#Gabriel Saint (he/him) {right}

[ghostdandyandco]

Soft and Tender (December 2021)

[millerscoffee]

soft spot for trouble | hbf!javi

lit a cigarette and gave it a kiss.

6.3k | javier peña x f!reader

masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: dub-con: drunk sex, honey this is all S-M-U-T, husband's best friend, infidelity, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, squirting, piv (protected), brat tamer!javi, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, size kink, praise kink, this is just so horny, smoking (lots of it soz, and shotgunning cigarette smoke – OOPS). no use of y/n.

summary: javier peña is back from colombia and decides to spend some time with you and your husband, his best friend since college. after telling a story you know nothing about, an argument ensues between you and your husband, and you get drunk... both on whiskey, and on javi.

A/N: what can i say, i'm just the worst for narcos's very own javier peña and there's nothing you can do. enjoy!!!!! || [when you click keep reading you don't see the chalkboard i have stashed away stating "i will not make this a series" over and over 🤭]

"Bebita, I know your husband. He's not exactly notorious for making women cum. When was the last time he even went down on you?" Your cheeks absolutely flush at the tone of his voice, the truths he's spilling from his lips. Truths so intimate, you hadn't even told Gabbie about them. You swallow a knot in your throat. "Not saying it's me who should do that for you," finishing off his statements and drink Javi stands up, slipping on his leather jacket. "I'm saying I could." Stepping closer, he bends down to catch your ear. Goosebumps litter your skin as he whispers: "Could make you forget all about tonight." And you very much would like to forget all about tonight.

"Okay – okay! Would you have a threesome?" Your best friend is reading these conversation cards you got her some birthday ago, and you can hear her partner and your husband laugh amongst themselves.

A dinner party is going on at your house, and you and your husband have invited your best friend, Gabrielle, and her partner, Kris. Along with them there's your husband's best friend, Javier.

He was meant to bring a date, but for reasons that were more mumbled out of his mouth than spoken outright, they aren't here.

You're all sat around the dining room table with after dinner drinks and a game everyone agreed would be a fun way to end the night.

"Oh, gosh!" You laugh with Gabbie, both of you shaking your heads in anticipation of what would be said next.

"You gonna tell her or should I, pendejo?" Javi refers to your husband, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

The one you explicitly told him to smoke outside. You heard your husband, Julian, veto the request as you left, allowing the DEA to do what he wanted.

Julian undermining what you wanted... again.

"Tell me what?" You raise your brow, wafting smoke from your face dramatically as if to say, I told you not to do this. Javi doesn't seem to pay it much attention.

"Me and this guy...," in fact he points to your husband with the cigarette, flicking ash into the tray. You blink in annoyance.

"No! You didn't!" You gasp. Your mind races at the thought of them taking someone back to their dorm in college. You curb the ache that tempts your middle at thought of Javier and Julian sharing a woman between the two of them.

But that excitement is fleeting when a more sinister, grueling feeling creeps up your stomach.

"You're right. We didn't. Well, I didn't. I just played wingman. Julian here isn't as much of a saint as you thought." Javi says this to make you laugh, but it does the opposite.

Your eyes catch Julian's who now is looking at anywhere else but you. Knowing damn well before the two of you got married, this man prodded and practically bullied sexual information out of you.

Said it was only fair to know each other's pasts before making such a big commitment.

Within a sentence, a simple – stupid – game, the perception of your husband could shift before your very eyes. Your jaw ticks forward and you take a long, contemplative sip of wine.

"O-kay, let's just put these away," Kris muses, taking the cards in her hands.

"No, let's keep going," you antagonise. Your eyes become dull, tongue sharpening by the second. "I think Julian has a story to tell. It's good to know who you're married to."

You remember the way Julian said those very words to you while he was digging your own history of who you've slept with. Like a secret call directly to him... in front of everyone.

You can see Peña shifting in his seat out of your periphery.

"Well, it was in college," Julian speaks now after shooting the rest of his bourbon. His body language involving everyone in the story, but he finally has the courage to look at you. Somehow that hurts worse.

"There were these two girls at the bar we used to go to, and–"

That's when the tear spills over your cheek.

"Alright, I think she's heard enough." Javi's voice is low to Julian and your head snaps in the direction of him like a vulture who's making a meal of something dead.

"You don't get to decide that."

It's only when Gabbie whispers your name do you take heed. "I think we should leave you two to talk about this."

