

After that day, you started talking to him, saying hello and asking how his day was going. You were unaware of how much Jongho appreciated that. No one had ever showed him kindness like you had. He was used to being ignored, so all this attention from you was new to him, as was the warm feeling in his chest.

Christmas approached and Jongho wanted to do something special for you. He remembered you mentioning during a recent conversation about Christmas that you liked angels. He didn't have the money to buy you one, so he did the next best thing.

He stayed up late, rummaging through his adoptive parents' kitchen, taking anything he might be able to use for his little DIY project. It took him nearly all night, but once he was finished, he knew his hard work had paid off and he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.

The next day, you walked into the school dressed in your most festive outfit. As you headed towards your classroom, someone ran up beside you, catching your attention.

"Y/n!"

You turned to see Taehyun, a fellow classmate. He always kind of got on your nerves. He was cocky and often bullied other people, especially ones who weren’t snobby and rich like he was, which you didn't like at all. Not one bit.

"What do you want?"

"I got you a present." He grinned, pulling out a necklace with huge diamonds on it.

It was ugly. However, your mom always told you to be grateful, so you thanked him.

"Put it on." He held it towards you.

"Maybe later."

"Come on."

You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so you gave in, holding your hair up and allowing him to clip the necklace around your neck.

You weren't aware of this, but Jongho, who was on his way to give you your gift, had seen you with Taehyun and hurriedly hid behind a nearby wall. He peeked his head around the corner, watching as Taehyun clipped a flashy necklace around your neck, the dozens of diamonds sparkling under the fluorescent lights in the hallway. He felt his heart sink as he turned his back on the painful scene and walked off.

Taehyun gave a thumbs up of approval at the necklace before heading to class. As soon as he was out of sight, you pulled the gaudy thing off, shoving it into your bag. It was the ugliest necklace you had ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear and it was far too big for your tiny child-sized neck.

You continued down the small hallway of the school and into your classroom, acting as if nothing had happened. When Jongho saw you walk in, he sat up straighter. He noticed you weren't wearing that ugly necklace he saw Taehyun put on you moments earlier, which made him feel a bit better.

You walked over to the seat in front of his, which you'd been sitting in for the past few weeks, placing your backpack down.

"Hi, Y/n." Jongho greeted you.

"Hi, Jongho." You smiled. “Are you excited for Christmas?"

"I am." He nodded. "I have something for you, by the way."

His tone was soft and he seemed a little nervous.

"You do? Like a present?"

He gave a short nod as he started rummaging around in his backpack. He pulled out an object and handed it to you. You glanced down at the flashy item, observing it carefully. Once you realized what it was, you gasped.

It was an angel made of what appeared to be kitchen appliances, small gems, and pieces of stained glass.

"You made this for me?" You asked, unable to believe he would go to such lengths.

Unlike when Taehyun gifted you that necklace, you didn’t have to fake your gratitude for Jongho’s heartfelt present. It was stunning and best of all, made by him.

"I did." He nodded.

"It's so beau—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Taehyun walked up, cutting you off.

"Really, freak?" He scoffed. "This is the best you can do? This is just a pile of garbage."

Before you knew what was happening, Taehyun snatched the angel from your hands and threw it on the ground.

Jongho looked down at the present he worked so hard to make that was currently in pieces on the classroom floor. Much like this now destroyed gift, his heart was shattered.

"Taehyun!" You shouted at the boy as you dropped to the floor, picking up the pieces and setting them onto your desk.

You didn't even notice Jongho rush out of the room until he was already gone and out of sight.

You turned to glare at Taehyun, mustering up all the anger you could. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the necklace he gifted you from your bag and shoved it into his hand.

"I don't want this." You told him.

That was years ago; you were probably eleven years old at the time. You never forgave Taehyun for what he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to constantly win you over.

Jongho never came back after that day. You didn't know what happened to him until about three years ago.

There were whispers in Whoville about a "scary" green-haired man that lived on Mount Crumpit, the ominous, snow-capped mountain that loomed above the town. You knew immediately that it had to be Jongho, though the Whos didn't call him that, they referred to him as The Grinch. You weren't sure why. Perhaps it was because of that sour look constantly plastered on his face. If that were the case, he hadn't changed at all.

Every night, you found yourself gazing up at the monstrous mountain, wondering what Jongho was up to and if he was doing okay.

"Nothing's stopping me from seeing him." You voiced your thoughts aloud.

You were in the midst of planning a Christmas party, though you weren't sure if anyone would show. The Mayor, aka Taehyun, was having a party the same night. You only invited two people, but Taehyun's Christmas parties were always the talk of the town, so you weren't even sure the only two friends you had would show up.

You sighed, turning your attention back to Mount Crumpit, a brilliant idea popping into your head.

The next day, you set out on your own, climbing up Mount Crumpit, a Christmas party invitation clutched in your hand.

