#please come home I’m begging you to come home please
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confiteor (WILL YOU EVER LOOK UP AGAIN?) — sunday
summary. the bronze melodia is a position that requires weariness, empathy, and patience. unfortunately for sunday, he receives far more than he expects through the voice in the window.
notes. i’m ashamed. this is dedicated to the anon that held me at gunpoint and forced me to post this to tumblr. otherwise, you can read it here.
warnings. mdni. this is LONGGG it’s about 7k words. religious themes, religious guilt, explicit sexual content, very inappropriate use of a confessional, mild degradation but in a religious way, reader is AFAB i fear and uhh. indecent and guided mutual tug sessions, if you catch my drift.
“Next. Please, step forward.”
Sunday had heard it all before. Timid footsteps, hushed whispers, skin stretching as the person trembled and fidgeted. It was always confronting to sinners, to step close to his voice and absolve.
Nothing truly shocked him anymore. He’d fallen in a state of numbness, in taking this position. A Bronze Melodia, as it was called.
He’d heard murder confessions, perjury, disloyalty, misconduct, everything. He had to grow used to it; this was his job. To forgive, to press his fists into palms beyond the confessors' sight line, and pretend he was as all-forgiving as he appeared to be.
He had learned to hold his voice steady.
Sunday found himself absentmindedly fixing his sleeves, though they already sat perfectly on his wrists.
What he could never predict was whether the person behind the window was here to absolve, or to mock the Aeons. It was always a guessing game for him; perhaps that’s what kept him from straying too far from the path.
The position was tedious, though patience was a virtue of his. He liked to akin himself to an adaptable man, warping his words and honeying his rather monotonous tone to that of reassurance. A false promise of hope, if you will.
He was good at that. Humans were exceedingly predictable in most of their actions; he had learned as such and had tried to drill the knowledge and dangers of the species into his dear sister, too.
Humans were cruel. Robin had never believed him, even in the feats of his struggles as a child, how one of the wings below his ear was mercilessly snapped in an act of child’s play. Child curiosity, it was dubbed as, though to him, it felt more like hatred.
He remembered crying that night, with his right-wing bandaged by his caregiver, and Robin had to remain in his room and sing him to sleep.
Now, it was different.
Quiet shuffles of footsteps were heard. He could tell they were the last recipient remaining, for the muted idle chatter of attendants had faded, and the sun was beginning to set. Members of kinship and the like would return home and sin, and then enter the church begging for forgiveness tomorrow. A never-ending, boorish and lonely cycle.
How shy. He listened to apprehensive slow steps until he heard the click of sharp heels stop just short of the window.
“Come to me, my devotee. I have sought THEIR presence within us.” Sweet words, peppered with powdered sugar poured from his tongue. “Tell me… what ails you such?”
The quiet intake of a breath, sharp and hushed.
Curious, Sunday leaned against the interior wall, just barely closer.
When there was no answer, he added, “do not be afraid. I am here to forgive. I cannot judge you.”
Another harsh inhale.
And then, “I apologise, Reverend.”
“Not at all.” A small, gentle smile pulled onto his lips. You could not see him through the box, and he made sure to stay clear of the iron bars of the window, but he hoped you heard the warmth and comforting sweetness in his tone. “Are you new to the congregation? Your voice is unfamiliar.”
He heard the shuffling of clothes. A pause, and then a wilting, “yes– no, sir.” Another pause, longer than the last. “I have not visited the confessional, but I do sometimes attend service.”
Sunday hummed curiously. “And what has prompted your change of heart?”
He heard the tapping of nails against the exterior of the box, pensive and thoughtful. Rhythmic, like in time to a tune he couldn’t quite place his finger on.
The setting, orange glow of the sunlight, partially tinted a deep bloodied colour through the stained glass windows of the church, crept further through the bars of the confessional as it drew closer to the horizon. The light was warm on the lick of his fingertips that rested close to the frame.
The persistent tap, tap, tap sounded like an agitated display of impatience. Like a song of trepidation and dread, yet much too quick to be sorrowful. Excitement, perhaps?
Then, there was the hard swallow of a lump in their throat. He heard it through the wall.
“I fell in love with a man.”
Their voice, your voice, rang clear as if you were standing next to him without the muffle of the confessional in between his body and yours.
Sunday’s eyes flitted to the wall by his head as if he could see you through the wood.
He said nothing.
Speckles of dust caught in the setting orange sun from the stained glass windows.
“A beautiful man,” you continued softly. “Generous, kind, considerate…” Your voice tapered off like a votive candle flickering in the breeze.
Sunday remained quiet, choosing instead to focus on the soft beating of his heart in his ears, and the sound of your breathing.
There was another ruffle of clothes—a blazer perhaps? It sounded like stiffened cotton or something as luxurious as pure wool. He wondered if such a material could be purchased by someone so common. Wool was a fleeting thought; an easy purchase with the wave of a credit card.
There was a pregnant pause, as if you, too, did not know what to say.
“Is he a bad man?” Sunday inquired encouragingly, still soft and eloquent.
A hiss of an inhale.
“No, not at all.”
Still, nothing.
Sunday watched the wall for a moment, imagining a figure on the other side fidgeting nervously. He could hear the tussle of form-fitted clothes shifting back and forth as if the devotee had been unable to stand still.
“I offer my sincerest apologies,” he started gently. “But I fail to understand any wrongdoings in your confession.” He prompted his voice to remain even. Patience. All in due time. “If he is as truly good a man as you put it, then there is nothing I see to absolve.”
“It’s not him,” you tried. There was a drone in your tone, as if you were trying to defend yourself. “It’s who he is.”
“An unattainable man, I presume? Or, is he perhaps forbidden?” The pressure was light. He was not so much forcing or coaxing words from your throat, but to embolden you instead.
He heard you hum nervously in agreement. He thought it to be a reply to both of his questions.
“Is it his status?”
Another uncomfortable tussle of clothing.
“Yes, sir.” He heard you lean against the confessional through the strain of the wall. “He is a holy man.”
“Ah… a man of the church?”
“I cannot want what I cannot have,” you dwelled softly. “I know the answer is to let go, but it has been months, and I have grown worse.”
Sunday hummed. Quite the predicament indeed. Such a precious scenario, though. Somebody ordinary in love with the unordinary. So sweet, like fruit growing on a tree in a sacred garden.
The tragedy of unattainable romance was fleeting for the congregation. Even Robin, his dear sister, a truly devoted romantic at heart, could never commit herself to a person. To worship another, and to take eyes from Xipe, would be worth a painful, slow and torturous death unlike no other.
Grotesque and twisted, like the many priests before him, who had been slashed and severed for their transgressions.
To turn your back on The Family–
He willed the thoughts away.
“I do hear you. I pray for your struggles.” His gloves pressed to the window. “But, it is not unreasonable, nor a defiance of the Holy, to be in love with a man of the church.”
“That’s the thing. It’s beyond love, Reverend,” you said, hoarse and strained, like you’d raked a hand down your jugular. “It’s everything.”
The shift of clothes again. This time, a hand brushed against a zipper, though there was no tug at the clip. He listened attentively, like a song he’d never heard before.
The stretch of clothes around skin, the glimpse of an expensive leather shoe from the corner of his eye, and attire inappropriate for the church. Exposed legs, too much skin, a low neckline of a shirt. Patterned stockings following black embroidered flowers and thorny stems travelled up bare legs like serpents.
“I want to ruin him.”
There it was.
“I want it so he thinks no more of the Aeon he worships, and only of me.”
His lips only barely parted at what he was hearing. A startled quiet breath escaped him.
He heard the skin of your knuckles pull taught into fists. They tapped against the wood.
“But it’s wrong of me to think this way, so I humbly request your blessings, Reverend, even if I–” You paused. Sunday flinched when a hand pressed against the iron bars, dreadfully close to the feathered wings beneath his ears. “There’s something bad inside of me. I need your help.”
Never had he heard something like this. A sinner be so outwardly humble and honest in their speech; to admit that you were wrong. To admit that your behaviour was treacherous and ghastly.
And to pine after a man of worship and unbreaking devotion.
To defy the Lord. To fight teachings, to fight him and his words. A stubbornness like no other, and one so incredibly shameful and distasteful, and yet, you still carried a weight of guilt heavy on your chest.
Another shudder of a breath. Another pitiful, desperate noise. All to receive his good graces.
“I don’t ask for forgiveness anymore. I don’t think I even deserve your blessings, sire. I don’t think anybody does.” Maybe he would agree with you, and maybe he wouldn’t. Instead, he leaned against the wall and stared up towards the ceiling of the confessional. “I only ask to hear your voice.”
Sunday’s breath hitched at the suspicious sound of a zipper being tugged, roaming hands, far too purposeful in their placement. He didn’t wish to imagine where your fingers travelled.
Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut.
“If you have convinced yourself that nothing can be done, then why would you seek me?” he asked, a waver in his tone. His ear pressed to the wall again, cold against his warm skin. “…If you think you cannot be absolved, then I am unable to help you.”
“I want relief,” was all you said. You pressed against the confessional. “Blessed Reverend, I want you to relieve me.”
Sunday was at a loss for words. He was listening attentively again.
You did not ask for forgiveness, peaceful solitude, or punishment. He did not understand what you were referring to specifically, choosing instead to pull delicately at the tips of his gloves. They suddenly felt constricting, like they’d grown a size too small for his hands.
Usually, he’d refrain from mindless fiddling and fidgeting. Something was different now.
Something warm ran from the pit of his stomach up to his neck.
It was vile. Like a serpent’s tongue following the rigid bone of his spine towards the nape of his neck. Warm and forked, like a pitchfork wielded in the hands of the irreverent.
The slimy body of the snake would twist and coil around his neck, squeezing the delicate flesh, marring it, coercing more sweet honey from his tongue until you were writhing.
The localised swelling heat curling in his stomach burned hotter when your breathing faltered and strayed from its natural rhythm.
It faltered too immorally to be mistaken for a simple hitch, or an error in your presentation. It was not a reflection of apprehension, nor fear.
It was–
“Would you be honest with me?” Sunday asked gently. His trembling hands curled into fists, still pressed against the wall and out of view of the window. “I only ask one answer of you.”
“Of course.” Strained, weak, unsure. Another pathetic attempt of an even breath left your lips. The aroma of something rich and sweet wavered through the bars of the window. “Anything for you.”
How depraved. Indecent, perverse. Your tone was repulsive, and so incredibly honest.
He heard the sound of something slippery, like the swallowing of spit in your mouth, or perhaps something far far more obscene.
He was tempted to move closer, to bite at the hand that fed him.
Your devotion was corrupt, focused solely on the sound of his breathing from inside the confessional. You were not here for redemption.
The box grew warm with his shaken breaths.
“Then, pray tell…” His temple rested against the interior of the confessional, and something hot and vile stirred in his stomach, like fiery pits of devastation. Like claws from a being unforeseen by Aeons above. “Are your hands between your thighs?”
You let out a stuttered gasp.
Sunday closed his eyes and tried to control his shaken breathing. His perfectly fitted clothes suddenly felt too tight, too restricting, every crease and fold tattering and ruined heating skin.
He swallowed thickly, wings barely catching on the window of the confessional.
“I’m not–” Your hands abandoned their position and pressed to the window, the diagonal frames digging into your soft flesh. The pad of your longest finger shimmered in the setting sunlight. “–I’m wrong. There’s something wrong with me.”
His gloved nails dug into his thighs. The dove white trousers stretched with the pressure.
He could not see you fully, no, for if he could, he was afraid he’d throw the door open, drag you into his lap and satisfy that burning ache that ricocheted in his stomach.
“To think of you this way,” you continued meekly. “It’s disgusting and vile and I need you to help me.”
He had to agree with you, though his fingers pressed just shy of the borders of the window. He almost grabbed your hand and dragged his tongue up your finger.
He felt the same. Hot and sticky, clothes clinging to him like they’d been doused in glue. The feeling pressed into his burning skin like a fragrance of saffron and black peppers.
That seductively enticing aroma of your perfume that lingered through the gaps in the windows. Honey and dessert, and the salty smell of your sweat. He did not eat sweets anymore; that sweet tooth was long left to dust and decay, and yet his mouth watered.
He felt as though he was being tempted to bite into something that held dire consequences.
Desperate to relieve the burning below his skin, Sunday unbuttoned his blazer. “Do you wish to be absolved?”
“I–” He heard you shuffle. The telltale swish of cloth. The click of heels. You’d dressed up for him, even if he couldn’t see you, and you couldn’t see him. Even your painted nails he peered at; a dark navy blue, like the wings at his waist that stretched in relief when he freed them from the confines of his jacket. “I don’t deserve it.”