The guests in your home pack up their things until it's you and Julian. "I'm sorry, Jul–"

"Peña just go, man."

Javi nods sadly at your husband, his hand touching your shoulder as he slips out. He's the last one to go, and as the door closes it feels symbolic.

It's silent for a long time.

You go between wanting to cry, wanting to scream, wanting clarity.

Since your own husband didn't bother to give that to you.

"I never cared," you let out an uneven sigh, searching over your husband's features.

He looks defensive, annoyed and it's totally misplaced. You should be the annoyed one. You are the one who got betrayed.

"It never bothered me to tell you my partners. I agreed with you, even. That we should be open and honest to have a better relationship–"

"You really think you're in the position to be on a high horse when you fuck Javier with your eyes?"

It's deflective. A defense mechanism to take the heat off of himself, and unfortunately, it works. Your mouth is left agape.

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean," he begins, tilting his glass to where Javi sat, "whenever this guy is over, I don't exist."

"This guy, is your best friend. Someone you've known way longer than you've known me. Excuse me for being hospitable."

"There's hospitality, then there's throwing yourself at the first man who walks through the door. It's embarrassing."

His words make you feel small for the first time in your relationship.

It causes a crack, irreparable in nature, and you feel a shift.

Because you don't cry, it makes you angry. Puts you back on track as to why you were having this conversation in the first place.

"Embarrassing?" You stand, wine glass in hand, "Embarrassing?! You just confessed something you knew would make me irate in front of our very best friends. Something personal that I should have known in private. You lied to me and you admitted it in front of people we care about. Made me look like a goddamn fool! Don't tell me about being embarrassed, you don't know the first fucking thing. Fuck you, Julian!"

You could throw the wine glass, but you decide to slam it down instead. Grabbing your purse, keys, and jacket to escape without letting him finish his thought. Door slammed. You've heard enough.

Mature. But you were pissed off, and you knew staying in a house that you made a home together wouldn't solve anything.

Maybe getting some fresh air would help.

Maybe walking to the bar in town would be even more helpful.

Your thoughts were swirling, clouding your judgement on the walk in, sneakers on. Your pleated white skirt brushes above your knees that paired with the black top that made your breasts look concealed more than shown off.

As if the forest green bomber jacket didn't help in making you look modest.

What the fuck did Julian know?! You weren't throwing yourself at anybody.

Because you were not thinking about Javi with his shirt off moments before the truth was told, and he did not infiltrate your dreams occasionally with sexual undertones.

It couldn't happen, and it was not happening.

You had been to this bar a few times before. It's dimly lit, a variety of music pumps through the speakers. There's plumes of smoke, and there's something about it that feels safer than when you experienced it in your home. Like a part of you enjoyed it.

Studying the room, you discover Javier Peña on a barstool, staring into his glass of whiskey. You knew Peña to play dirty, but there's something about the way he's contemplating – or at least looks like he's contemplating – that gives off remorse.

"Didn't know you could do that," you kid, taking a seat beside him. Your eyes scan over his jeans, the buttons undone from his red shirt. The way his chest and neck and NO – no!

"Oh, hey," and his dreamy crooked smile, puppy eyes. Jesus Christ, you needed a drink and fast. "Didn't know I could do what?"

"Think." You try to cheer him up, but it doesn't seem to work. You both keep doing that to each other tonight.

Instead, Javi huffs out a fake laugh through his nose and downs the rest of the amber liquid. His eyebrows flash quickly, showing hints of regret, "You're tellin' me."

"Hey," your say lowly, eyes softening at the signs of his guilt. It feels different from your husband's accusatory behaviour.

It makes you feel like Javi actually cared that he hurt you, or at least hurt his friend. You can see him run his tongue atop of his teeth through his lips when he looks at you. It makes his jaw jut out, strong and chiseled, and you fail at averting your gaze.

"You didn't know that I didn't know. It's not your fault. For either party." You reach out to touch the top of Javi's hand in a friendly manner, and you catch a glimpse of your wedding ring.

A twinge of guilt hits your gut, and you pull away from the warmth as soon as you land.

"You really didn't know?" Javi peers over to you before finding eyes of the bartender, holding up the number 'two' with his fingers.

"Not only did I not know, he insisted on knowing every person that I've ever slept with, where they live, and how many times. Yes you heard that correctly," you nod a thank you to both the bartender and Javi before taking your drink.

Whiskey's not typically your first choice, but it's like he knew you needed something stronger. It's not a typical night.