It took an agonizingly long time for you to reach the top, and by that time, your fingers, toes, and nose were completely numb. Despite that, you approached the door that was nestled in the mountain, giving a few knocks on the weathered wood.

Nothing.

You tried again.

Still nothing. Just the sound of the frigid wind whistling as it blew past, whipping strands of your hair around.

You knocked once more, only to get the same result. You then resorted to plan B and moved closer to the door.

"Jongho?" You called out. "It's me, Y/n. I don't know if you remember me."

You paused for a moment in case he happened to hear you.

"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th. I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."

You paused for a moment before continuing.

"I never knew what happened to you all those years ago. I only recently found out where you've been hiding. Truth is, I miss you. I'd like to see you again."

You took the invitation and slid it underneath the door.

"I'll just leave that there." You stood up. "Goodbye, Jongho. I hope to see you soon."

You started your descent down the mountain, hoping that Jongho heard you. If not, the invite had been delivered and it's in his hands now.

Inside the mountain stood Jongho. He heard your knocking, but ignored it, thinking it was some dumb kids trying to prank him, but then he heard your voice. Your sweet voice that was always laced with kindness.

He shot up from his chair, hurriedly scurrying towards the doorway. Your voice sounded so gentle and comforting. It was nice to know you hadn't changed. He listened intently as you spoke.

"I don't know if you remember me."

What? Of course he remembered you. You were the only person who bothered to pay him any mind. The only person to show him any sort of compassion and kindness.

He wanted to speak, let you know that he was there and he was listening, but for some reason the words were stuck in his throat.

"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th."

His face scrunched in distaste at the mention of the obnoxiously cheerful holiday. After he ran away all those years ago, he held such bitter feelings towards Christmas. He despised it, hated it. The holiday was ruined for him. He was humiliated that day in front of you and couldn't bare to be in that classroom any longer, so he ran out. He didn't even think about how that would make you feel. Truthfully, he thought you forgot about him. Everyone else did... for a while, anyway.

Three years ago, he returned to Whoville for certain items he couldn't obtain himself and, even with a disguise, people seemed to recognize him. After that, people started harassing him. Kids—mostly teenagers, would dare each other to go up to his home and knock on his door. It was annoying and he wished people would just leave him alone.

Except maybe you, of course. Though Jongho shut himself off from everyone and had a hatred for every Who in town, he had a fondness towards you. You were the one and only exception.

"I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."

His eyes widened upon hearing that.

You wanted to catch up? As in talk? To him?

There was a strange feeling in his chest as he thought about you wanting to spend time with him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for at least ten years.

He listened as you said your goodbyes, watching as an invitation was slid under the front door. He waited a moment before he walked over to take the invite. Even though Jongho hated Christmas, he had to admit, the invitation was pretty. Inside was the address of your home along with the date and time that the party would take place, all written in your beautiful handwriting.

His fingers unconsciously traced over the letters before turning to his dog, Max.

"What do you think?" He asked the animal. "Should I go?"

The dog barked in response.

"Yeah, but I don't have anything nice to wear."

Max barked again.

"I know I don't have to dress nice, but it's for Y/n."

The dog only stared at him.

"Fine." He huffed, throwing his arms in the air. "I'll go find something. Just stop nagging me, will ya?"

Your party was a bust so far. It was nearly time for it to start and no one had shown. Just when you were ready to give up, there was a knock on the front door, making you perk up. You hurriedly went to answer it, surprised to see who was standing on the other side.

"Jongho?"

His uniquely-colored green hair was neatly pushed back, showing off his insanely handsome features and round face. He wore black slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a red vest that fit his body snugly.

You were rendered speechless as you looked at him. You didn't mean to stare, but you didn't expect him to show, not only that, but he looked incredible.

You had a crush on him back in school. Part of you thought that would go away, but seeing him in front of you proved that your feelings for him hadn't gone anywhere.

His eyes stayed glued to the the ground as he fiddled with his fingers. You fought the urge to hug him, afraid it would be too much, especially after not seeing him for so many years.

"I can't believe you showed up." Your eyes drifted down to a small scruffy-looking dog sitting by Jongho's feet. "And you brought a friend?"

"This is Max." He told you, his voice quiet.

"Why don't the two of you come inside? You're just in time."

Upon entering your house, Jongho found that he was the only one there. He saw a table with four plain gingerbread houses sitting out along with icing and other candy decorations as well as a decently-sized spread of food.

"I thought you were having a party." He spoke up.

"I am. I invited a couple people and you, but they were no-shows. Probably at the mayor's party." You gestured to a gaudy invitation on your coffee table.

"Is that from..." Jongho trailed off.

"Yeah." You rolled your eyes.

Jongho couldn't hold back the sour expression on his face.

I still can't believe that jerk managed to become mayor of Whoville. He thought bitterly.