“So, why did you come?” he asked. The larger, navy blue wings were much too big for the small perimeter of the confessional, but anything was better than to feel as restricted as he was.
His gloved hands pressed to the window now.
He wanted to touch you.
God, no. He couldn’t think like this.
He wanted his fingerprints branded into your skin, to stain every inch of your flesh like cigarette burns, forever marring the perfection.
“To relieve myself.”
Sunday smiled, and it was pained. You heard it in his tone. “How honest.” His temple pressed onto the cool wooden box again, leaning as close as he could to your voice. “Aren’t you ashamed?”
His forehead pressed to the wood beside the window, out of view. The orange rays of the sun setting outside licked upon his fingertips that curled over the iron bars. The warmth felt cold.
“Very,” was all you said.
Sunday fought the urge to moan, pressing his teeth into his tongue and hissing at the pain.
This was wrong.
He couldn’t stop himself.
“Go on, then. One hand. Relieve yourself.”
He heard a muffled sigh of relief. Perhaps you, too, had pressed yourself against the exterior of the confessional. The only thing parting you from his body was a thin slide of wood.
A sacred sanctuary that you would reform from pure selfishness.
One of the hands on the window abandoned its firm grip around the frames, and he heard a quiet gasp.
It was quickly cut off.
“Let me hear you,” Sunday whispered through the window. A gloved hand raked down the side of the window, and his head knocked against the corner of the confessional. His halo suddenly felt like a crown of thorns, weighted and punishing.
He would indulge.
If you were here to ruin him, then he would indulge.
He heard a wet squelch that made him shiver. His other hand had absentmindedly crawled up his thigh, trembling to remain flat on the seat. The skin below his trousers was pulled taught and had grown sensitive.
You moaned, and it was so close to his ear that his spine snapped straight. His fingers brushed over his straining cock beneath his belt.
The awful, awful, yet so beautiful sounds that tore from your throat left him reeling for more. For his mind to fill in the blanks, squeezing his eyes shut tight until even the light from the window was shunned out of his eyelids.
“Slow your hand,” he whispered. “Enjoy yourself properly.”
The squelching slowed significantly after only a moment of hesitation. He heard you continuously pant like a helpless mutt, confused, perhaps frustrated, too.
The other hand still curled as tight as it could around the iron diagonal bars of the window shook with reckless abandon.
Debauch sin felt good. Like a drug. Like alcohol washing down his throat and filling his stomach. So, so good, like the slide of his hand up his shirt. His other hand, much less secure, fumbled with the golden buckle of his belt.
He wondered if you felt the same. “How will you sleep tonight?”
“I won’t,” you whispered hoarsely. He was sure your appearance was something to match the rasp of your voice. “I will toss and turn.”
As will he. He’ll lay on his side, tangled between freshly washed white sheets and feathered pillows, and touch himself. He knows it so. He feels the strain of his palm tracing along the hot skin, thumbing the beading slit while he thinks of your perfume.
His cock twitched in the confines of his pants when the heel of his palm knocked against his tip. So hot, and so difficult to breathe. This box was not made to entertain whores, nor himself.
Sunday managed to unbuckle his belt. The leather straps smack against the side of the box.
You’re so wet. He can hear you through the confessional, and a dreamy sigh escapes his nose.
“How many fingers are inside of you?” He couldn’t quite tell. His hands curled into fists.
“Just one, sire.”
Sunday huffed, thumbing the button of his trousers around his waist. The claws in the pit of his stomach had returned, scratching and marring the inner walls and slicing through the bubbles of acid, desperate to be set free. It hurt.
He could imagine how you felt. He could imagine everything; the rhythmic sound of a single finger sliding in and out of the pretty wet hole between your legs. Pressing your body against the exterior of the box, desperate to feel the cold wood against your burning skin.
Your finger being hugged tight inside of you, pressing and dragging along sensitive nerves deep near your womb.
He was a mess.
Hair frazzled, halo dimming and fading when the light angled into the box just right, wings twitching, battling a game of whether he was to wrap them around himself or spread out as wide as they could.
You must’ve heard the zip of his fly undone, for you gasped, and your finger sped up accordingly. That same wet squishing of your poor poor limbs trying to accommodate how shameful you’d become.
His teeth caught on the tip of his glove and pulled the material off. The white cotton fell to the floor uselessly.
“You must be so lonely,” you said to him through the window. “So deprived.” He felt the fanning of warm breath against his ear. “I can fix that.”
Sunday, attentively listening with glowing cheeks, slowly freed his cock from his pants. A sigh slipped past his wet lips.
A different sound echoed from between your legs, and you groaned as close to his ear as you could.
“I want to hear you, Reverend.”
His hand dragged up his cock and he moaned. It was a shameful display of sincerity, and he wished he had bit his tongue again. Instead, he panted against the wood of the confessional, and muttered, “touch yourself.”
A wet noise that made his hips shift forward into his hand told him your finger had abandoned your insides, instead dragging up to play with that precious bundle of nerves.
He heard the stretch of skin, the shift of whatever clothes you had kept on yourself, and what you had thrown to the side. You were leaning against the box; your scent was stronger, that perfume and something sweeter, mixed with the salt and sweat of your skin.
He only hoped your thighs were as parted as his were. One of the sides of his knees knocked gently against the wall of the confessional.
So wrong. So shameful, so blasphemous, to do this, to please you and please himself to the thought of you, and then exit the church as if it had never happened. As if he wasn’t trapped fucking his palm like a mutt in heat, unable to control the panting and the incessant whispers of groans that escaped his lips.
Cum beaded at his slit, sticky and dribbling down to the base of his tip.
He wanted nothing more than to heave the door open, taste the slick that ran down your legs, and then bend you over the nearby podium and–
“So wet,” he murmured through the window. The only response you formed was a whimper. “So shameless. Do you feel guilty?”
“O-of course,” you tried. It was pathetic between the hot coiling in your stomach, like a deadly serpent curling around its prey and squeezing. “Do you?”
Sunday tried to imagine a hot tongue cleaning the mess of his cock, tracing the cum pooling at the base and flattening against his tip, angling just right to press into his slit flushed an angry scarlet, like wine and blood.
He could imagine ruining you for any other man. To slam his hips up against yours, to drag the head of his cock along those plush velvety insides until you were sobbing, struggling to accommodate him. He imagined you’d be perfect.
If only he could do all of those things without repercussions.
Tracing the swollen veins of his cock while you played with yourself with wet fingers was already too far. He could foresee punishment on his behalf and yours. Perhaps death, though neither of you deserved such luxury.
He did not answer.
Instead, he asked, “will you return?” His voice was shaky at best, and filthy at worst.
There was a hopeful twinge to his tone. He prayed you did not hear it.
You hesitated. There was a waver in your tone. “I shouldn’t.”
Your voice sent his mind reeling. He was thumbing at his slit while his thighs trembled. When his palm was coated in enough of his cum, he continued dragging his hand up and down the head of his cock.
He was growing dizzy. “But?”
“But I will.”
“This shouldn’t happen again,” Sunday heaved. His hand grew desperate, wetter, and the urge to pull the door of the confessional off its hinges and take you on the floor and away from the stained glass windows where the sun peered through was filling his senses. He yearned to know what you felt like squeezing around him. “You should not let this happen again.”
“I need you, Reverend,” you confessed. “If I am honest, my sins will be atoned for. As will yours.”
“You will not touch me tonight, and I will not touch you.” It was final. Without room for argument, though he sounded somewhat disappointed.
“But what about tomorrow night?”
Sunday breathed against the wood, tugging at his collar and rolling his hips into his hand. “If you return, I will punish you for it.”
“You tempt me, Reverend,” you said through a moan. “I will think of you tonight.” Your fingers had returned to your hole. He’d recognised the noise, somehow more obscene than it had been before.
His cock ached with hatred. How you would feel dripping down him like an unsatiated whore, trying so desperately to ask for his forgiveness, to try and seduce Godhood.
He hoped you felt empty. He hoped you hungered for his cock through the wall, breathing erratic and loud as his palm dragged along the length of hot skin over and over again.
Ecstasy filled his throat and every vein in his body. Goodness, the edge was glorious. He pilfered off the side for a moment before he stopped his hand.
His cock twitched in agony and he let out a groan that tapered off.
“Don’t you dare cum,” he snapped through the box.
You whined, but your hand obediently stilled
“I would imagine you’re filthy now.” He pressed his forehead to the cool wood. The surface heated up along with his skin almost instantly. It was so hot here. “Use your fingers again.”
“How many?”
So obedient. He almost purred at your behaviour. “Two.”
Oh, he spoiled you. That familiar sound again, so wet and warm and inviting, and you were moaning and shivering around your own hand. He could imagine slippery slick pooling along your palm now, lathering your fingers like a thin paste.
His own fingers found the flushed swollen tip of his cock again. It twitched in his palm. There was a greedy puddle of cum forming at the base of his cock now, and he quickly wiped drool from his lip.
Already frazzled from the orgasm he’d denied just mere minutes ago, your breathing grew louder and louder, though not alarming enough.
“Touch yourself again,” he rasped out. His halo was now a liability, too ironic. His wings were cramped against the interior walls, desperate to be let out. Wet fingers rubbed along his tip in rhythm with the sound of your own moving against yourself, drawing wet slippery rings around that adorable swollen bundle of nerves between your legs.
He hopes you struggle to cum tonight without his guidance. It’s a fleeting thought, but it makes his thighs lock and freeze against the seat.
He hopes you never find any satisfaction in another man. Wouldn’t that be a spectacle? A mindless bumbling whore stumbling after a High Priest, another Bronze Melodia.
You were murmuring his name now in a never ending chant of prayer.
Saliva caught in his throat as he breathed.
“Rub that pretty clit harder, will you?” Still in tune with your second hand that had finally pulled off of the bars to trace around the rim of your hole. He tried his best to keep up with the noise, eyes still wound shut.
You were hopeless. Struggling at the ministrations like a squirming worm caught on a hook. Your knuckles knocked against the confessional before your fingers slid into yourself.
This was heaven.
He knew it so, no matter how wrong it felt. It was a feeling, not the real thing; never the real thing. Not after tonight, but he could live with himself, if he ended up buried inside of you.
His tip bubbled and drooled at the thought of it.
You taught him self indulgence. And as sinful as it was, as wicked as it felt to buck his hips into his own palm, slick with need and sweat and dribbles of saliva that had fallen from his lips, he loved every pull of his skin.
Oh, it was awful. And it was so good. So treacherous, so disgustingly unholy, so blasphemous and insulting to do this in the very place he’d learned to be sacrificial and sanctified. Where he’d sit on the confessional with a heavy halo and a light heart and try to feel for the heathen on the other side of the window.
Spills of moans and moans left your lips, fingers working at that pace he had commanded of you. Your palms must have been soaked in your own slick now, the delicate flesh between your legs swollen and dark with blood.
He wanted to touch you.
It took everything at this point to keep the door shut. Like a woman being tempted by a serpent to bite into a forbidden fruit off of a large tree. He was sure you would have also indulged, had he offered you a slice of the fruit.
“I’m–” You couldn’t finish the sentence. The wood of the box groaned beneath the shared weight. “I need to–”
Oh. The scent was delicious. The hissing of a snake in his ears, the watchful eyes of a nightingale from somewhere far away, the taste of a sweet fruit running along his tongue.
He hoped you returned.
“Go on. Isn’t that what you came for?” He dared to say more, but instead bit down on his lip.
You bit down first on the fruit.
You came much more broken than he would have expected, and his hands paused around his cock to listen to that gorgeous melody. The drawn out whine came out more as a sob, fingers still drawing tight and hard circles around your clit as your hole clenched around weakened fingers.
Such a beautiful noise. You sounded as though you were struggling through wet heaves, filthy soaked fleshed between your thighs, skin tattered in sweat and bathed in the sunlight just barely peeking above the horizon from out of the window.
You whispered his name like a prayer. A pitiful drone, as if you’d become fully aware of your transgressions.
Wet fingers returned to the window.
His hot breath cooled the slick stuck to your skin, but Sunday kept his tongue pulled behind his teeth. Did you feel empty? Did you want more? Did you also want to pull open the door to the confessional and take him in the seat?
Your voice was weak. “Sire…”
Your tone rippled beneath his skin. His face was on fire. His hand sped up.
“How close are you?”
A whine ripped from his throat. “So close.”
He heard you breathe a hoarse laugh and his feathers raised behind his ears, and it was still one of the most ethereal tunes he’d ever had the honour to listen to.
His wrist grew tired, but he pressed on, thumbing at the overtly sensitive tip and his bubbling slit that wept in tandem. He watched your fingers against the window closely, imagining the heat of your flesh curled around his cock instead.