The alcohol feels good on your tongue, as if it washed away what you just said.

You conveniently leave out what your husband threw at you about Peña before you left. Tonight was awkward enough already.

"Mierda, what a fucking idiot." Javi snickers in disbelief, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I think you taught him some interrogation skills you didn't warn me about." You don't mean for that to come off so flirty, but you see Javier's face change minisculely and it makes your thighs to squeeze together.

"Didn't know I had to look out for you, cariño," he says, charm dripping from every syllable. He offers you a cigarette and it's hilarious, really – him handing this to you after telling him time and time again not to do it in your house.

Even more hilarious that you take it from him. He seems a little surprised by that.

You press the stick between your teeth when Javi has his lighter ready. Pour your stare into his as he starts your cigarette. Allow the inhale to sting your lungs.

You're very composed about it all, really. Really.

Exhaling the air from the side of your mouth, away from his face, you shrug slightly. "I guess you know now." Your words not making complete sense as you dizzy from nicotine, alcohol, and deception.

"Two women...," you trail off, focusing on the neon lights of the bar that create reflections on the shiny, hardwood floor. "Can barely satisfy one." You weren't saying it to chide Julian, you mostly said to to yourself, but of course nothing goes unnoticed with Peña, and he chokes a laugh.

It feels nice to hear a light sound in the midst of something so heavy that you can't help but partake in it, too. The two of you chuckling and you shake your head, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Well, here's to the ones who can," Javi lifts his glass, and you do the same, just barely picking up what he's hinting while you down the rest of drink. Head swimming now.

The two of you sit in conversation as the piles of people in your town fill seats for a good ten minutes. Most of them know the both of you, and that keeps you on track. You abandon the butt of your cigarette in an ashtray that has at least three of Javi's since he arrived.

Kept on track because the more you drink, the more you realise you want to act on your impulses. Want to go against the things you were keeping yourself from thinking. To make some of those dreams come true.

"You know what your fuckin' problem is?" Javi starts, and it makes your blood boil. Breaks you out of your reverie.

"Maybe start that sentence off differently."

"No," he's quick to reply. So quick you don't notice you fold your own argument. "You're too uptight, that's your problem." he shrugs casually and you shove his shoulder lightly.

"Making it worse, Peña."

Javi brings his hand up to tap his index and middle finger at to the side of your head lightly.

"You're operating too much from here," his arm sweeps down, those two same fingers brushing against your panties from underneath your skirt. You jump back in your seat, gasping in response.

"Need to operate from here."

And there it is. It would seem out of place if it were anyone else but Javier Fucking Peña. Known for debaucherous ways. Known for his vices.

"W-what... what are you doing?" You stare wide, not quite sure you even felt what you did. It happened so fast that when you look around, no one saw a thing.

It wasn't as much of a record-scratch stop to them as it was to you.

You notice that you don't tell him to stop. And so does he.

"Bebita, I know your husband. He's not exactly notorious for making women cum. When was the last time he even went down on you?" Your cheeks absolutely flush at the tone of his voice, the truths he's spilling from his lips. Truths so intimate, you hadn't even told Gabbie about them. You swallow a knot in your throat.

"Not saying it's me who should do that for you," finishing off his statements and drink Javi stands up, slipping on his leather jacket. "I'm saying I could." Stepping closer, he bends down to catch your ear. Goosebumps litter your skin as he whispers: "Could make you forget all about tonight."

And you very much would like to forget all about tonight.

It's only when you stand do you notice how drunk you are. Not completely wasted, but not sober enough to make decisions with your brain. Exactly how Javi wants you. The walk to Javi's apartment is remembered in jolly splices.

---

Your mouth greets the shoulder of Javi's jacket playfully while he unlocks his door. You detect his aftershave in mix with the cigarettes, alcohol, and leather.

A whine escapes you and slick gathers in your panties, even more from the bar if that were possible. Especially when your noises and eagerness pull a baritone laugh from him, "Tranquilo, tigre."

He says that, but as soon as you've crossed the threshold of his door he has you against the other side of it. Fingers playing in your hair. Ever the gentleman, sliding off your jacket to put it... on the ground. Great. You like that jacket!

But you're just as careful and kind to his things as you tug on his belt. Your fingers playing with the brown leather and metal and finally, finally your mouths touch.