Jongho walked around, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed and out of place, even though he was the only person in your house. It wasn't you—you hadn't changed at all. It was the fact that it had been so long and he hadn't really spoken to anyone since running away. He wasn't sure how to initiate a conversation, let alone what to say, so he resorted to looking around.

You began going on about what all you had planned for the party as he wandered around.

"I have food if you're hungry. Max is welcome to have some too. I also have different activities to do if you get bored. We can decorate gingerbread houses, make our own ornaments, or have a Christmas movie marathon." You listed, not knowing that Jongho's attention was elsewhere.

His eyes gazed upon the massive Christmas tree in your living room, as he looked at the glittering lights and decorations adorning the branches, but that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the angel that donned the top of the tree. His angel. The one he made for you.

"So." You clasped your hands together as you approached Jongho. "What first?"

You stopped when you saw him staring at something. Following his gaze, you realized it was the angel at the top of your tree.

"You kept it?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from it.

"I did."

"I thought it was broken."

"I fixed it."

"I can't believe it."

"That gift meant a lot to me. You ran out before I could tell you, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." You stared up at the decoration. "I love that little angel."

Jongho was about to speak, but was stopped by a sudden knocking at your front door.

"Maybe we have some company after all." You beamed, going to answer the door.

Your smile dropped immediately when you saw Taehyun standing at your doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" You asked snappily.

"You're not at my party. Didn't you get my invitation in the mail?"

"I did."

"Then what are you doing here all by your lonesome?" He inquired, tilting his head.

Jongho didn't have to see the guy's face to know who it was. He clenched his fists, making his presence known as he stalked up to the doorway to stand beside you.

"She's not alone."

Taehyun's eyebrows raised as a look of amusement colors his features.

"Oh, I see." He scoffed. "You're busy spending time entertaining this freak."

"That's enough." You snapped. "Don't you have a party to get back to?"

"I can spare a few minutes."

"There's no need. I don't want you here."

"I'm the mayor. I don't have to listen to you." He spoke, trying to push past you and force his way into your home.

Jongho stepped forward, protectively pulling you behind him as he stared down Taehyun.

"She said leave."

"I'm not afraid of you." He scoffed.

"Leave. Now. I'm not going to tell you again."

"What are you gonna do about it?" He taunted. "Go hide in your little cave again like you did all those years ago?"

To your surprise, Jongho roughly shoved Taehyun away, causing him to stumble back and fall into the snow. He landed with a grunt, glaring up at the green-haired boy beside you. At that point, Max had scampered over to the front door to see what was going on and had started growling at Taehyun.

"Don't you dare bother her again." Jongho snapped before slamming the door shut.

He then turned to you, his expression softening.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded. "Just annoyed with him. Thanks for sticking up for me like that."

"It's nothing." He shrugged.

You knew he was just being modest.

"I have to admit, I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He added, making you chuckle.

"He definitely deserved that, and more." You locked the front door, before turning back go Jongho. "Now that he's gone, we can get the party started. What do you say?"

He only nodded, seeming a bit bashful.

You put on some Christmas music and immediately began preparing hot cocoa for you and your guest. Once that was finished, you urged Jongho to participate in at least one of the activities you planned. He decided on ornament decorating.

As the two of you decorated your ornaments, you talked about what had been going on in your lives, you more than him.

"You know, the day you ran off, Taehyun got me the ugliest necklace." You cringed at the memory. "I don't even now why. I guess he was trying to win me over. That boy is relentless, always has been it seems.”

Jongho knew which necklace you were talking about, but pretended he didn't.

"Do you still have the necklace?" He asked in an almost hesitant manner.

"No." You shook your head. "I gave it back to him after he broke your gift to me. I hated it anyway. It was the ugliest and gaudiest thing I'd ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear."

Jongho couldn't help but smile knowing you gave the necklace back to Taehyun. Not only that, but it was clear how much you disliked Taehyun, and that gave him a confidence boost.

"Y/n, I wanted to tell you this earlier before we were interrupted, but knowing you pieced together that angel gives me this warm feeling in my chest. I'm not really used to it, but it's a good feeling. The last time I felt like this was in school when I was spending time with you."

You were surprised by this confession, his sweet words making a warm feeling of your own spread in your chest.

"You approached me that day and spoke to me. No one had ever done that."

"I just thought you needed some company."

"Deep down, I think I did." Jongho stopped to get a look at his ornament. "I think I'm done. Sorry if it looks bad. I don't usually do stuff like this."

"Let's see it." You leaned over.

Jongho's cheeks got warm at your close proximity. You didn't notice as you were too busy looking at the ornament he decorated.

He painted it green and added red swirls on it. It was simple and a little messy, but cute nonetheless.

"I like it." You smiled.

"You do?"

You nodded.

"You wanna keep it or do you wanna hang it on my tree?"

"I wanna hang it." He answered quietly.