His cock twitched and twitched in his palm, and his hips raised off the seat for a moment.
Sunday heard you swallow. A hum rumbled in your throat, low and pretty.
He was sure you could hear how slick he was. It was humiliating how hard he’d grown just from the sound of you.
The wings below his ears were crushed against the wooden wall. The bones ached, but he ignored everything in favour of the sound of your breathing so close to his ear.
The sun had now drowned below the horizon.
“Cum, sir.” What a pretty plea. Your fingers tightened around the bars of the window. “Please.”
Sunday gasped, his own knuckles pulling back and knocking the other wall of the confessional as his hips twitched and twitched and he squirmed and his cock felt as though it was going to burst.
He came then, almost weeping as his teeth sunk into his sore knuckles. The sharp vertices of his halo felt weightless and warm, and his shirt felt just as constricting as it had before he’d come undone.
It was like fire oozing from him. Cum dribbled from his tip and painted his palms impossibly stickier than before. What fell from his hands pooled into a puddle on the seat and he grimaced.
An angry and raw garble escaped his throat at your words; who were you to do this to him? How could you do this to him—his cock twitched again, this time violently, as if aching for another round. His palm pressed heavy to his tip, still flushed that beautiful scarlet, and fattened with blood, experimentally giving it another drag along his palm.
Sunday’s hips jutted forward into his hand again. A discomforting chill ran up his spine and remained at the nape of his neck.
Viciously, he tore his hand away from his cock, staring at his sullied hand as if it had betrayed him. Maybe it had, you see, for he had no foresight his body would succumb to such temptations.
His body should not have succumbed. He should not have succumbed.
This was beyond his teachings; cardinal sin and disloyalty to Xipe, whom he praised every night with withering and wavering hands.
And now they were tainted.
“Just a taste, Reverend.”
Sunday’s spine stiffened as if a hot metal rod had replaced the bone.
His skin ached and his teeth vibrated with disgust. Sacrilege. That’s what it was. Vengeful and spiteful, much unlike sweetened delectable fruits off of a tree in the Garden of Eden. This should not have happened. You shouldn’t have ever come here.
He had an inkling of a feeling, as fleeting and dull as it was, that you did not feel guilty for your actions.
His teeth gritted, and his jaw ached in accordance.
Wretched thing.
Sunday, disgusted in his actions, ignoring the beads of sweat pooling down his neck like pearls, held out the degloved hand tainted in his cum through the gap in the window.
A tongue curled around his fingers, hot and heavy, and dragged up from the tip of his nails to his knuckles.
He resisted the urge to make a noise, instead catching his tongue in his teeth and biting down enough to draw blood.
His cock was swelling with blood again, tip flushed and leaking once more. He refused to touch himself again. He had already ruined the tranquillity of the church. He had already ruined you.
Sunday’s fingers twitched in your mouth before they dragged down your tongue.
When he was sure you were done, and his hand was covered in your spit, he grabbed your chin and drew you as close to the window as he could.
There, he managed to catch a glimpse of your face.
Sweaty, mangled, ruined, and so imperfect that his cheeks fill with blood at the sight of you. Your image is ruined by the light from the still burning votive candles from the completed service hours ago that shines behind you, branding the crown of your head like a halo.
Sunday assumed he looked worse.
“You will speak of this to no one,” he rasped. “Not ever.”
“No, sir,” you whispered. There was an impervious grin stretched into your lips. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“The second I hear wind that you’ve been sharing this night with those undeserving, I’ll rip your tongue from your filthy throat.”
You exhaled shakily. There were stars in your eyes.
Sunday’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Of course.”
He let go of your chin and tossed you as far as he could backwards through the window of the confessional. You teetered, wobbly in your position of kneeling, before you briskly stood up.
He couldn’t bear the sight of bare legs, so he looked away and shrunk down into the corner of the box, out of view of the sunlight, and the barred window.
Sunday did catch a glimpse of those expensive shoes. Too expensive, too fancy for a church setting. Your clothes were the same, too form fitting to be dubbed appropriate in such a sacred place.
How could you appease to THEM if you were dressed to seduce their messengers?
He said nothing, did nothing, silently wallowing in pitiful hatred as white hot pin pricks of one thousand needles formed behind his eyes. His wings curled around his waist.
He let out a breath that caught in his throat.
“Goodnight, Reverend,” was all you murmured to him.
Your fingers retreated from the window.
Sunday attentively listened to the sound of your footsteps. He hoped he could be forgiven for this. He watched the ceiling with disdain.
When he heard you leave, and the telltale slam of the door shutting behind you, he retracted his hand still coated in your saliva and thumbed at the tip of his cock.
Your spit slid so easily against him.
He shuddered, and then he moaned. It echoed along the walls.
Silently praying for forgiveness, and covering his eyes with his other hand in the process, he drowned once more in solitude.
#$. after hours#$. the macrocosmos#sunday x you#sunday x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader
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Sleep Deprived
A/N: still alive!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Words: 1005
Warnings: Unedited, Toot-Rotting fluff :)
Summary: You are far too nice and cannot seem to say no when the team keeps asking you for favors. Now you're ridiculously sleep-deprived and Bucky is determined for you to finally get some rest. (Grumpy Bucky X Sunshine Reader)
Bucky Masterlist
Buy me a Coffee?
_____
Kindness had always been something you prided yourself on; your willingness to help and be patient with others had almost always done you well, but sometimes you were just too nice
First, it was helping Nat go through her old paperwork late one night; she had been in an absolute rush trying to find this old file before the deadline and you didn’t even think of refusing. Then it was Tony, who all but forced you to fill in for one of his lab techs in an overnight experiment. Then Steve wanted help with some confounded modern technology that Sam swore he didn’t have the time to teach him.
On top of it all you had hardly been sleeping the last few nights anyway.
Where you once felt vibrant and bright was now filled with far-distant gazes and tired smiles. Not that you really noticed, right now you were only focused on opening your eyes again after each agonizingly heavy blink.
“Y/N are you sure you want to come?” Steve asked, “You look like you could use a 90-year sleep…” he commented with a quiet huff of laughter.
You barely even registered the joke, instead just smiling sleepy on instinct to his small laugh, “I’m sure, I really do want to go. I promise I’ll be okay once we get going” you assured. The team had been planning this outing for weeks now and you swore you wouldn’t miss it. Not only that but you really didn’t want to miss out on a chance to spend a little more time with Bucky outside of work.
He had snared you at the very first moment and he didn’t even know it. His bright blue eyes had turned away from their conversation, a small frown on his lips from whatever had just been said, and turned to you instead- jolting you with a force you couldn’t have foreseen. Ever since then your heart had been hooked, its strings unwillingly tangled by the smallest interactions.
Not you’d ever admit that to anybody.
“Doll, I really think you should consider staying home and getting some rest…” your heart thrummed as Bucky spoke, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you a look.
But you only held up your hands, smiling your assurances as you spoke, “I can last a few more hours..! I’ll take a nap as soon as we get back, but I’m sure I’ll last.”
The other members of the team only looked at each other, sharing doubtful glances but nodding nonetheless- if you really wanted to go they weren’t going to try and stop you.
“Alright then,” Nat said with a shrug and stood up, “let’s all head out then.”
Everyone stood up at once and you followed suit, your vision swimming as you stood up far too fast. “Whoa.. um, I mean… Whoo! Yeah, let’s do this…!” You took a staggering step forward. You refused to look like you couldn’t keep up and so you pushed through, giving yourself no time for recovery.
Thankfully there was still one person watching you. Bucky stood up to follow, lingering by your side as the others moved on ahead. He’d tell himself it was purely to watch over you, but he couldn’t deny the lingering urge to be near you. Ever since your first day at the tower when you flashed your annoyingly bright smile at him… he knew he’d never be able to think of anything else.
You stumbled but quickly caught yourself, your breathing ragged and worn as your body begged for rest. “Doll, please-“ but he didn’t have a chance to finish as you stumbled towards the ground yet again.
Strong hands shot out to catch you, your body almost completely limp in his firm grasp. “Oh I…” you started, struggling to keep your consciousness and your breath, “Sorry… I’m okay….”
But Bucky only frowned and shook his head, his hands scooping you up bridal style and he turned to the rest of the team who had stopped to turn back, “You guys go ahead. We’re gonna stay here and get some rest.” He said as he walked back toward the couch, acting as if holding you against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.
“You don’t have to do that, Bucky…” you mumbled against his chest, your body more than happy to sink into him.
“Shh, yes I do…” he spoke quietly, the whole room settling into a calm quiet as the rest of the team headed out the door, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Doll… I know you want to be nice, but you’re only gonna wind up hurt.” He chided as he took a seat on the couch and laid back against the armrest.
Thanks to your lack of sleep you had no shame in rolling on top of him, your cheek squishing against his chest as you let out a tired huff. “I’m not.. good at saying no…” you murmured with eyes closed, sleep coming on fast in your comfortable state.
The grumpy ex-soldier grinned despite himself, your sweet smooshed face stirring something in his old heart. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch, draping it over the two of you as you seemed to be in the last thralls of consciousness.
“Bucky…?”
“Yes, Doll?”
“Will you be here when I wake up…? Please..?” Your soft voice asked, your fingers curling around his shirt in an effort to make him stay- but he didn’t need any swaying.
A grin, as bright as your own, broke through his expression, and he nodded quietly, “I’ll be right here, Doll. I promise you….”
---
And he kept his promise.
Hours later the rest of the team had finally returned, initially boisterous and full of laughter, they were quickly quieted down by the sight before them.
There on the couch you and Bucky continued to lay, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your frame with his sleeping face tucked into the top of your head.
_____________________________
General Bucky Taglist:
@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions
If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes imagine#bucky fic#bucky imagine#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x y/n#james bucky barnes x you#james buchanan barnes x reader#james barnes x y/n#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#James Bucky Barnes imagine#mcu imagine
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Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex Make up sex make up sex make up sex 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Summary: A year into reader’s relationship with Johnnie, reader realizes just how busy Johnnie can get with what he does for work, and just how easily he can push reader off.
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, angsty, arguing between reader and Johnnie, fighting for love/relationship, unprotected makeup sex, kissing, hair pulling, slight choking, oral (both rev), creampie, filth with a dash of fluff? Enjoy!
Word count: 2.5k | not edited
Also, this song is sooo good. It’s one of my favorite songs in general, so please I beg of you to listen to this before or during your read.
╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
“Therapy is tiring.” You joke and, “I’ve tried it before and it just felt like I was being judged, you know?”
You glance down at Katrina, who’s in the screen of your phone on FaceTime. She nods, “Right, but so is hiding how you feel. I’ll have to give you the number for mine. She is phenomenal.”
You nod, pacing back and forth as you stare out the window, “I’ve brought it up to him a few times already, Kat. I just..”
You run your hands over your arms, wrapping them tightly around your body, “Maybe we aren’t meant to last?”
“Don’t say that, y/n. Johnnie loves you, he just probably isn’t used to having someone like you around.”
“You mean being the first girlfriend he’s had in a while?” You laugh slightly, “Jake always picks on him about it.”
“Then yeah.” Kat laughs, “I would just give it one more try and if it doesn’t get better..” she trails off, “You know I have an extra bedroom open, right?”
You smile, glancing at her in the phone, “You remind me every time I talk to you about this.”
She shrugs, “Just letting you know you have a good plan b in case things.. go.. you know.”
It’s silent for a few seconds, “Just remember that there’s no better vengeance than learning to enjoy things again.”
“I just want him go get the message, like. No one is fucking shatter resistant. A person can only take so much shit.”
You hear the front door open and you sigh, “Johnnie’s here. Gotta go.”
“Good luck. Love you bye!”
“Love you bye.”
You turn around and walks out of the bedroom, making your way down the steps of his shared house with Jake.
He glances up at you and smiles slightly, “Hey babe.”
You walk over to him, planting a kiss on his lips, “Hey.” You go to walk away but he grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him, “Whoa. What’s wrong?”
You laugh slightly, mainly at the fact that this is the first time he’s noticed something was wrong in days, “Nothing, why do you-“
“You look like you’ve been crying.”
You shrug, “I’m fine.”
“No, talk to me.” Johnnie pushes and you shake your head, taking a step back, “Johnnie.” You whine quietly and he reaches out to grab your hips, “Baby.”
You snap, the second his hands touch your hips, “Fuck, Johnnie.” You take a deep breath, letting out a loud sigh right before the words spill from your lips.
“I’ve been like this for days, Johnnie. Upset, tired, angry.” You look at him, “Days, and now, when you get home and I’m assuming in the mood to fuck, you want to actually take more than a fucking second to look at me and think hmm, okay something wrong.”