A sweet moan, high in octave and breathy, eases out of your throat and it's met with the gravel of his groan in the pit of his own. He feels and tastes nothing like your husband which makes it much easier to forget him.

Truthfully, he hadn't been in your mind since fresh air hit your face on the walk to Javi's.

Smoke, alcohol, and the faint likeness of gum moves over your tongue while your hands multitask in untucking his shirt from his jeans.

"That fuckin' easy?" He quips, but his breath as shaky as yours. Large hands palming the smushed shape of your breasts from the modest top, and it produces a whimper in the middle of your panting.

"It's that fucking easy, Peña. Could've been doing this a long fuckin' time, now." Your hands eclipse his, pushing them further into your tits in effort to obscenely massage them.

This stirs a groan from his lips. In awe of how in control you are like this. How it's different from the woman allowing her requests to be denied in her own home.

Javi disobeyed you on purpose at your house earlier, so maybe you could get it through your thick fucking skull that this is what you really needed.

To watch your desires bubble to the surface, and moreover to let them have space here. He wants you to act on them.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he rolls over the bone. Moustache twitching in a smirk, "Javi, baby."

To say you're wet now is an understatement. Your clit tingles with anticipation, thighs shaking without even being touched.

"Javi," you say it back to him, but it comes out more like a moan. A catalyst for a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and brushing of his facial hair against the top of your lips while he towers above you. Palm flat against the door above your head.

Somewhere between that and undoing each button on his shirt, you end up in the kitchen – bent over the island. Pouting at not getting the chance to see him shirtless fully.

You shiver against the granite, claw at the edges of furniture for something to land on. To find purchase. A cheek is pinned against the cool texture and you choke a breath the second you feel air flow against your ass. Your skirt riding up just for Javi to view.

"Motherfucker," you hear Javi behind you. The tone amused, saturated in desire. That's when you get your first taste of relief.

The edge of his index finger runs between your legs, rubbing the obvious wet spot of your panties. Your folds, even through the fabric, wrap around the length of his finger from how deeply he's pressing against you.

It flicks a flame in the pit of your stomach and causes more hunger than relief. Your pores open from how hot it's making you.

"You get this wet for him?" Javi's simple question evokes a mewl you've never heard come from yourself. Your hips lift back and roll in need.

"No... no. J-just you, Javi. Just you."

"Just me," he repeats, head tipping to the side as he examines you.

How easy it is for you to handover claim of your cunt. It's instantaneous, him pulling your undies down. Wasting no more time in what the two of you came here to do.

The pad of his thumb collects your slick between your folds. From the top of your hole all the way to your clit at the bottom from how you're positioned, and you bite your lip hard. Cheeks flushed while your ass peeks out from your skirt.

"Is that because this is mine?"

You confidently say Julian has never talked to you like this. You don't think you've ever been addressed like this in your life.

Never been made to feel special in this way, or that your body was someone's because they wanted you. Not because they wanted to have some icky claim of you.

Even more, you don't feel guilty. Not yet, anyway. There's no time for it. No time to pretend from what you've wanted from the very moment this man, whose warmth now radiates behind you, entered the picture.

"It's yours," you say in a rush as your torso drapes and digs into the side Javi's kitchen island. Makes you think you'd say this even in a sober state. "It's all yours, Javi!"

"What's mine?" He's deliberate and torturous, and his voice alone could make you cum. Your ass pushes back languidly, giving him a good view to curse at under his breath, of your cunt and the velvet of your asshole.

"Me, Javi. I'm yours. Everything." Hot tears swell over your cheeks from how horny and desperate you feel. Like if you don't get him now, you could combust.

"Javi!" you gasp, rutting against the outline of his hard cock in his jeans when he grinds against you without warning.

"Get used to fuckin' saying that," he cautions, and it's cocky, but unlike all the other broken promises you've been given, he's true to his word.

Because he pulls away from you, and you're now his ragdoll – putting you wherever he wants. Hoisting you up on the kitchen island, and it feels cold against the heat pooling at your core.

Javi watches as you bring your bare feet onto the counter, leaning back on your hands, and spread your legs apart like he's being called for dinner. And, fuck, that's exactly what he wants.

Because as soon as you do that, as soon as he sees just how wet and pink you are at the core for him, he can't say no to you.

Not that he was ever planning on it.

"That's it, that's fucking it. Jesus fucking Christ."

You get a good view of Javi's chest all the way down to his stomach and jeans in their disheveled state from this point of view. The bulge of his cock difficult to hide in pants that tight, and you are grateful for it.