"We can hang them together. I just finished mine." You showed your ornament to Jongho before the two of you placed them on the tree.

"Aren't you glad you did that?" You asked.

He nodded. "It was fun."

Jongho was beginning to feel himself become shy again and started having trouble looking you in the eye without getting flustered. You were so nice and so pretty.

"Y/n." He called out, keeping his eyes on the tree for a moment, trying to gather his nerves.

"Thank you for inviting me."

"I should thank you for showing up. If you weren't here, this would be the most boring party ever." You chuckled.

Jongho started to speak, but you cut him off.

"You wanna dance?"

"Oh. I... I don't really know how."

"It's easy. Follow me." You took both his hands, pulling him into the living room, Max following behind. You placed Jongho's hands on your waist before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You couldn't help but notice the faint pink tinting his cheeks.

"So this is how you stand, then you just sway back and forth, or you can take small steps left to right and slowly go in a circle. Whatever feels right."

"I'd like to just stay in one spot."

"Alright." You smiled softly, the two of you swaying side to side.

You studied Jongho's features, taking in every perfect detail of his face, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You only turned away for a moment, seeing that Max had made himself comfortable on the couch. You let out a chuckle before resting your head on Jongho's shoulder. He seemed a little tense at first, briefly making you worry you had overstepped, but he soon relaxed.

You weren't sure how long the two of you danced for and you didn't really care. You were just happy to be reunited with Jongho.

"Y/n." He spoke up, his tone gentle.

You hummed in response, pulling back to look him in eyes.

"I'm going to say something that I've wanted to say for a long time and you can say no. I won't be upset."

"What is it?" You inquired.

"I really like you. I have from day one."

You were too stunned to speak. You had no idea.

"Okay. I've made you uncomfortable. I'll let myself out."

"No." You spoke up, abruptly. "I like you too, even way back in school. Seeing you tonight made me realize that my feelings towards you haven't gone away at all. In fact, I think they've gotten stronger."

Jongho seemed equally surprised at your confession as you were at his.

"You're serious? This isn't a prank or anything?"

"No pranks." You shook your head.

Caught up in the moment, Jongho pulled your face towards his, catching himself just before his lips touched yours.

"It's okay." You whispered. "Go ahead."

That's all the confirmation he needed before he smashed his lips against yours, capturing them between his own in a full-fledged kiss. You were dizzy for a moment, not expecting him to go in hot and heavy—not that you were complaining.

Your hands found their way to Jongho's brightly-colored hair, running your fingers through it and feeling it's softness. A gasp left you as Jongho's hands lightly squeezed your waist before he snaked his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss seemed to last forever yet not long enough at the same time. Jongho pulled away, looking a bit flustered. You cupped his cheeks, lovingly stroking them with your thumbs.

"I want you to stay." You blurted.

"Stay?"

"Yeah. With me. Here. I don't want you to go disappear in that cave again."

Jongho didn't have to think about it for very long. It was either live in a nasty cave and be alone, forever having conversations with his dog, or live with you in your cozy home getting to see you every day. The choice was obvious.

"Okay." He agreed.

"Really?"

He nodded. "I'll get to be with you all the time, plus I can protect you from Taehyun when he starts bothering you again."

"I like the sound of that." You grinned, leaning in to kiss him once again.

Hongjoong ❄︎ Seonghwa ❄︎ Yunho ❄︎ Yeosang ❄︎ San ❄︎ Mingi ❄︎ Wooyoung

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi

#ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #choi jongho #jongho #jongho x reader #jongho x you #jongho x y/n #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines

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paperweight91 · 4 months

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Ok, Chelsea, what about this?

You just got back from staying with family over the holidays. When you go to make yourself some dinner you realize your cupboards are bare. So you rush out for an emergency grocery run. But oh no! When you get to the register, you realize you forgot your wallet. Luckily, there's a good samaritan in line behind you who offers to pay for your food.

Who is it?

Are they feeling generous or do they make you pay them back somehow??

Breakdown, Aisle 3

W/C:1012

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

A/N: Okay so I had two immediate thoughts pop into my head for this, and in an amazing show of restraint I only did one of them. (Yes I’m patting myself on the back) but I have to say this is such a fun prompt that I feel like it could have gone soooo many different ways. I hope you like it lovely ☺️ comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Your chest heaved on an exhale as you finally got on the highway. Christmas was always your favourite time of year, but your family was stressful to put it nicely. Knowing that you were just an hour away from home was enough to have you feeling so, so relaxed. You cranked up the radio to keep you awake on the drive and coasted home.

You came into your apartment feeling lighter, but also starving. That ravenous hunger that would only ever hit when you had pushed yourself for far too long without eating. Throwing your purse on the island, where it skidded across and fell off the other side making you huff. That was a later you problem, food first. You turned on a house flipping show for some background noise and started to look through your cabinets. Nothing. You checked your fridge. Not even milk.