“Jesus Christ.” Johnnie breathes out, “Where the fuck is this coming from? You do know that what I do for work causes me to be busy, right? I mean.” He shakes his head, “I’m pretty sure you knew that coming into this relationship.”
You keep your stare on him, “I knew that part of it, Johnnie. I did. I just didn’t know that you getting a girlfriend with this work meant that it’s okay to just push her away.”
“That’s not-“
“if it’s not what you do then please tell me.” You motion towards him and he takes a deep breath, shaking his head.
“Fucking Christ, Johnnie. Leave me something, give me something.”
“What do you want, y/n?” Johnnie looks at you and you look at him, actually kind of shocked that he would even ask that, and right as you opened your mouth to say something, he cuts you off, “Sorry, that- stupid fucking question.”
You raise your brows, “You push me, and you pull me around, figuratively speaking. And I let you do it because I don’t want to leave.”
“I mean fuck Johnnie. I feel like I’m a speaker that is about to blow because it can’t handle much more bass, my head feels like it’s going to explode but I’m still here, because I love you, and and we’re good, we���re good.”
He looks at you and your eyes meet his, “I fucking love you, and I just.. I’m fucking starving for attention Johnnie. Your attention.”
You feel your throat burn, “I didn’t ever really think that it.. it was too much to ask, but honestly, we need to work on this or you let me out be-“
Johnnie starts talking, and he sounds mad, “You want to leave?”
You sigh, feeling exhausted with repeating yourself, “No, Joh-“ you groan, “I literally just said that I don’t and said why.”
You run a hand through your hair, fighting back the tears harder, “Fuck. Okay.” You take a deep breath and look down, you can’t hold back the tears when you think of the next thing you wanted to bring to his attention.
“I just.. for the last few weeks, I feel like I’ve been balancing on a razor blade around you. I’m supposed to be here to help you relax after a long stressful day. Instead, I just feel like I add to it.”
He shakes his head, “No, baby.”
You keep your gaze on the floor, taking in a quiet breath as you look up and wipe your face, “We’ve been together a year, Johnnie.”
You drop your hands, the slap echoing through the room and he just stares at you, “Our anniversary was yesterday, I waited to see if you’d remember, I even set a reminder in your phone a few days ago.”
You let out a stressed laugh, “I just.. we were doing so good and then it’s like I became one of your friends, your roommate who you occasionally sleep with.”
Tears fall down your cheeks, “How the fuck does that happen, Johnnie?”
At that moment, Jake walks through the door with Tara and you turn away. Johnnie walks up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “All good guys, we’re just-“
Johnnie walks you to the bedroom and you can tell just from that conversation that Jake and Tara were definitely concerned.
Johnnie shuts the door, and you turn to him, “Why am I here if that’s all we’re going to do? I’m just sitting here waiting for the start of things that I want with you, this happily ever after, with you.”
He stands there, “Well get that, I just..”
“How? Most of the time it just seems choking on your words and swallowing them is just a fast and easy way for you to not actually talk to me. You’re supposed to be my emergency contact, Johnnie. Someone I know will be there for me no matter what. Fuck, the last few nights, I’ve ended up passing out on the couch while you slept in the bed. I just can’t sleep anymore knowing that I don’t know where the hell I stand in your life anymore.”
“I love you.” He steps closer, “Please, don’t judge me for what I’m about to say.”
You look at him confused, “Never.”
He walks you over to the bed, “I forget that I have a girlfriend sometimes.”
You try not to laugh, “Um, okay.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes.
“I’m serious.. like you seen how Jake picked on me. I really haven’t had anyone in my life with the girlfriend label, and I just.. it feels so new to me.”
“So you need me to train you.” You smirk, looking over at him and he rolls his eyes, “I’m not a dog, babe.”
You reach over, ruffling his hair.
He really does have good sex appeal, because now that your villain has settled, all you can think about it making up this argument to him with sex, proving just how much you love him.
Johnnie’s hand slides to your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.
Or the other way around.
“I’m so sorry I forgot our anniversary.” He kisses you, continuing to speak In between kisses, “I’m sorry.. that I.. haven’t.. been here.”
He pushes you back onto the bed, moving to straddle your thighs. His hands push your shirt up, gripping your bare waist.
He stares down at you, your hands move to rest on his forearms.
“I’m sorry, I have been shitty. I had a bad day and you caught me at a bad time.” He leans down, lips brushing against yours, “Please don’t leave.” His voice is low, almost a whimper, likes he’s begging.
Your hands slide to his neck, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
The space closes between you and the grip on your hips tighten, “You’re a fucking angel.” He lifts his head, “My angel.”
You smile, biting your lip as he moves to push his legs in between yours. You move them, wrapping them around his waist.
He grinds his hard bulge against your clothed pussy, earning a surprise moan from you,
He kisses down your neck, “Love those pretty sounds.”
He bites down on your neck, earning more of the sounds he wants to hear, “Mine.” He bites down in a different spot, groaning as he grinds against you, “All mine.”
“All yours.” You agree, moving a hand up to tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, “Johnnie, please.” You whimper, “I need you.”
“You have me. All of me.” He kisses up to your lips, “You can always count on me. From here on out, I promise.”
His lips crash onto yours as his hands slide up your shirt, keading and groping at your bare tits, “So perfect.” He pauses, squeezing them slightly rough which gets you to moan out as your back lifts up from the bed, “F-Fuck.”
He sits up, moving to pull the tight, black tee from his body. You bite down on your lip as your eyes scan over his tattoo covered body.
You could never get enough of him.
You hands reach up and you work at undoing his belt, then the button on his jeans then finally, his zipper.
He pushes them down while you work on undressing yourself.
You toss your shirt to the floor and look up at him as you lay back down. His brushes hair from his eyes and you watch as they scan over your face.
He uses his teeth to play with his lip rings while his hand slides up your spread thigh. Your breath hitches when he stops just on the outer edge of your pussy.
You wiggle your hips and a smirk plays with his lips before he drags the tip of his pointer finger up and down your soaked folds.
A gasp escapes your lips and your groan, “More, baby. Please.”
You grip the sheets, clenching around his finger as he slides it in, “Yesyesyes.”
Johnnie leans down, moving to lay beside you. He nudges his nose against your cheek, “after this.. we can do anything you want.”
You nod, glancing down at his finger slowly sliding in and out of your pussy, “Johnnie.” You whine, “Stop teasing.”
He instantly starts to slip in his middle finger and you throw your head back, moaning out as you squeeze your walls around them.
“I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” He leans in, kissing your neck as the speed in the thrusts of his fingers picks up, “I’ll do anything you want.”
You reach over, hand wrapping around his cock, “Let me use my mouth on you.”
Johnnie bucks his hips slightly into your hand and he pulls his fingers out before rolling onto his back. He motions for you to come to him and when you go to bend down towards his cock he stops you.
“No, no. I’m making you feel good, too.” He reaches over, laying a hand in your thigh, “Sit on my face and lean that way.”
He points out from him and you catch on, facing away from him before swinging your leg over his head.
He wastes no time with grabbing your hips and pulling your down.
You let out a surprised moan, jumping slightly when you feel his tongue lap over your folds.
You lean down, moaning out as you lay the tip of his cock on your tongue. His hips buck and the grip on your hips tightens as he groans against you.
You take half of him in your mouth, swirling hour tongue as you bob your head.
Johnnie’s head slams onto the mattress away from you, hips bucking toward as he groans, “F-fuck..”. He digs his fingertips into your skin harder, “just like that, baby.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as you take him all the way in, gagging around him as his hips buck, “Shit, shit.” Johnnie lets out a groan, “F-fuck. Okay.”
He taps your hips and you lift your head, breathing heavy as you move to sit next to him.
He pulls you down, tongue slipping into your mouth as his lips press to yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, pulling him towards you.
He moves back to in between your legs and it wasn’t long ago all before his cock was slipping into your soaked cunt.
His head falls and his lips are against your neck, “Feels so fuckin’ good.” He groans lowly as he starts to thrust.
Your legs tighten around his waist and your chest presses against his, “H-harder please.” You turn your head, lips searching for his as he obeys your request.
His thrusts growing harsher, hips slamming into yours, earning whines and moans from you.
“M’so sorry, baby.” He mumbles against your lips, “I love you.” He groans, a hand coming up to gently lay on your neck.
“I love you.” You lay a hand on his, urging him squeeze harder.
He obliges, squeezing your neck which earns a squeak from you as your eyes roll closed.
Johnnie brings you closer to orgasm with his words, slowing his thrusts down as he whispers sweet and dirty things in your ear, “I love you so fucking much.”
“You’re so tight, fuck.”
“Sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re so fucking perfect.”
The band snaps. You cling to him, moans pour from your lips as he releases his grip and moves it down to rub rough circles on your clit, “There ya go, baby. Just like that.”
You roll your hips into his thrusts, whining out as he guides you through your high, “Cum in me.” You whimper out, pressing your lips to his in a sloppy manor, “Please, Johnnie.”
“F-fuck, fuck.” He grips your hips tight and you feel his cock twitch. You bite down on his lower lip and moan out, “Fill my pussy.”
Within seconds, he’s again, obliging to your request, which he will continue to do even after you’re done.
You moan, kissing him as you feel him thrust into you, pushing his cum as deep into you as it will go.
He brings his hand up, thumb brushing over your cheek, “I really am sorry, y/n.”
You peck his lips a few times gently, “It’s okay.” You whisper, biting down on your lip as he pulls out. You sit up, slowly moving to stand up.
As soon as you rise to your feet, Johnnie’s arms are around your waist and his voice is low, “You’re literally the best person I have in my life and I just want you to know that you are my emergency contact.”
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Thank you so much for reading! As always, please let me know what you thought. I love you all so so so much! 🖤
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#SamandColbyOwnMe#Johnnie Guilbert#Johnnie Guilbert smut#dirty johnnie guilbert#smut johnnie guilbert#johnnie guilbert x reader smut#johnnie guilbert one shots#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie guilbert one shot#Johnnie Guilbert dirty one shot#emergency contact#inspired by Pierce the Veil#pierce the veil#ptv#ptv emergency contact#smut#smut warning#dirty one shots#Johnnie Guilbert fluffy smut#fluffy smut
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Men I Love Fucking — milf lovers!hyung line (LHS, PJS, SJY, PSH)
hiiiiiiii! i, the president of dumb baby nation, have been gone for too long … here is my surprise comeback to enhablr (it’s so apt of me as mother to schedule my comeback for mother’s day) … i present to you, milf lover!hyung line :D enjoy >:)
minors dni, you know the drill. @karinasbaby and @enha-stars, this one's for you. thank you both for listening to me yap about this and helping me with ideas ≽ܫ≼
cw: degradation, breeding kink, sugar daddy jay, i got super carried away with jake's for some reason idk. sunghoon gets his own warning lmao
reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!
enjoy ♡
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heeseung loves milfs in the sense that he’s pining after his older sister’s best friend. he never looked your way before, but once you announced that you were pregnant, it was over for him. suddenly, he found himself spending his nights ignoring his friends’ requests to hop off the game, and instead in his bed, fucking his fist to the image of you, his sister’s best friend, belly round and tits swollen with milk, imagining that you were pregnant with his child. he fantasizes about which positions he'd use to knock you up with. doggy? reverse cowgirl? mating press? he thinks about it so much that he’s convinced he’s the father. and with the way you let him sneak into your house so he can lay you on your side and fuck you like he’s trying to get you pregnant again, he just might be the father. (he is, but you're holding onto that secret for as long as you can.)
another night of being his sneaky link sounds like:
“i thought us fucking was a one-time thing, but if i knocked you up on the first try, there’s no way i’m letting you go.”
“you just love this dick so much you had to have my baby, hm?”
“f-fuck, pussy’s so good, babe. still so fucking tight no matter what i do to you, isn’t that right?”
“gonna cum, fuck, fuck, turn over, please! wanna cum on your tits. they look so pretty, full of milk for our baby.”
———
jay loves milfs in the sense that he loves the dynamic. if you’re the milf, he’s the daddy who provides. you met him while waitressing at a restaurant that he just happened to be a regular at; he fell in love with how sweet you were whenever you’d be the one to wait on his table. he liked you so much he started requesting you by name whenever he’d come in. one thing led to another, and now here you are, sitting pretty in his penthouse apartment, with everything taken care of for you. he’s paying for you to go back to school, he’s paid off your debt, bought you a car, anything you want, it’s yours—all you have to do is give him your pussy whenever and wherever he wants it. jay’s just so devoted to you, because you make him feel like a man, in the purest sense of the word. he feels like a protector and a provider and he loves it and it’s all thanks to you.
above all else, jay is a provider first and foremost, giving you anything from money to gifts to his cum and his love:
“you like that new purse i got you, baby? yeah? then you know how to thank me. get on your knees.”