You shiver at a mixture of the view of him and the air against your soaked skin.

Your cheeks and lips are painted crimson when he pulls up a seat. He wasn't kidding. He was planning on eating you out, going down on you like you were his own personal meal – as if his eyes devouring you weren't enough.

Your manicured nailed comb his hair back once you get the chance to reach him. Feeling exposed, throbbing by the time you feel the smooth skin of his cheek proceed the inside of your thigh. He takes you in, marveling at the way your cunt pulses and clenches over nothing. Fluid floods right from the source. The way your clit peeks out from its hood, just enough that his teeth could brush against it.

It makes his mouth water, and yours too now that you think about it. Pressing slow, teasing kisses on your thighs you sigh in frustration and alleviation. You can't help but wriggle your hips up towards him. "Please," you whimper, and that makes Javi's eyes grow even darker if you could believe it.

"Please what?"

"Javi, please eat me out!"

He doesn't miss a beat. Using his nose and face to breach your folds apart, to take a mess even further, Javi digs in. His tongue flattens against your slick and your sounds are immediate. It's all too sensitive, too unfamiliar for you to fully register how to feel.

He was right when he called your husband out at the bar. Julian made sure you came, but it was rarely with his mouth. Most of the time you were left rubbing yourself off during sex.

So to have someone, to have Javi – your husband's best fucking friend, between your legs. Servicing you with the sluttiest smile on his face, you can't help but slump back on the counter.

To be under his stare is almost too much. Perfect and needy for you. You slip your eyes shut from the intensity.

"Eyes on me, princesa," Javi rolls off his tongue easily, the tip of it digging right underneath the hood of your clit. Making you gasp, eyes wide, popping back open to meet his gorgeous features.

"Did my pussy like that?" He hums in satisfaction, wrapping his mouth around the all-too sensitized nub before mercilessly sucking it.

This leaves you with your mouth hanging open, your eyes crossing as they roll into the back of your head. The same head that's now reclining in sheer ecstasy.

But Javi's quick to make his point as he goes off of you and replaces his sucking with a harsh slap to your cunt. It makes you spring up, makes you pay attention. You pout and writhe at his power over you.

"I said fucking eyes on me. Don't you dare think about anyone else."

"I-I," you try, you really try to say something, but you can't. It feels too good, and you're too drunk to understand you can't use your words right now.

So you comply, watch him as best as you can. Your mouth split open, eyebrows knit together. And he's kind in the way he goes right back – sucking on your clit like it's his fucking job.

Like he hasn't eaten in weeks, and you're sitting at his kitchen counter, on display.

Not using your brain to think, but using your pussy.

"JustyouJavi," you manage. It's slurred, but you manage it because while he's sucking on your nerves, he's rolling the edge of his tongue against it too. Methodical circles, a tempo to die for. Doesn't switch it up, or make awkward transitions. It's just right.

It's inevitable, screaming his name. Feeling your toes curl, the heels of your feet grind into Javi's shoulders. Damn near pornographic in the way you keen your mantra of: yeah, yeah, yeah. The ache explodes into an uncontrollable fit of passion as you gush all over Javi's mouth.

But as he pulls back, you see that it's not just his mouth that's coated. His cheeks, chin, nose. You're spilling down his neck. And he smiles at you like a blood-soaked lion polishing off its prey.

"I know what you can do, princesa," the sentence has far too many words for you to understand what's happening during your comedown, so that's why it happens as a surprise when you feel Javi's two fingers prod against your cunt.

Standing from his chair now, he pushes it back with his heel. Hand in a loose fist around your neck as he makes you watch what he's doing to you. "Don't fucking blink," he grits, and it makes you want him to tighten his grip. To be possessive while he fucks you.

Your head is slightly angled down while he starts. Eyes looking up, mouth wet but not as wet as Javi's and it makes you come apart to watch his skin glisten still from you. Index and middle fingers press inside your wet hole. His wet hole.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, slipping your top lip above the bottom, you open easily for him to plunge deeper, his fingers curling up with no trouble at all in finding that spongy spot of pleasure right at the tips of them. Your eyes gloss from how overwhelming it feels, the repetitions.

"You can squirt for me, baby." His echoes have you in a trance, but that request makes you nervous. "I've... I don't know how...," you manage the words and he massages your insides in a way that makes you discern you're being primed for something.

"You can do it," Javi leans down, and the encouragement makes your mind reel at how simple words can create such an affect on you.