Smacking your forehead you remembered why, donating a bunch of non-perishables for the holidays and throwing out your entire fridge before going to your parents maybe wasn’t the best idea you had. You groaned and stomped your foot, why you?

Collecting your purse off the floor you raced back down to the parking garage. You would pick up enough for dinner and something for breakfast before doing full groceries tomorrow. You went to the closest supermarket, a little on the higher end, but it would be fine for one night.

You made a beeline for the frozen food section, letting out a sad noise when nothing appealed to you. Maybe it was a snacks for dinner kind of night. A new plan in mind you grabbed all of your favourite snacks, and a few treats. You also grabbed a nice fresh loaf of French bread something you would rarely get just for yourself. Happy with your haul, you made your way to the barren checkout line.

Unloading your cart, you heard a huff behind you. Glancing up to see a striking man, with only one item. He was clean shaven with bright blue eyes, his hair swept back just so. He was glaring at the conveyer belt, a hand on his hip. You sighed, your hunger could wait for this impatient man, “do you want to go first?” As the question left your lips you heard the beep of your first item being scanned.

He rolled his eyes, and waved his hand dismissively. “Seems like it’s not an option now.”

Feeling heat in your face, you turned back to unloading as quickly as you could. Of course you would piss off the only stranger you run into in the supermarket. You rushed to bag your items, thankful you at least remembered your bags.

“That’ll be $85.50” the cashier looked so bored, you almost forgot they were there.

You pulled your purse up, rummaging through. Your movements got more urgent as your fingers kept missing the familiar square of your wallet. “No. No, no, no!”

The man behind you huffed again. “Really?”

You turned to him, panic written clearly across your face, causing his expression to morph from irritation to concern. Tears beaded in your eyes as you continued what you knew now was a wasteful search. “My, my wallet. It’s not…” you covered your face with your hands. You were so hungry. The stupid thing must be laying on your floor somewhere.

The stranger sighed this time, passing his lone box of cookies to the cashier, “Add this to the bill.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and quickly paid for the entire haul.

“Put the cart away.” His tone was soft, but it was clearly an order as he picked up all of your bags, tossing his cookies on top of on haphazardly. You stood in shock for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you and pointed at the cart. You jumped and quickly grabbed the cart, wheeling it back to the front of the store and putting it back in neatly. You heard a snort behind you.

Turning to glare at the haughty stranger, you found yourself softening as he gripped your grocery bags. You nodded and lead him out of the store towards your car. You popped the trunk, and he placed your bags carefully in the back. “Thank you,” you murmured. “I’m sorry about all that, I can’t believe I left my wallet at home.”

He closed your trunk, and leaned with one hand on the vehicle. He took in your full appearance. Starting from the old running shoes you had thrown on before leaving the house, coming all the way up to your hair, which you had thrown into a quick bun. “It’s nothing.” He said quietly. His petulant attitude seemed to have been left in the store.

“It’s not!” You’re quick to reply, “I just got back from spending the most exhausting visit with my family. And realized I was the idiot who decided to clean out my fridge before leaving. And then you swoop in to save me!”

The man still leaning against your, now has a road grin spreading across his face. “Ransom.” He says only that one word and you realize it’s his name. You give him yours and hold out your hand.

He takes your hand in a firm grasp. Not shaking, just holding. Your lashes flutter as you look up at him. “Would you maybe want to join me for a late night snack?” You’ve never done this before, what were you doing?

Ransom smirks and chortles slightly at your horror at your own words. “Well it’s the least you could do, since I did in fact buy it all.” He winked at you and you felt butterflies take off in your stomach. “Besides, I now need to know why your family is so exhausting. Because mine will make your head spin.” You laughed and reached back into your purse taking out your phone. The two of you exchanged numbers, and you texted him your address.

Maybe forgetting your wallet at home wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #breakddown aisle 3 #knives out #chris evans #krirebr #paperweightanswers #paperweight drabbles

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voidedsoul5 · 2 months

Text

OKAY HERE WE GO, ANALYSIS AND THEORY TIME.

Spoilers for the new TMP episode (Ep 8)

NOT ONLY did we get my babygirl back (Who definitely has something going on with him but we'll go back to that later) we also got another hint about one of my other working theories about Celia and this universe... I am losing my mind rn and I need someone to talk to about this even if it's just screaming to the internet void. More below cut. Split it because it's a semi-long post.

I think Gertrude is for SURE coming back at some point, literally no reason for her not to especially considering I don't think TMP team is going to pull the 'But this time she's actually just an innocent old lady' thing. It's cheap, and she likely knows stuff that will come up later when (I believe) she still has worked at the institute before it burned down due to her age. Plus, someone had to have cleared out those files.