“you’re gonna take my cum and keep it in your little cunt for the rest of the day, and if any of it slips out, i might just return everything i bought you. don’t you understand? I’m trying to knock you up so you know who you belong to.”
(and months later, when he’s madly in love with you to the point of no return, begging you to marry him already:) “i’m the one who put that baby in you, i’m the one who loves you, i’m the one who takes care of you so well. and if i have to fuck you every night to prove that i want no one else but you, then i will.”
———
jake loves milfs in the sense that he’s an absolute dog. he’s cleaning pools for the summer while he’s on break from uni, and his clients are all lonely, rich, hot stay-at-home wives. he feels a sick little high just knowing he’s giving good dick to every milf on his roster, knowing that he’s fucking some guy’s wife and giving you orgasms that make you pay him double what he charges. he’s downright nasty, getting his dick sucked on an expensive leather armchair, fucking a beautiful pair of tits that some loser paid for and clearly has no idea how to use. and don’t get him started on when he visits his frat bros on his days off. their moms are fair game for him to fuck, too. he’ll corner you when you’re in the kitchen making apple pie for the boys, mumbling in your ear about how you’re such an angel, groping your ass, telling you to call him if she ever wants a creampie instead. you don’t even bother calling him. he’s tiptoeing into your room that night while your son and his other friends are fast asleep.
“what waste of good pussy,” jake spits out, pounding into you from behind. “your husband doesn’t know the first thing about fucking you, because if he did, you wouldn’t be so. fucking. tight.”
“you like that? like taking cock from your pool boy? nasty slut. i bet your pathetic husband would love to know how much you like it sloppy.”
“that’s it, yeah, use me like that fucking dildo i found in your bedside table. feels better than that stupid toy, doesn’t it, baby?”
“what? cum in you? nah, sweets, you’re gonna take my load on that pretty face of yours.”
———
sunghoon loves milfs in the sense that he’s bragging nonstop to his friends about how his girlfriend is a couple years older than him, and he’s basically “preordered a milf”. you might be his TA in one of his classes or his supervisor at work, whatever. either way, while the age gap isn’t so large or even visibly obvious, you don’t like acknowledging it. but when you do, it’s to take charge or to boss him around—and he’s had enough of it. one night, he corners you in your shared apartment, tired of you treating him like he’s a baby. you argue back that he’s your baby, but he’s not having it. “I’m an adult too, you know,” he murmurs in your ear, slotting his knee between your legs while he’s got you pushed up against the door of your bedroom. “let me take care of you, doll. i can show you just how good i can be.”
“my sweet little milf deserves the world, doesn’t she? if only she’d stop being a brat and just let me give it to her.”
“it feels good giving up control to me, doesn’t it?”
“tell me who’s in charge. say it. say my name… louder, baby doll, i can’t hear you. c’mon, let the neighbors know while you’re at it.”
“you’re so beautiful, baby… you deserve to not have to think about shit all the time. don’t you worry your pretty little head. from now on, i’ll handle everything for you… you can relax with me, just focus on how good this cock feels inside of you right now, hm?”
#🀄️thoughts#sunghoon smut#park sunghoon smut#heeseung smut#jay smut#enha smut#enha x reader#jake smut#enha jake smut#jake sim smut#jaeyun smut#actually lowkey how do yall find smut for jayke like that's crazy#enha hard thoughts#enha hard hours#i give up on the tags idc anymore
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Second Choice part 3
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Plot: After confirming your pregnancy you come face to face with your mate to break the news.
A/n I apologize in advance. Things are going to get sticky in the next part. Expect a lot of jealousy and feeling insecure.
Second Choice Masterlist
Two weeks have passed since you visited the spring court, and since you got confirmation that you were indeed pregnant. You were in denial at first, but as soon as Madja took your hands into hers and repeated that you were pregnant, you started to cry.
“If you are worried about giving birth, you do not need to worry anymore,” Madja tried to reassure you that you were going to be ok. That Nesta actually changed your anatomy along with hers and Feyre's after Feyre’s first pregnancy so you would have a safe birth.
“It’s not that,” you replied, “I’m so furious with Azriel right now. The last thing I want right now is to have his baby, but I also can’t bring myself to terminate this pregnancy.”
Madja gave you a sympathetic smile before standing up and hugging you, “It's going to be ok, and don’t worry, I won’t say a word to your mate, but I do suggest you talk to someone about this. If you do not wish to keep the child, maybe you could give it up for adoption. I know a few couples who would love a child.”
You pondered Madja’s offer for several days before realizing you couldn’t give up your child. Yes, it bothered you that Azriel was the father, but at the same time, you couldn’t give the baby up because you’ll always have the guilt of giving them up. Because of that, you decided to move back to your old home in Day Court for the duration of your pregnancy.
After discussing the situation with Rhysand and Feyre, they agreed to let you move for the duration. “You know you have to tell him before you leave tomorrow,” Rhysand reminded you again that you still have to tell Azriel you were pregnant with his child and that you were moving, “You might still be mad at him, but he’s your mate and the father of your child.”
“I know,” you replied, “I just know he’s going to lose it when he finds out and do everything in his power to stop the move,” and you were right.
You called Azriel to the cabin the following day after all of your belongings were taken to the day court. You didn’t know how to break the news to Azriel, so you just blurted it out. Azriel felt his throat become dry at your words, “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” you replied while rubbing your tiny baby bump.
Azriel rushed to you and dropped to his knees, “I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to be a family.” Azriel placed a kiss on your stomach and tried to wrap his arms around your body, but you had to back away before he had the chance.
“Just because we’re having a baby together doesn’t mean I’m moving back. In fact, I’ve decided to go home to the day court for the duration of my pregnancy. I need to be with family and-“
“You can’t go. As your mate, I’m prohibiting you from going,” Azriel responded, “I’m the child's father, and I want to be by your side the entire time.”
At that moment, Rhysand decided to step in and intervene before things got worse, “Actually, she has every right to do this. I’ve already talked with Helion, and he’s offered her a room for her at his palace. He said that because you are the father, you are welcome to visit, but he will ban you if you cross any boundaries or make y/n uncomfortable.”
Azriel felt like his world was crumbling around him as he realized you were leaving him. “Please don’t do this y/n. Please don’t leave me,” Azriel begged.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this. Don’t make it harder than it already is,” you responded firmly.
Your words cut Azriel deep, “Let me kiss you one last time. Please,” Azriel begged again.
You looked over at Rhysand, who gave you a knowing look. “Ok,” you whispered before you felt Azriel’s lips against yours. There was nothing but passion in the kiss you shared, and made you almost change your mind about your decision to move. Almost.
“Goodbye Azriel,” you kissed Azriel’s hands before you walked away with Rhysand.
The second you arrived at the day court, Helion embraced you, “It’s so good to have you back home y/n. We’ve missed you here.”
“I missed you guys too,” you smiled at Helion before you looked over at Rhysand who was picking a piece of lint from his jacket, “Are you going to stay awhile or-"
“No,” Rhysand replied, “I have to head back, but please enjoy yourself while you're here. But do let us know if you need anything.”
You were about to thank him for everything he had done for you when Helion interrupted, “Come now. I will have my staff set up a nursery for your child. In the meantime, I’ll show you to your room,” Helion kissed your forehead before putting his arm around you and taking you to your new room.
Rhysand didn’t miss how possessively Helion was holding onto you and wondered if you staying at the day court was a mistake.
@lilah-asteria @lees-chaotic-brain @sleepylunarwolf @iluvyewman-blog
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Not So Grumpy (Part 2)
Part 1 Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!pregnant!wife!reader
Summary: Months after being introduced to the rookies, you get a chance to see them again. After your baby is born and Tim's grumpiness continues, you finally have a chance to properly meet them.
Warnings: grumpy!Tim is a softie for his wife and baby, there's a baby but no details about labor or anything, lots and lots of fluff, Wopez spoilers (s1-2)
Word Count: 1.3k+ words
A/N: This was better in my head. Oh well.
It’s been almost three months since Tim “introduced” you to the rookies. While you’ve been prepping the nursery, attending doctor’s appointments, and trying different stretches to prepare your body for labor, you haven’t seen Tim any more or less than usual. Halfway through your pregnancy, he got clingy with you and grumpy with everyone else. Though you haven’t been around the station recently, you assume that hasn’t changed. While thinking about Tim, you gasp and hold your stomach as you breathe through a contraction. You’re ready to meet your baby but still have a while to go. Plus, you have to make sure Tim is there. He’s grumpy enough without missing the birth of his first child.
You found the perfect onesie during your trip to the store and can’t wait to show Tim. You and Tim decided not to learn the gender of your baby, and the neutral-colored onesie with a police car and “My Dad’s a Superhero” made you smile, so you had to buy it. Plus, you’re experiencing contractions and miss Tim, so you drop by the station unannounced.
As you walk in, someone calls your name. You look up and smile when you see Angela Lopez waving.
“Hi, Officer Lopez,” you greet.
“Please, it’s Angela. Are you here to see Tim?”
“I am.”
“I don’t know where he is but come with me. We’ll find him.”
“Thank you.”
“How is everything? With Tim and the pregnancy?”
“Good. Baby’s healthy, Tim is amazing.”
Angela snorts before she tries to cover it with a cough. You don’t have time to ask her what is so funny before someone else says your name. At least you recognize the voice this time.
“Hi, Tim,” you reply with a smile.
He nods once before he takes your hand and leads you away from Angela. You wave over your shoulder, and she smiles knowingly. Alone in an empty hallway, you extend the bag toward Tim. He takes it but sets it down to hug you before opening it.
“You okay?” you ask as he pulls you close.
“Better now,” he answers softly.
“I can’t imagine you being grumpy,” you answer, rubbing your hand along his spine.
“I miss you.”
“Just a few more weeks and then you’ll spend every minute with me and a baby. You’ll be begging to come back.”
Tim pulls back and rolls his eyes at you. You know he will be a great father because he’s already an amazing husband. Not that you’d admit it, but you’ve been counting the minutes until he gets to stay home with you and help you recover and care for your baby.
“Officer Bradford,” someone says at the end of the hallway.
You step back and take the onesie from Tim as he turns.
“What?” he replies shortly.
“Grey needs to see us in ten minutes,” Angela adds, pushing her rookie Jackson away from Tim.
“Then I’ll be there in ten minutes. For now, leave me alone.”
“Angela,” you say, stepping to Tim’s side. “Thanks for the gift. I really appreciate it.”
Tim takes a deep breath before thanking her. She sent a gift home with him months ago, even though she didn’t really know you.
“Of course. I’m glad you like it,” Angela replies.
“And I’d- we’d- love to have you over for dinner after everything settles down. And Jackson, Lucy, and Nolan can come too, if they’d like.”
“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly. She steps around the corner and looks at you rather than Tim’s glare.
“About time we get to meet properly, right?” you reply.
“I’m going to go tell them,” Lucy cheers before disappearing again.
“Don’t you dare,” Tim snaps. “You got an invite. Learn to keep personal matters personal, Chen.”
You wrap your hand around Tim’s forearm, and his shoulders drop as he exhales. There’s no apology, but he stops yelling at Lucy.
“Here,” you say.
Tim races to hold you as you bend down to retrieve the bag. He scolds you lovingly for moving too much before he takes it from your hand. You smile and nod toward the bag. Tim shakes his head in loving annoyance before pulling the onesie out. He holds it up to read it, and his face softens as every semblance of grumpiness disappears.
Throughout the progression of your pregnancy, as his paternity leave gets closer, Tim has grown less grumpy. Part of him hates that he has missed so much of your pregnancy, though, and that anger and disappointment comes out at work. As he folds the onesie and places it back in the bag, he pulls you against his side and kisses your temple.
“Superhero, huh?” he asks.
“We think so,” you answer.
Tim looks down at where your hand rests on your bump and covers your hand with his.
“I promise not to miss so much next time,” he whispers.
“You haven’t missed anything,” you assure him. “Make sure you’re at the hospital to catch the baby, that’s all I need.”
“I will be. I’ll be there the moment your water breaks.”
You smile and tilt your head to kiss Tim’s jaw. “Wait, next time?”
5 Months Later
“Hi, Angela!” you say as you open the door. You pull her into a hug before leading her toward the kitchen. “How’s everything with Wesley?”
“Good. I found out he’s, like, disgustingly rich, so that was something,” Angela answers.
“Interesting,” you agree. “And the mom situation?”