"Pull my cock out and slip those pretty lips around it, hermosa. You'll forget about anything else."

A part of you isn't ready. To see his cock would mean that things were progressing, and if they were in a standstill you could soak up this moment for longer. But the way you can hear your cunt slosh in between thrusts has you curious if he actually could make you do this.

You look down first. See the bulge more prominent and close in his boxers from his unbuttoned jeans. Eager to break out, you pull the fabric down enough to send the leaking head of his cock to slap against his abdomen before it springs out in front of you to tease.

"Holy fuck," the moment before the freefall, your body becomes alert of the sheer size of him. It was even better than the dreams of you getting railed by him from behind.

You can't help but take a moment to appreciate this. To brush your face sluttily against the warmth of his cock. Your lips teasing him until the precum lands on your tongue and your jaw instantly burns from how sore it is to be open like that.

Saliva falls on your shirt, not yet found the time to take it off.

He tasted heavenly, your hand cups his balls while his moves from your throat to the back of your head.

And it's delicious to watch his face. The way his jaw relaxed open before grinding it back shut, exhaling sharply through his nose. Javi tests your gag reflexes then, gripping the back of your head and sending the shaft of his cock down your throat.

"Mierda," he falters in keeping both rhythms from how hot your wet mouth is. "Knew you could handle my cock, baby, but fuck."

Between the sounds of you gargling him and the squelching of your pussy he is relentless in using, your body is distracted and slack enough for him to pull out of you.

"Ay dios mio, bebita. That's fucking it, there you go." The way he's nodding, proud and spasming in your mouth has you cumming again. This this time clear liquid sprays from you when he tugs his skilled fingers from you and you vibrate such moans from Javi's cock he has to pull out to stop himself from cumming, too.

A wail replaces your moans as the sound of your voice is more prominent in the space. "Javi!" You can't help that you're crying obscenely now, tears flowing from the intensity and the treatment he'd been giving your throat. Mascara running down your cheeks.

---

"Good fucking girl, bonita." You don't realise it straight away from you cum-drunken stooper, but he's picked you up now. Showing you how strong his lean frame is by carrying you to his bed. Tossing you onto the mattress like it's nothing.

"All of this off. Now." Yes, sir. You bob your head yes frantically, knowing how fucked you must look. Mascara running, your panties... somewhere. Your skirt soaked from a new trick Javi just taught you.

You catch a glimpse of the man who did this to you, equally a mess. His hair in all directions, neck red as beads of sweat tempt his broad shoulders, and fuck, he was naked now. You don't mean to, but you drool – this time without a cock in your mouth – too fucked to notice, or care.

"Take a fuckin' picture, baby." Javi softens his knees to curve down at your ear, "Off. Last warning."

You begin to wonder what he would do if you didn't do as he said.

"And if I don't?" You challenge, a lascivious grin crosses your face and you raise a brow.

Mistake. Big mistake.

Because that makes Javi's grin fade. Ripples a new sense of foreboding into the air when he takes your skirt off just as easily and swiftly as he did your undies, but the skirt isn't unzipped so it bursts from the force and you yelp at the sensation.

"Javi, you broke my skirt!" You whine. Naked from the waist down he ogles you before tutting his teeth sarcastically.

"It really bothers me, hermosa," Your shirt is slung overhead and abandoned somewhere on the floor.

"Good girls don't talk back."

You can tell he's drinking you in from the moment he stands back, but he's pulling away more and more until you don't feel his warmth anymore and you realise the error you've made.

"W-wait... come-come back!" Your words dejected, giving him doe eyes as he mimics them way better than you could.

"Bad girls get punished. Rub your clit, get yourself off." It drives a pathetic sound from your mouth before you plead to him.

"Please, no. Please – Javi, Javi please. I'll be good. Please, Javi!" Sitting up, you beg him, undo the sheer bra so your tits pop out from it. Both of you bare in his bedroom.

You can see that makes his cock undoubtedly ache.

"Oh, querida. You're gonna have to do better than that." Arms crossed, he watches as you part your sticky legs, exposing your folds to him again and he hums in approval.

"Let me see how you do it."

You're so deep in it with him, it feels like you've been doing this regularly. How he knows your body, helps you discover little things you didn't even know you were into.

It relieves you to let out wanton moans, your fingers spanning your slick, opening yourself up on cue. Fingers roll, pinch, glide your clit in a hypnotic motion.