Gerry is happy and it makes sense. Gerry in TMA was trying to be a kind person, but he'd witnessed too much and seen too much to be able to do that. In this world, if the fears didn't exist Mary would've likely not been AS deranged. OR mary might not have existed at all given Gertrude claimed Gerry as his grandson. Removing Mary, Gerry really doesn't have a reason to be so reserved and abrasive. HOWEVER. I think there's a possibility that isn't his actual personality. The happiness (as mentioned in the unofficial transcript) is maybe a bit too played up. I wouldn't mind if this is just how he was, a slightly erratic messy artist. But pairing him specifically WITH gertrude in this universe stood out to me. So here's my mini theory.-I'm not saying it's drugs, or Gertrude is casting black magic or something, but I do think she's doing something to keep Gerry out of this 'mess'. Even if that's just living with him and helping him have a normal life as a painter. Gertrude has always had a soft spot for gerry in TMA, in this universe where she's probably not as battle-hardened, trying to keep him safe and out of it all isn't out of character. Mostly, this idea just came from the fact that she tried to brush it off, then seemed disappointed when Gerry spoke about the gifted kids program, despite him being well enough able to speak for himself. She probably doesn't want him involved. This however all relies on the context that Gertrude knows stuff. Honestly, she might just be his grandma that he now lives with either for rent reasons or because his parents might be dead. It could honestly be that simple, I just like rattling off ideas.

CELIA KEEPS DROPPING HINTS OF KNOWING SHIT. SHE KNOWS SOMETHING. SHE KNOWS THINGSSSS. I have another post about my TMA theory of these reoccurring characters from TMA beginning to remember things from the TMA world. Its so incredibly on the nose for her to immediately start asking questions about the 14 fears WE KNOW, ask about alternate universes, AND BE THE ONE WHO PUSHED SAM TO LOOK INTO MORE STUFF ABOUT THE PROGRAM (Sam said it was her idea at the end of Ep 8) I don't know exactly how thisll work, but I get more and more convinced each episode that this theory has some merit.

And this is a small one, but blah blah Norris reading a paper about loneliness, isolation, and hostile architecture blah blah blah metaphors symbolism blah blah you get the jist

I rlly just wanna talk about this show to anyone, I don't have friends who've seen TMA or TMP so my only option is talking about it here. PLS feel free to talk about your own opinions and ideas in reblogs and shit. I don't care if they counter mine I just wanna talk about this show I love it sm </3

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus protocol #sam tmagp #gerry keay #gerry kaey #tmagp theory

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mrsmothmom · 1 year

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I recently had to deal with some horrible people invading my stream with them saying some not so nice things to me and about others.

I’m still fresh and new to streaming and don’t have mods. How am I supposed to combat this?

buckle up

if you're a streamer reading this, and you have a tip that i haven't mentioned here, please feel free to reblog and add on~

how to deal with assholes

part 1: you are the dad of this rodeo

never forget the most important part of streaming. you are in control. you turn the stream on, you turn it off. you have all the power.

with that out of the way, let's talk about chat moderation.

part 2: a viewer is never more valuable then your time

when new streamers encounter people who are kinda mean, they sometimes feel like they have to put up with it because no one else is watching. this is incorrect.

you do not have to put up with anything - this is your stream and this is your community (even if that community is just you for now). tell mean people to be cool or move on. that is always your right.

part 3: ban them

if someone comes into your stream and makes you and your community uncomfortable, ban them. ask questions, think deeply, feel feelings about it later.

when you ban them, their messages for the last while will go away. they can appeal later and cry about it on their own time. if you ban by mistake, simply unban them and apologize. nice people who enjoy your stream will understand. rude people who don't care about you will be a problem about it. you don't want people in category 2 in your stream anyway.

part 4: what you react to is what you get

the bigger your reaction to something, the more of it you will receive. twitch is all about reactions (just ask xQc).

therefore if people are being mean, they are doing it to see you react. they want evidence that the bullying is working. therefore...

do not let them see you sad

do not let them see you mad

do not let them see you cry

do not argue

do not negotiate

the best reaction you can have to a group of rowdy bullies is the stone-faced enforcement of your power.

part 5: what to do, step by step

in the event that your stream is overtaken by a whole group of assholes (maybe just some bullies, maybe a hate raid), i encourage you to take the following steps:

stop, take a deep breath. all problems are solvable, and all disasters recoverable. do not let panic take over

go on break and mute your mic. don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you upset (the more overwhelming the attack, the more abrupt your break should be - don't bother explaining why you're leaving. if you have time to say anything at all, say that you'll be back in a moment and nothing else)

put chat in emote only mode

put chat is sub only mode

if you can, run some ads (if they're gonna be assholes, you might as well get paid)

if there are an actionable number of people causing the problem (read less than 30 or so), ban them by hand now. you can do more advanced clean up later if you need to. if it's too many to ban, you've gotta end the stream.

once the folks have been cleared out, get back on stream, apologize to your real viewers for the interruption, restore chat and continue on your way. don't bother giving air time to assholes. when it's over, it's over.