“Remedied. I can understand his side of it now, too.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Tim asks from the kitchen. “He’s a lawyer, that’s all I know, and I have to see Angela every day.”
“Have to see,” Angela scoffs. “We’re BFFs, just admit it.”
“No.”
Someone else knocks, and you remind Tim to be kind as you leave to invite everyone in. Lucy, Nolan, and Jackson are waiting excitedly at your door. Lucy hands you a small gift bag as she enters.
“Thank you,” you say. “Come on in. Kitchen’s this way.”
The baby monitor on the island blinks before your baby’s cries fill the kitchen.
“I got it,” Tim murmurs. He picks up the monitor and drags a hand across your back as he walks toward the nursery.
“Did you find a solution to the closet problem?” Lucy asks as she sits beside you. “Oh, and you look amazing by the way.”
“Thank you. And I did.” You chuckle before pointing out, “You text with questions about where to go for a second date and I’m asking about storage solution for newborn clothes.”
“Because you’re happily married and not destroying your apartment in an attempt to look good for a guy who calls you the wrong name,” Jackson adds.
“Jackson!” Lucy exclaims.
“Sorry, but it’s true.”
“You text them?” Tim asks as he returns with your baby in his arms.
“Oh my gosh,” Lucy coos at the sight.
Tim narrows his eyes at her before looking back at you.
“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t introduce us, so I took it into my own hands,” you answer. “You need anything?”
“Hey, how long have you guys been together?” Nolan asks.
“I don’t like this,” Tim complains as he returns to the kitchen.
“He’ll drop the act soon,” you whisper conspiratorially.
“It’s not an act,” Tim calls. “So, it will go away when they do!”
After your dinner company leaves, you take care of the dishes while Tim spends quality time with your baby. As you walk into the room, he extends an arm toward you. You make yourself comfortable against his side as Tim holds the baby against his chest. He may be grumpy with everyone but the two of you, but you wouldn’t change a thing, and Tim wouldn’t either.
“I love you,” you whisper in the comfort of your shared home and life.
“I love you,” Tim replies. “Enough that I can stop being grumpy.”
#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x y/n#tim bradford x you#tim bradford fluff#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford#the rookie abc#fem!reader
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From the prompt list I am BEGGING for 14 and 48 with Eddie PLEASE 😩 (optional but it could also be so cute if he kneels down and ties readers shoe after it gets untied before reader even notices)
I love this idea! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!
Prompts used: 14. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you before you believe it?” and 48. “I’m going to fucking worship you.”
Eddie x fem!reader
cw: MDNI 18+ oral (f receiving) wee bit of hurt/comfort
Despite being with Eddie for over a year, you still felt yourself getting insecure about your relationship. He had been your first and only boyfriend and you still weren’t used to that kind of attention or affection all the time. Other men hadn’t really even looked your way until he came around so constantly having someone treat you with so much love and care was still new.
Eddie was one of the sweetest men you had come across in your town full of assholes. He’d always pay the check when you’d go out, keep your favorite snacks in his pantry, and even lay his jacket down when you came across a puddle so your shoes wouldn’t get wet.
He was also so patient with you when you got insecure about your relationship. Any time you’d get jealous or need a little more reassurance, he’d just pull you into his arms and tell you that he loved you and that there was nothing to worry about, but that only worked for so long.
It usually got bad when you were falling asleep, your anxieties reaching their peak and getting the best of you. You’d just let it all swirl around in your mind, driving yourself mad as you laid awake, your boyfriend sound asleep next to you.
What if it was all an elaborate prank?
What if he was just lying about loving you to make you feel better?
What if he was going to break up with you because your insecurities were getting too much?
Those were the questions that haunted you even though you were sure that it was all in your head. That was really the root of the problem. It was all just unnecessary worries that your brain had come up with out of nowhere.
“And then I said-honey? You still with me?” You zoned back in and realized that you were with Eddie in his van as he was driving you home after a date. He gave your thigh a squeeze where his hand was resting on it and you turned to him.
“I’m good, Eds, I swear.” You definitely weren’t, but you didn’t want to tell him that. You couldn’t have that conversation yet again.
“No bs?” That was Eddie’s way of asking if you were lying because he knew you would just so you wouldn’t have to have the conversation. He always wanted you to feel like you could talk to him about whatever was bothering you.
“Maybe a little.” He pulled up to his trailer and and put the van in park before unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face you.
“Alright,” he sighed. “Let’s talk inside.” He rounded the front of the van and opened the door for you. He held his hand out to you and you took it, hopping down from the seat.
Before you could get too far, Eddie stopped you and crouched down to tie your shoe. It warmed your heart that he would do stuff like that for you even when he was upset with you. It showed just how selfless he was when it came to the people he loved.
And Eddie did love you. He loved you so much that he couldn’t handle it. His heart was just so full of the feeling and it hurt him knowing that you had yet to believe that he really did feel that way about you. Maybe just one more time and you’d be sure.
Eddie led you inside the trailer and you were grateful that Wayne wasn’t home to hear you argue. Eddie kept hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze as soon as stepping closer to you. His other hand grabbed hold of your jaw, gently lifting your head so you would look up at him. His eyes bored into yours and you already knew what he was going to say and you didn’t want to hear it.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I love you before you believe it?” His other hand moved to the other side of your face, moving it so that it was only inches away from yours.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, okay? I just-”
“What, honey?” His voice was so soft and sweet and you felt like you didn’t deserve it.
“No one’s ever felt that way about me before and I guess-I guess I just don’t understand why someone could.” Eddie pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a hug.
“Oh, honey,” he rested his chin on top of your head while your arms wrapped around his waist. He had no idea that you had felt that and wished he had asked instead of just assuming that you didn’t love him back.
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t believe that you were apologizing for the way you felt. You couldn’t control that.
“Nothing to be sorry about, honey.” His hands rubbed along your back as he pulled back to look at you. “How about I show you just how much I love you?”
“Show me?” You bat your eyelashes and Eddie felt his dick getting hard.
“I’m going to fucking worship you.” He pulled you into a messy kiss filled with clanking teeth and noses pressing into cheeks, but you eventually figured it out. He licked into your mouth and you let him in as he backed you up to the couch.
He pushed you down onto it and placed himself on top of you before pulling you in for another rough kiss. Your hands slid down his back and grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt before pulling it over his head. It dropped to the floor in a messy pile and Eddie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of your cardigan. He unbuttoned them one by one and it eventually opened, your tits on full display.
Eddie had seen you naked so many times, but every time always seemed like the first when he got a view of your naked chest. He dove in and licked a stripe across one of your nipples before pulling the whole thing into his mouth, giving it a suck.
“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands moving into his hair and pressing into his scalp. He sucked and licked, causing multiple moans to fall from your lips, tugging onto his hair as you did so.
Once you thought he was done, he took your nipple between his teeth and gave it a pull, causing you to bury your fingers further into his hair, pulling on whatever strands you could grasp.
“Eddie, oh my god, so good.”
“You like that?” He chuckled and moved over to your other tit, hovering his mouth other it, wanting to make you beg for it.
“More,” was all you were able to say. “Please, Eddie.”
“Love your tits, honey,” he said, glancing up at your face before moving his gaze back to your breasts. “Honestly the best set I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?”
“Don’t believe me?” Of course you believed him. He complimented your tits any chance he got.
“I don’t know. I think I need some more.” You were desperate for his mouth back on you, needing to feel his teeth and tongue.
“Okay,” he nodded and took your other nipple into his mouth, giving it an even harder suck and you arched your back in pleasure.
“Sh-shit, Eddie. Fuck!” Eddie felt himself get even more hard at your moans, always loving watching you come undone by just him using his mouth. He licked, sucked and bit until your nipple was red and kissed his way down your stomach.
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he said as his lips got to your bellybutton. He pressed a kiss to it then continued down to the top of your skirt. “I mean it, honey. You’re a fucking smoke show.”
Your cheeks were burning at his compliments and you loved how easily how they fell out of his mouth, knowing how much he meant them even though your insecurity told you that he was lying.
“Can I take this off? Need to taste you.”
“Please take it off. I need to feel your mouth on my pussy.” Your words came out so breathy and desperate and Eddie found your neediness so hot.
He quickly pulled your panties off out from under his skirt and toss them aside before quickly unzipping the side of your skirt and both of you widened your eyes when you heard a ripping noise.
“It’s fine,” you waved it off.
“I can sew it back together,” he assured you before pulling the skirt down your legs and letting it fall to the floor.
Eddie got off of the couch and lowered himself down on his knees before grabbing onto your ankle and pulling you so your ass was at the edge of the couch cushion. He then spread your legs and let out a whistle as he took sight of your pussy.
“Damn, sugar, this might be the wettest you’ve ever been. Can’t wait to get a taste.”
He held up one of your legs and slowly kissed all the way up to your thigh then did the same thing with your other one before draping both of them over his shoulders. He then dove into your cunt, his nose brushing it, causing you to let out a gasp. He started out slow, licking back and forth from your slit to your clit, then began to suck.
“Eddie,” you moaned, your hands finding his hair again. He continued to suck and lick, swirling his tongue around as he did so, driving you absolutely wild.
“Think this is the best you’ve ever tasted honey, swear to god,” he moaned.
Eddie grabbed onto your thighs and pulled you closer so he had more access to your cunt and shoved his tongue inside it, swirling it around as you reached your climax. Your legs tighten around his head and his hands moved to your waist, digging into the skin as he worked his magic with his mouth.
“Eddie, I think I’m gonna-”
“I think you already did,” he looked up at you with a devilish grin then pressed a kiss to your bud before removing your legs from his shoulders. He rested his hands on your knees and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes.
“Now do you see how much I love you?”
“I think I’m starting to.” With that, Eddie picked you up and carried to the bathroom where the two of you shared a much needed shower, exchanging “I love you’s” to each other while you cleaned each other up.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader
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𝒜 𝒮𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉
pairing: Fem Gamer!reader + Jung Wooyoung
w/c: 2k
Genre: Established Relationship, Smut, Slight Angst (woo is a sad boy for two secs)
Summary: On a day of virtual gaming and fun with your friends, a monthly tradition that you all enjoy, your boyfriend arrives home with some small favor that you simply can’t deny.
Tws: Swearing/Foul Language
Sws: Pussy Eating (Woo goes mf IN my guy), Sensory Stimulation/Kink, Hair Pulling, Teasing, Overstimulation, Oral Fixation, Thigh Smothering, Pleasing Sub Woo (for the most part at least), Begging, Pussy Face Fuck, Slight Orgasm Denial
𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: If the brain keeps cooking, let her cook as I always say. This is an idea that came to me randomly as I was getting ready in the morning. If anyone would like another part of this shot, please let me know! Otherwise enjoy and please let me know what you think. Thank you!
𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕚𝕕 + ℕ𝕠𝕟𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕! ℙ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥!
As a reminder, my work is only for those who are eighteen years or older. Anyone who attempts to interact with my work or blog who is underage will be blocked immediately. You have been warned.
©𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 2024 || 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ♡
☆ . ° .*₊° . ☆⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙𓆩⟡𓆪⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙. • ☆ . ° ☆
“Hey, Y/N! You missed your shot! What happened?”
“S-Sorry! My computer’s acting weird!”
Your fingers tightened around the ridges of your controller, trying to keep your breathing leveled and your body relaxed.
You could only hope that you didn’t sound too weird on the other line where your friends were talking and having playful banter.
It was game night after all, the titular moment of the month where everyone chooses their favorite game to play for a few hours to relax and unwind from the hustle and bustle of life and its demanding nature.
It had become somewhat a tradition after completing college and going on with your separate lives to keep in touch somehow— even if it meant through pixelated hand to hand combat.
Unfortunately for your friends, and consequently yourself, they didn’t have an oh so loving yet sometimes mischievous boyfriend named Wooyoung to subdue.
Genuinely, the moment of pure suspicion should have come when he entered the room 15 minutes ago, an all too sweet smile lingering on his face as rolled over beside you. With a phone in his hand and otherwise rapt attention to the shooter game your crew had indulged in, you had honestly thought nothing of it.
It wasn’t until about less than halfway through your match that you began to notice his demeanor become a bit..off out of your peripherals.
His glances at you began to linger a bit longer, his eyes combed down your figure with longer glances towards your favorite fluffy panda shorts and matching over the knee socks.
He was debating something, but you were too absorbed in the game with your mic turned on to ask him.
It wasn’t until his hand fell onto your thigh, brushing his thumb against it that you knew something was up.
Once the first match finally came to a close, you excused yourself and muted your mic.
“Baby, do you need to ask me something? You were waiting so long, I’m sorry.”