It sends you close to the edge, but you can't quite find it with the prospect of Javi inside you.

You keep staring at his cock.

The way precum collects at the head, the girth of him. You could only imagine how deep he would be. Unsure if you could take him all.

"I need you, Javi. Javi, please. Please give me your cock. I'm sorry, I wanna be your good girl!" Torture rocks your throat, and right before you force a dull orgasm from yourself Javi takes your wrist, pushing it away from your core.

"We have to use a condom, baby." It's his way of telling you yes, and you sit up zealously, understanding and willing to do whatever it takes.

Because in reality, he's right, and that almost causes you to stop. Like those dreams you have where you wake up and instantly flock to your husband. Overcompensating.

But this wasn't one of those dreams, and you wanted this so badly it stung.

Javi goes to his nightstand, slicking lube on his cock before sheathing it in the rubber protectant. You certainly don't feel upset that you have to use it, but it leaves you curious what his skin feels like slipped inside of you.

Already coveting his presence before it even began.

But that's the thing, there's no slipping here. When he comes around to make sure you're both lubricated enough for the barrier, you see just how fat his cock is as it bulges from the condom.

Your legs unfurl, chin lining forward as you watch him. Javi keeps you on your back for now, draping your legs over his shoulders. No, he doesn't slide inside of you, he stretches you to such completion your body pulses repeatedly, coming completely undone.

It almost feels too much at first, this position – as deep as it was, but the way you're groaning has you both believing you can take it. Just in time for your sex to push him out of you.

Your muscles all too tight, beginning to worry he's too big.

But that doesn't stop you.

"Mierda, you need it that fucking bad, bebita?" His words make you weak. Because immediately you go between your legs, inviting him back into the innermost part of you without him needing to do it himself.

Javi's lips crash against yours, taking time in burying himself all the way to the hilt. But he doesn't move a muscle.

He stays there, admiring above you. The way your mouth parts, nipples becoming alive at the sensation. "Eres hermosa," more of a mumble, his lips brush and decorate the inside of your calves. The tip of his nose slightly bending against the skin.

It starts to become unbearable, your hips shifting up, but you find it is working. That your muscles relax and are able to take. "I can take it," you incline, not noticing you're heaving shallow breaths until the words leave you in pieces.

"Can you?" Javi asks condescending, thumbprint teasing the split of your clit, rasping at the way you convulse your whole body from contact.

He can't take it anymore, your hold is too strong over him. Javi, compelled to fuck you, drives his cock in, proprietorial in its approach.

You're almost oversensitive, unsure of the statement you just announced because you find yourself swallowing hard, your throat dry. Fingernails claw at his forearms as his large paws grip your waist for leverage. Your pelvis bucking up because like his fingers before, his length is hitting your g-spot and it's too much – you have to screw your eyes.

But Javi doesn't reprimand you for it this time. Instead he hovers over you, sending your ass off of the bed and him deeper than ever before. Right against your cervix now. Causing your mandible to unhinge, pitiful sounds expel your lungs. It's just too good.

"You can take it, baby," Lustful words right there at your ear, you beg in way that makes you want more.

You stroke his hair, tugging the strands – scratching his scalp. His body mercilessly colliding with yours. All sweat and skin, balls eager to tap against the curve of your ass, and all of those sounds fill the room. The sounds of your sex.

"Javi, please. Tell me." It's magic, he doesn't hold it against you that you're not being completely direct. He's understanding, and wants this for you again. The gears connecting that you need to be talked and fucked through it.

"Tell you what, cariño? How I want you to cum for me?" His glistening covered brow presses against yours, hairs stick to both of your foreheads. "How I make this pussy feel so perfect you have to explain why you're limping tomorrow?"

Fuck, you're a mewling, writhing mess.

"Let go for me, ángel," his dark, pleading eyes invite you to jump over the edge, "That's it. That's fucking it, baby. Cum for me."

Your skin trembles like a live wire. He's pulling another orgasm out of you and you don't even know where it's coming from or how he could get you to do it again. But you are. It shows up in your fingers curling, your thighs fluttering until streams of your sex leak from around his cock in your climax.

You're speechless. Moans come from you, yes, but you're so fucked out there's no words that could be put together to describe how fucked you really are.

Your legs fall on either side of Javi's waist, and there's a moment of cognition as your hand reaches to touch Javi's face. "You are so handsome," it slips out before you can stop it, but you don't want it to. Your thumb finds the divot at his bottom lip. Recall the way he tastes of you now. The tops of your fingers stroke his clean shaven cheek.