if you are too upset to continue stream, don't.

if you use a stream bot, stream deck, or alternative (touch portal, deckboard, etc), you can set many of these actions to a button that you can press to automatically go into SOS mode. i strongly recommend this.

part 6: aftermath

your community will move on as soon as you do. take a moment to calm down, decompress, and remember that those people don't know you and their opinion means nothing. don't let the community dwell on it - that is what they want, for you to be sad for as long as possible.

if you've got a whole ton of bots clogging up your followers, use commander roots tools to clear them out:

part 7: prevention

prevent known bots and assholes from crawling into your stream by using commander roots tools (to pre-ban folks) and sery_bot:

part 8: other security measures

never stream live from a public (as is people you don't bring in can appear) discord channel. if you are live, make sure you have total control over what appears on stream

never click links without checking them off-live first. what your friend thinks is harmless fun might be ban-able by twitch TOS

avoid streaming your entire desktop

people are not entitled to everything they want right when they want it (NO MATTER HOW MUCH MONEY THEY GIVE YOU). people who care about you will wait until your ready and willing do say / do / answer / preform etc. etc.

set community rules and hold everyone and yourself to them.

put disclaimers on links to gift / donate / tip you saying that everything is considered a gift and is non refundable or exchangeable.

part 9 (FINAL): respect yourself

it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks is ok. all that matters is that you feel safe and comfortable. remember:

hit them with the biggest hammer you have, and never look back.

i hope this is helpful. godspeed.

#vtuber uprising #indie vtuber #cyber security #internet safety #safe care #mom answers #discostardust #take care of yourself space cowboy

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scoobydoodean · 1 year

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You know what just really frost my cookies with the whole "Dean doesn't care as much about Cas" discourse??? That post you reblogged about how strong their relationship was in s4/s5 got me thinking about this, but like they had two seasons of such intense relationship building and camaraderie, that Dean was literally fighting Bobby and Sam (his two most important people!!!) over not trusting Cas in s6, and it was DEAN who tried to keep a relationship with Cas s6 - s8, like that man tried everything to keep their relationship going - and that's not to blame Cas, he had his own shit going on (well except for s6, I do blame him for that lol his position is understandable, but it was still his fault), but Dean tried and it still just never worked.

Maybe this is just me, but I've always kind of viewed their relationship in the later seasons as, Dean worked hard to keep them going for so long that eventually it kind of just...hit him that maybe Cas didn't want that? So he stopped trying quite as hard, he remembered the times Cas left, and he interpreted them as rejections, which is in part why the Divorce Arc happened - it was a culmination of many many MANY things, not just the "obvious". That's just my interpretation though, and obviously others have and can interpret it differently.

In summary I see it as, early seasons Dean chasing and pining after Cas, eventually feels rejected and betrayed, later seasons Cas chasing and pining after Dean

Though to be fair and admit to my biases, I was watching s6-s8 in real time on TV, and then I drifted away mid s9 and didn't go back and watch the rest of the seasons until recently, so my strongest impressions of Destiel are of those earlier seasons, so I tend to view it in a different light I think than people who started watching later (or more specifically after Nov 5th and/or for Cas - not that anything is wrong w watching for those reasons lol)

Yeah I think it is very very silly to think that Dean doesn’t care about Cas as much as Cas cares about him. Like wildly so.

I think this line of thinking comes mainly from focusing too much on one character's POV. I think Dean came off a few times in season 6 like he saw his relationship with Cas as transactional—even though that isn’t imo how he actually felt about Cas (just like we can analyze Cas as thinking of his relationship with the Winchesters as very transactional but he does care about them despite how it appears). I think Dean was just kind of hurt because Cas had ghosted him for so long and he thought they were friends and they'd built this bond? So in season 6, he was reacting to what he thought were the boundaries Cas himself set—boundaries that suggested Cas—the guy controlling the means of communication—did not want a friendship with him. Cas ditched Dean in the car at the end of Swan Song and then just invisibly watched Dean rake leaves. Dean was right there. Dean could only pray to Cas. Cas wouldn’t respond. In season 6, without giving Dean a say—while watching Dean rake leaves and considering whether to ask for his help—Cas decided (again--unilaterally) he wouldn't involve Dean, and I do think that decision was out of love, and also probably because... well—he probably thought "what can Dean actually... do?" But ultimately, he wanted a person he cared about who had been through a lot to just be able to rest—that's what he says. Not including Dean (and Sam) continued after Dean came back to hunting as well, because 1) Cas was still thinking about protecting Dean 2) He didn't think Dean could do anything to help (which I think is... probably pretty reasonable—he originally considered including Dean I think mainly for his tenacity) 3) the whole thing had ballooned and Cas was making deals he probably didn't even fully agree with himself—so he was ashamed to some extent, but also knew... he wasn't going to stop, and that Dean would ask him to stop.