The boy perked and you almost immediately noticed the way the top of his cheeks began to tinge a light shade of pink.
“Mm, no it’s okay. I don’t want to keep you away from your game-” His words were cut off by a small, loving peck with a warm smile. You cupped his cheeks, hearing your friends chattering on the other line through your headsets.
“It’s okay, I have some time. What is it, Woobie?”
He hesitated, biting the inside of his lip with eyes flickering between your computer screen and your face. The longer he took to respond, the more concerned you started to become.
Were you playing so much that he felt nervous to ask for your attention?
“Wooyoung? Are you-”
“I wanted to taste you.”
Your eyes nearly bugged out. “H-Huh?”
Wooyoung cleared his throat, shifting himself in his computer chair, his eyes glued to the ground.
“We haven’t messed around or anything in a while— I know you’ve been busy and so have I so it’s been difficult for us to both be in the mood and not too tired for it to happen.” He took in a short inhale and looked directly into your eyes.
“But I miss you so badly and it’s driving me crazy..please?”
It took a minute for your mind to system reboot after his confession before you cupped his cheeks, pressing a more lingering kiss onto his lips. When the two of you separated, you searched his face for any lingering feelings besides the evident lust and desire.
My poor baby..
“Yo where the hell is she? I wanna start the next round~”
“I don’t know! Y/N! Are you there?”
“Sorry guys! I needed to help Wooyoung with something. I’ll be there in just a sec!” You released your finger off the speaker button, turning your attention back to your patient lover, waiting for your response still.
With fingers combing lovingly through his hair, you give him a small nod of approval. He almost immediately shakes his head, taking your hand and presses open mouth kisses to the back of them.
“I need to hear you say it. Do you want me to please you?”
You bite the inside of your lip, feeling yourself throb at the sensation of his tongue running slowly against your knuckles. He doesn’t push you for a response, leisurely continuing his actions down your hand to your fingertips.
He fixes you with a calm, yet sweltering stare, finding back a laugh or smile at the way you seemingly shrink back in response.
“O-Okay you can. Just don’t make me mess up too hard on my game. I d-don’t want the others to-AH!”
Wooyoung barely wastes any time after being given the green light, kicking his chair back towards his desk after grabbing the cushion from off of it. He finds his way comfortably on the floor, pulling you forward by your legs and stirring a yelp out of you. He mumbles something about how good you smell and the cuteness of your outfit whilst simultaneously yanking your bottoms off in one fell swoop.
That’s how you got here, with your one leg being held off to the side and the other perched onto your needy boyfriend’s shoulder, panties “unfortunately” being ripped and his tongue dragging against your clit.
You were silently ordered by his glance and a raise of an eyebrow to continue playing your game, biting back a small moan that was threatening to fall past your lips as he glided his tongue up and down your whole core.
He let out a small hum, not loud enough to be heard by anyone but you and him, reaffirming his grip possessively as he languidly spit on your clit. He watched it slowly trickle down before slurping around the slightly puffy bud.
Your muscles tightened in his grasp, mouth drawing open into a small ‘o’ with half lidded eyes, struggling to keep yourself focused enough to follow the orders given by your team.
Every single ounce of the game contrasted with the pure torture that you were being subjected to, albeit by your own approval.
And of course tonight was the one night that he decided to take his time to make every string keeping you together would slowly begin to snap.
He moved his hands up to your waistline, keeping himself pressed against you and rendering your lower half completely at will to him, shifting your dripping cunt up and down against his tongue with dark eyes.
“Take the shot, Y/N! Take it!”
You practically slammed your thumb against the button of your controller, the boom of your weapon cracking into your ears though you barely registered if your aim was even correct. Your body slid a quarter down, controller barely hanging on one hand as you gripped the top of Wooyoung’s hair and rolled down in unison.
“M-Mm!” You pressed your lips together, removing your hand to shakily press a button on your headphones and shoving them off your head with the mic turned away from your mouth, sweat dripping down your chin as you fought the urge to beg.
His lips upturned at the sight of your disheveled look.
Not yet, just a little more.
You held back a whine when his speed slowed, believing that maybe he was going to take mercy on you with the kisses pressed to your inner thighs, and turned your attention back to the game.
Though your movements were slowed from your head nearly spinning, you continued on with the match.
Moments later, he had his eyes on you again, sucking one of your lips hard in his mouth and letting it out with a loud pop.
Before you could even begin to lightly scold him, he pushed down on your mound with his palm and flicked his tongue quickly against your clit before groaning and burying his face into you, sucking on your clit hungrily and messily.
He ignored the mix of drool and juices that ran down his chin and dripped onto the chair. His only care in the world was the way your eyes immediately screwed shut and your chair creaked in protest from being bent backward.
Wooyoung’s eyes nearly rolled at the sensations of your fluffy socks brushing against his ears and pressure of your thighs around his head, brushing his tongue against your entrance before abusing her swollen bud between his lips.
“W-Woo, p-please!” The cry slipped past your lips without a second thought, unable to control the tremble of your thighs and flexing of your stomach muscles as you inched closer to your release.
“You don’t have to beg baby.” He purred, taking the short second to breathe with lips shimmering.
“I’ll give you anything you want and more.”
He dipped his head back down, reveling in the filthy noises that were erupting from your mouth as he slurped loudly, nodding his head and tightening his hold on you hard to keep you from running away from him.
You’ve almost completely forgotten about your game now, instead chasing the sweet high that has you reaching for anything to steady yourself.
With one hand gripping the head of the chair and the other one his head, your whole body jolts with a sharp and shaky moan, cumming on his face.
He wickedly lets out a muffled chuckle, eyes falling closed to collect his prize against your feeble pushes of his head and whines of desperation. Satisfaction on his face, he finally releases you and earns a swift smack to the back of his head.
“Y-You said you weren’t going to distract me too much from my game!”
“I didn’t say anything.” His voice dripped with lust still, moving himself up to your face with a lazy smile. Your eyes narrowed at him with an arm slung around his shoulders, allowing him to enjoy your deep kisses and tongue before you tugged him back by his hair.
“Are you going to punish me? Do it. Please?” You shook your head in disbelief, seeing him smile wide and laugh.
“Yo, Y/N! At least mute your mic if you’re going to have a live session with your boyfriend!”
You push Wooyoung off of you and scramble to slide your headsets back on, only to realize that the button you pressed was for noise cancellation, not muting.
“Oh my god, I cannot believe I had to be subjected to that! And it was in the middle of our game?!”
“Next time, just tap out of the round!”
A chorus of laughter erupted over the call mixed in with you cursing them out through stutters and your burning cheeks, yelling for them to stop teasing you.
Snapping your head around to the doorway, Wooyoung made himself comfortable leaning against the frame, swiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and lightly sucking on it with a smirk.
“You are so fucking dead.”
.☆ . ° . *₊ ° . ☆. °:. *₊ 🄶🄰🄼🄴 🄾🅅🄴🅁!.. • ☆ ᵗʳʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!. . • ☆ . °:. *₊ ° .☆
𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @atiny-piratequeen @atiny-dazzlinglight @kimnamshiks @little-lazuli @catnipacid
.☆ . ° . *₊ ° . ☆. °:. *₊ 🄶🄰🄼🄴 🄾🅅🄴🅁!.. • ☆ ᵗʳʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!. . • ☆ . °:. *₊ ° .☆
#kira kira writes !!#ateez smut#wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#kpop smut#ateez fic#wooyoung x fem reader
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14. phone calls & 37. ‘I missed you.’ with Buck's Boyfriends. 🩵
I was teasing you about asking for two, but technically this makes three...you really are special...anyways. Here you go my darling 🩵
Eddie paces the backyard, phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring. He can hear the chirping grasshoppers in the distance, the sounds mingling with the croaking frogs and wind dancing through the tall grass of the nearby field. Above him, the stars are bright, clustered together and so vibrant compared to the ones hidden behind smog back home in Los Angeles.
“Eddie!”
His entire body relaxes at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, “Buck.”
“Hold on.” Buck says and then there’s some shuffling before something thuds, followed by a muffled swear from Buck and another voice asking if he’s alright. Eddie smiles as he tilts his head back to look up at the night sky, waiting. “Okay. I’m back.”
“And I’m here.”
“Tommy.” Eddie exhales fully.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“You okay, babe?”
“M’fine.” Eddie says to the stars. “Just…I missed you.” He swallows, “I missed you both.”
“Even though you called us this afternoon?” Buck teases lightly, but Eddie can hear the underlying worry in his tone.
“Please,” Tommy scoffs, and Eddie can easily see his one boyfriend sending his other boyfriend a pointed look, “You were practically begging to call him back right after we hung up.”
“Hey! That was supposed to be kept a secret!”
“Was it? Oops.”
Eddie chuckles as he adjusts his hold on the phone; yes, he had called earlier, but being back here in Texas was hard. Harder than any other time. He doesn’t know why. Maybe because there’s so much more for him back in Los Angeles. Maybe because this is the trip where he’s going to come out to his family.
They know he’s queer – that had been a difficult and long conversation, but one Eddie had been glad he’d done. It had taken a few days for his parents to talk to him again, both explaining that they simply needed to process, but that they still loved him. Abuela had flown out the moment she found out they’d gone silent on him, and held him tight as he cried.
But now, Eddie wants them to know he’s with two men. Two men who he thinks he’ll be spending the rest of his life with.
He’s not sure how this conversation will go.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Tommy asks gently, carefully. Eddie wants to be home and in his arms. It’s safer.
“Uhm, yeah. I think so.”
“We can fly out, still.” Buck comments. “There’s a flight that leaves at two. We’d be there for you first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be okay, baby. Thanks.” Buck had been insistent on coming with Eddie, not wanting him to be alone, but Tommy had been the one to see that Eddie needed to do this on his own. Eddie’s glad that they’ll be there waiting for him to come home. “Tell me about your day?”
And despite them having talked only that afternoon, Buck starts to ramble on about this and that, distracting Eddie from the conversation he’ll be having with his parents in the morning.
Send me a soft prompt for a drabble
#eddie diaz#evan buckley#tommy kinard#buddietommy#911 drabble#buddietommy drabble#tanis answers#al 🐊
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First of all thank you for writing for Jeff Sadecki. I recently got into Yellowjackets. I have to say I’m hooked. Jeff is just such a baby girl. The sub that just wants to please, I also don’t think he would have many limits.
Imagine coming home from a stressful day at work. To find Jeff completely naked on his knees at the door ready to serve he’s wearing a dog hood and dog tail dildo, just ready to please. Till he sees his master enter utterly angry and disappointed with the days work. Just looking down at Jeff.
Jeff’s master just ignores him and walks to their sofa and sits, poor Jeff just whines and follows on his hands and knees rubbing his face on his masters thighs, till he grinds on his leg, listening about how bad the day was.
How would our baby girl Jeff take cock stepping, feeling his boyfriend/husband master grinding his foot over his pretty red dick? All the while cock warming, I think he’d be scared at first, a little anxious but really enjoys the friction
If no one's giving us what we want, I gotta be the one to!! I'm glad you enjoy them :3
Jeff is the person to give and give. He loves attention and he tries his best to give it back. Jeff finds the best gift is his body. He loves the way you treat him softly.
I think he's horny consantly, day dreaming about dick. On the other hand, you have more on you mind than sex though seeing his sad puppy dog eyes, pleading makes you cave into his wants.
Much like a real dog, he sits without a word listening to you rant, just basking in what little attention you give him.
It doesn't just as long as you stick a knotted dildo on the floor as he ruts against your leg. He'll nuzzle at your crouch as he does so.
After the stress melts away and your dick now fully hard, you'll drag him onto the couch and fuck him satisfied.
I think Jeff would love cock stepping. The weight of your foot against his aching dick. Just grinding until a wet patch ruin the front of his jeans. Grind until he's nearing release and that your foot off. Watch him beg. Nervous at first now replaced with the need to chase every small bit of friction.
#☆*cj's inbox 📥#☆*anon asks#jeff sadecki#jeff sadecki x male reader#yellowjackets#dom male reader#sub character
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Diva
Coriolanus takes one last glance in the mirror before exiting the closet. He looks perfect.
He really shouldn't worry too much about his appearance, not tonight when it's supposed to be a somewhat casual dinner but he can't help but feel the need to always show up and show off.
He is, after all, a Snow.
Tonight marks the beginning of his Presidential campaign and to celebrate his bright and glorious future, he's invited several friends over to his penthouse. Most of his friends have coupled up at this point in their lives, going nowhere without their significant others.
Not that he can blame them. He does the same thing himself.
He strides into the hallway and towards the dining room where he finds Soarynn setting the plates. All the napkins have been perfectly folded, all the correct utensils put in place and she's gone with the plates that have roses painted onto them.
If she hadn’t chosen to go into fashion, she certainly could be an event planner.
He scans the dining room table, pleased with the setup until he notices the centerpiece is bigger than usual, and it’s…moving.
Petunia.
“Darling,” he says, approaching the table where Petunia has made herself right at home, “why is Petunia still out?”
Petunia hisses at him as if on instinct and Soarynn frowns and scoops her up, cradling her as if the cat is a small child. Coriolanus notices how smug the feline looks, “Why wouldn’t she be out? Everyone loves her,” Soarynn replies. Unfortunately, she’s right. Most of their friends and acquaintances are smitten with Petunia who constantly demands attention whenever people come over.
But tonight is about him.
Coriolanus knows he has to be firm with his decision, and as the head of their small household, he ought to be respected as well. “Go put her in our bedroom, she’ll have much more fun in there than out here begging for our attention.”
Soarynn frowns and looks down at her cat who’s already looking up at her, waiting for her to protest her luxurious imprisonment. “Are you sure?” She asks softly, rubbing Petunia’s head, “Suppose she gets lonely?”
Coriolanus nearly rolls his eyes at that suggestion which in his opinion, is a weak argument. “Suppose she scratches someone’s eyes out, then what will we do?” He counters before taking the last few steps to reach the love of his life, “I’m not asking darling, she needs to be put away until the night is over.” He rests a hand on her waist and Soarynn sighs, which means he won.
“Alright. Let’s go get you settled before the guests arrive Petunia,” Soarynn says to the cat who is staring at Coriolanus like he’s the bane of her existence. Coriolanus gives her a smirk before heading into the kitchen to make sure everything’s been prepared properly.
Normally, he isn’t too fond of having servants in the house, too much risk of them stealing something. But the cook that Soarynn hired a few months ago for things like this has proven to be fantastic at her job. “Good evening Mr. Snow,” she nods before getting back to the food. Coriolanus nods in return and is more than pleased with the spread she’s prepared.
“The guests will be arriving shortly,” he tells her before walking into the living room. He and Soarynn spent a good part of the afternoon making sure that everything was spotless. Soarynn joins him a moment later with a flustered look on her face and Coriolanus can only guess why. It probably has something to do with the constant yowling he can hear from down the hall.
“I take it she didn’t appreciate being relocated to the bedroom,” he muses and Soarynn shakes her head, “The poor darling didn’t want to let me go.”
Petunia, for the most part, is a loving house cat who adores Soarynn with all her heart. Coriolanus always thought that no one on earth could love Soarynn the way he did. Then Petunia came along. He truly has no one to blame but himself considering he was the one who made the decision to bring her into their home.
The pet-shop owner had been nothing but enthusiastic about his purchase. “They sleep all day,” the man had said. What he should have said was: “They knock down vases and try to eat your socks, oh, and they’ll hide under furniture and bat at your ankles!”
Coriolanus sometimes wondered if he had been scammed.
Either way, Petunia was here to stay. And after a bit of research, Coriolanus learned that if taken care of properly, cats can live into their twenties.
Had he known that a cat would’ve been such a long-term commitment, he would’ve bought Soarynn a goldfish.
“She’ll be fine,” he decides as the doorbell rings, announcing their first guest. Soarynn nods and gives him a small smile, “It’s only for a few hours,” she agrees.
꧁ ꧂
“You couldn’t pay me to care about the Districts,” Festus slurs. He’s had four too many drinks but he’s far too inebriated to stop now.
Coriolanus smiles and leans back in his chair, "Well it's a good thing you're not the one running for President." This draws laughs from all his friends who have gathered in his study. After a wonderful dinner, the men and women diverged. The women went to the living room and the men to his study where they could get into deeper conversations without offending or boring the opposite sex.
Festus seems quite comfortable in one of the plush armchairs and his drunken gaze settles on a framed photograph sitting on one of the bookshelves. It's of Soarynn who's dressed in a baby blue dress, holding Petunia to her chest while standing on the rooftop near the roses. Coriolanus remembers taking that photo, Soarynn had wanted Petunia to see the roses and the moment had been too precious to not photograph it.
Petunia looks so small in the photo, not as mean as she is now in his opinion.
"When're you going to ask her to marry you?" Festus asks and Coriolanus immediately glances at the doorway to ensure that none of the ladies heard Festus and his drunken question. All of Soarynn's friends are lovely, but, they have a habit of spreading rumors that half of the time aren't true. He doesn't need one of them to overhear this.
Coriolanus clears his throat and tugs at his shirt collar, "Once I become President." Felix smirks and glances around the study that is filled with expensive furniture, liquor, and lots of photographs of the woman Coriolanus loves so dearly. "I'd say they're practically married already," he teases.
Coriolanus rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his bourbon, he and Soarynn have been together for so long that it certainly does feel like they're already married sometimes. But marriage is an entirely different commitment. He needs to focus on becoming President first, then he can marry the girl of his dreams.
Before Festus can ask another drunk question, Coriolanus hears quite the commotion coming from outside, lots of gasping. He furrows his brows and begins to wonder if perhaps there's a bug or something. But if there was, Soarynn would've been running for the hills already.
He remembers the one time when she had gone to take a shower, only to come running into the living room covered in bubbles crying and screaming about a bug being in the shower with her. Coriolanus had teased her about it for weeks.
He exchanges a look with Felix before pushing himself up from his chair and venturing outside and down the hall to find out what's going on. He can hear all the ladies giggling and whispering and once he turns the corner he can see all of them looking down at something on the floor.
"Is everything alright?" He asks, some worry coloring his voice.
Soarynn can't even open her mouth to answer before he hears a meow.
Petunia.
Soarynn gives him a somewhat guilty-looking smile before she bends down and scoops up the cat who looks more than pleased with herself. That diva. Coriolanus presses his lips into a thin line, the cat was not supposed to be let out tonight.
But he can't even get a word in before Clemensia is scoffing at his expression, "Oh, please Coryo, we all love Petunia and wanted to see her. You're just upset because she steals Soarynn away from you."
Coriolanus lets out a small gasp at the accusation that is very true and shakes his head, "I simply think it's terribly rude to have an animal roaming around while we eat dinner and have company over," he explains although he only gets eye rolls in return.
Petunia who needs all attention on her at all times swipes her paw in Clemensia's direction and is immediately rewarded with kisses and scratches from all the women who fawn over her like she's a child.
Well, since there's no immediate threat Coriolanus sees no need to waste any more time on the cat. He shoots the feline one last look before turning on his heel and walking back to his study.
That cat, is going to be the death of him.
꧁ ꧂
Coriolanus blows all the air out of his lungs as he settles into the bathtub. There's nothing quite like a relaxing bath after a night with friends. He closes his eyes and rests his head back, tonight's events replaying in his mind. He doesn't get to think much because he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.
Coriolanus sits up in the tub and glances around the room, no one is in the bathroom with him.
He hears a meow.
He looks directly below him to find Petunia sitting next to the tub, her ears perked up and her tail swishing in the air. She's practically stalking him. "Go away," he tells her, pointing at the bathroom doors that are slightly ajar. She blinks and does nothing. "Out Petunia," he says again, this time with more authority in his voice.
Petunia rolls onto her back, asking for belly rubs.
Coriolanus groans and rubs a hand over his face, all he wants to do is relax and go to bed. Why must she torture him? He must've known Petunia in a past life and done something horrible to her because that is the only way he can make sense of their constant agitation towards each other.
"Soarynn!" He calls, keeping an eye on the cat who has all four paws in the air, still waiting to be pet. "Soarynn darling, I need help, I'm in terrible danger." Soarynn is pushing open the doors within seconds, her eyes wide as she searches for the danger. Once she sees Petunia all her worries melt away and she relaxes, "Oh, Petunia, you need to leave Coryo alone." Coriolanus nods, "For the rest of my life in fact," he adds on which earns him a glare from Soarynn who crouches down and opens up her arms, "Come here darling."
It's somewhat sweet how Petunia rolls to her feet and runs into Soarynn's arms, both of them absolutely infatuated with each other. "She's set on terrorizing me," he tells Soarynn who rolls her eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if she ate through another pair of my socks."
There was nothing quite like your big toe going right through your sock as you got ready for the day. Coriolanus immediately found the culprit who wore the most innocent look on her face. But like always, Soarynn came to her rescue.
"I think you're being a little bit dramatic," Soarynn says, "she just wants to be around you Coryo, that's all." He's not too convinced but he nods because it'll get Soarynn to leave and take the cat with her.
Once she does he relaxes, but not too much, Petunia might make a second attempt at ruining his bath.
꧁ ꧂
It's damn near ironic how Petunia looks so peaceful curled up at the foot of their bed.
Coriolanus watches her small body take little breaths in and out, today must have been exhausting for her, annoying him and inconveniencing him. She was on a roll today.
Soarynn slips into bed next to him and pulls him away from thinking about the cat. The second her soft hands cup his face he relaxes and feels as if nothing else in the world matters but her. "I do hope I didn't upset you tonight," she says softly and Coriolanus shakes his head, gently grabbing her wrists, "You couldn't. Couldn't upset me if you tried darling." Although Petunia certainly could.
Soarynn looks down at the small cat and smiles, "I know you two don't always see eye to eye, but she loves you Coryo, I've seen it before. She adores you and simply wants to spend more time with you." Coriolanus highly doubts that but he smiles and presses a kiss to Soarynn's cheek, "I believe you."
It doesn't take much longer for Soarynn to drift off in his arms, safe and sound. Coriolanus can feel himself finally giving into sleep as well and turns off the bedside lamp next to him before finally closing his eyes.
A moment later, he feels a small weight sink into his pillow above his head. Coriolanus opens his eyes and cranes his neck to see Petunia curled up above him, already asleep. He looks back down at Soarynn who is also curled up and he smiles, perhaps he ought to count himself lucky to have these two ladies in his life.
Even if one is an absolute diva.
| tumblr oneshot/drabble |
#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus fanfiction#wattpad#coriolanus smut#ao3 fanfic#slaymitchabernathy#hunger games#soarynn snow#coriolanus imagine#original character#coriolanus fic#coriolanus oneshot#oneshot#coriolanus x oc#oc#staywithmealways#soarynn nightingale#coriolanus x soarynn#stay with me always#ao3#drabble#coriolanus drabble
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what place should I wish for Neuvillette?
#4.0 genshin#4.0 update#fountaine#fountaine 4.1#Fountaine#4.1 genshin#Neuvillette#neuvillette Baby girl#Hutao#wishing genshin#Phase 1 genshin#Genshin banner#Genshin polls#polls#please come home I’m begging you to come home please#Hyped!!
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It is time for more DELULU HOURS!!
todays subject (haha): this isn’t Albedo
Exhibit a: his eyes!! Here we see our beautiful baby boys eyes on the left/top (idk how this’ll be formatted)
Beautiful eyes and NOW for the new official CN art:
He’s got these weird yellow iris’ which while pretty are definitely not his usually eyes(they remind me of an anemo slime), and I dont think it’s the fires reflection bc ambers eyes are normal:
Exhibit b: the star!!
Albedo usually has a star on his neck
Subject two doesn’t
And where’s the star?? GONE.
Could they have forgotten it?? Yes but you didn’t come here for reasonable hours you came here for delulu hours! In conclusion subject two/ nigredo I miss you very much please come home I promise I’ll love you just the way you are even with you’re weird anemo slime eyes
#genshin#genshin impact#hoyoverse#albedo#albedo genshin impact#subject two#nigredo#ruebedo#i am delulu#delulu#i miss him#please come home#i’m begging#the kids miss you#it’s me I’m kids
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☆ say cheese! ☆
#not ship art but… im not ur dad so idc what you tag it as <3#platonic elmike besties please come home in s5 I’m literally begging#elmike#el hopper#mike wheeler#stranger things#el hopper art#mike wheeler art#stranger things art#el hopper fanart#mike wheeler fanart#stranger things fanart#elijah art#the mage#the heart#byler#< target audience
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personal face design for bloodhound for funsies
#had this in my drafts so i touched it up b4 i went to work#I’m not beating the self insert allegations for this one#fat/double chin bloodhound please come home. to me#birdrick fans i beg you to look at fusehound /j#apex legends#bloodhound#bloodhound apex legends#apex legends art#my art#doodle
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Titania really got her ass kicked last book and went FUCK Y’ALL THIS IS MY FIX-IT FIC NOW.
#Titaniaworld is a TRIP#I’m crying she’s so petty#please maeve I’m begging you come home and punch her#October Daye#sleep no more#sleep no more spoilers
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