Cas is... well—I'm going to say "more morally flexible"... and I don't think that's always a bad thing. This is a useful quality in the line of work TFW is in, honestly. He is more ruthless than Sam and Dean and he also knows that he is, and I think he actually likes to position himself as the ruthless one. He likes being the person who is willing to do what is necessary to get shit done and he's willing to sacrifice a part of himself to do it... because he can take it. He planned to kill Jesse behind the Winchester's backs to spare them the unpleasantness (and the same, later, with Kelly and Jack—when Sam and Dean were looking for a way to save both of them and Cas just went to go find Kelly and kill her). He broke Sam's wall and killed a very good friend—Balthazar—because his friends were standing in his way and he was focused on his ultimate purpose which was stopping another apocalypse. He mind tortured Donatello because it needed to be done. I think that Dean understands that Cas wants to position himself as the ruthless one, and I think Dean also understands that this isn't always a bad quality. I also think it's an obvious point of contention, because Dean is the least morally flexible in the group and is the most tenacious, which I think Cas, in turn, appreciates about Dean—but it is going to lead to clashes between them as best friends with one being tenacious about choosing the least morally crooked path when possible, and the other saying "Can we please just get on with it? I'll do it if you don't want to—I don't mind."

And that's... to some extent, what is happening in season 6... besides the lying and the hurt besties feelings and secrets and betrayals. The actual soul swallowing plan? It's Dean's tenacious insistence on following a more prudent path versus Cas's "Let's get the fuck on with it"... and there's fairness to both sides of that imo... which is why I'm annoyed with certain individuals trying to make this a "sides" thing. It isn't the actual plan as much as it's what he did around it that's the issue, and Dean isn't obligated to agree with him or to trust him after he lied so many goddamn times. Like. Dean's trust was not something to which Cas was entitled, point blank.

You're right—Dean didn’t think Cas would ever lie to him like that in season 6. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. And I think fans do this thing actually where they hear Cas say in season 6 that he’s always trusted Dean and he always comes when Dean calls and they just buy into that and go “Yeah! That’s so true!” and build an entire analysis on that (and then post insufferable parallels between that and 4.21 thinking they are saying something about Dean's "trust issues" when they are... making a very different parallel lmao). What Cas is saying about always trusting Dean isn’t true—and what’s more, Cas knows it isn’t. He knows suggesting Dean doesn’t trust him enough isn’t fair. When he was spying on Sam and Dean and Bobby he made specific note of “Dean trying so hard to be loyal” and defending him fiercely. (In fact—was there anyone Dean trusted more at that point in his life—despite also clearly being hurt by Cas ghosting him? Bobby, maybe. That's about it.) When Cas came back and tried to retroactively claim entitlement to Dean’s trust, he suggested an imbalance of trust because he was trying to dig into that part of Dean that is loyal to his friends. In other words, he was telling a lie for manipulation purposes, and that's just the damn truth. It isn't some crap about Dean having trust issues. It's Dean not buying some crap Cas is trying to sell—a twisted picture he is trying to paint to avoid doing something worse to get Dean out of his way.

It is insane for people to say Dean doesn't care about Cas as much as Cas cares about him though when you consider Cas hurt someone Dean loves just to keep Dean out of his way—he broke Sam's brain—Sammy's brain—and Dean still found a way to forgive that despite all of the trauma he has wrapped up in protecting Sam, and then he fought 360 degree combat through Purgatory looking for someone who abandoned him. Then while that person was beating him to death he was looking up at him calling him family and Cas again abandoned him. Any time Dean expressed affection for Cas there was a good bet Cas leaving would follow quickly. But Dean approaches Cas in a way the majority of fandom refuses to approach all of the characters—with an understanding of his motivations and hangups and intentions and what is in his heart (and Cas approaches him the same way). Despite it all, Dean knows that Cas cares about him. He doesn't understand why Cas won't include him though—or he does, and the reasons aren't okay with him and Cas will. not. stop. and that is the ever growing festering wound that leads to the divorce arc. It is absolutely 100% a "straw that broke the camel's back" situation. Dean's frustrations with Cas's unilateral decision-making are not... ever dealt with. Cas wanting to ghost Dean is not ever dealt with. Cas Malewifing sidelining Dean whenever he damn well feels like it by just refusing to answer the phone is not ever dealt with. Because each time it's discussed, it happens again. The ultimate narrative is just that Dean should be expected to accept it, and be grateful, and I don't think that's fair. I don't think that refusing to communicate is something that Dean should have to put up with from his best friend. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But more than that, I'm sad that it's something Cas isn't allowed to grow from, because that tendency—that desire for that secrecy and control of the means of communication and that desperation for martyrdom—that is coming from a place of great pain for Cas—a wound—and it's a deep one, and he deserved to get to start to close that wound up and heal.

#mail #dont feed the stans after midnight

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