A face so hauntingly beautiful for a human up to no good. You knew snippets of his past, but his pout nudging against your palm tells you more than any story. Lets you know exactly who he is. You knew the truth.

"Get on your back, honey." You encourage, coaxing his cock out of you – still hard and dying for release.

Surprisingly, he does what he's told, unable to stop himself from kissing your cheek and you swallow down words.

No need to complicate things further.

So you climb on top of him instead. "Shit, cariño. Look at you." That makes you blush, his warm and strong palm splays on top of your breast to brush a digit over your nipple and you shiver. Tentatively, you take him back in and make an oomph sound. He somehow feels deeper like this.

You're intentional in the roll of your hips, but the pace is far too slow for Javi. He needs you, needs the chase of something. "Let me," he grits, pulling your chest onto his and pins your arms behind you in his own bear hug.

The way he digs his heels into the mattress to fuck you, to use you to get himself off is borderline degrading but his quiet praises against your skin has you lit up again in ways you don't anticipate. He slaps your ass hard enough to leave a mark before petting where you connect. This leaves your sticky sweetness to cover his lap in no time.

"Hermosa, h-hermosa," his voice staggers at the shell of your ear, hips erratic while it feels like he's fucking you into oblivion. "So fucking good for my cock, pretty girl."

You have orgasmed so many times now it feels automatic when it happens again, but this time you take note of his arms tightening around you. A hand in your hair. "Just like that, just– fuck. Take it." It almost sounds like a resignation, but his waist pounds you both into another wave of pleasure until he emptied inside of you, filling the condom.

You both stay still. Spent. Relaxed. Eyes bleary, the two of you collapse into assuage.

A pile of shuddering, panting limbs tangle together in the wake of something devious and beautiful.

"Pretty, pretty girl." You hear him say into the top of your head. The hint of affection aches at your heart.

It's then you become acutely aware of how tight your wedding band feels around your ring finger.

---

Javi lights a cigarette in the middle of your afterglow, and it's intimate, him sharing it with you. You hold it, sobriety taking your head, and it frightens you when you don't pull away from him as you begin to think more clearly.

In fact, you roll onto your stomach. Body half-slung onto his, your tits pushed together perfectly as you sit up your elbows.

Taking the cigarette between your lips, you inhale, leaning to him as you push the smoke to billow into his mouth. He exhales the rest through his nose and your tongue tastes the plush lips in front of you because, fuck, it might be the last time you can.

"What do we do?" You ask after a while. It's quiet, and you give the stick back to him by dangling it between his lips.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing." His words muffled by it, he takes a drag before leaving it to burn between his fingers. He puffs the smoke away from you. "You stay with him, bebita. You work it out. And when you need to be fucked, you call me. When he's being a cabrón, you call me. I'll make you forget about him."

Your survey the curtains in his room, the blue glow of dawn tempting to bring another day forward. You don't like his idea, but that doesn't make it wrong.

"You mean you don't want to run away together?" You joke, your eyes conveying, no really it's a joke. I swear. And he runs his fingers across your cheek to pinch it lightly, lips pressing together when he shakes his head 'no'.

"You know we can't do that."

The words bring Julian back to life. Shows his existence in a way that doesn't make you want to push him away. Through the love Javi has for him.

Despite it all, love. A common goal the two of you have for the man who is probably worried sick over you.

Just before guilt tempts to wrap its vengeful claws around your throat, Javi stops it in its tracks.

"You took what you wanted. That's all."

You nod compliantly, not willing to argue in order to savour the moment. Your head brushes against his chest and you close your eyes. If only to capture this feeling a little while longer.

You allow his words to integrate, and swallow down the antagonist of his statement: that there was more you wanted. You were certain the chase of this, the irrevocable quench from throes you shared with Javier, would not just die down.

Terrible that you didn't want it to. You would take what you wanted.

[missmarveledsblog]

A KIND OF SEX EDUCATION ( PART THREE) ( PLATONIC Cas , winchesters x reader)

SUMMARY : Cas finds onlyfans , all it not what it seems though

warning : its just pure crack and fun

Turns out even as traumatising as the last time of cas curiosities didn’t actually have too bad of out come and as much as she had hated to admit dean was right about them dating . although never in the bunker was it peaceful for too long . turns out bobby was her dad and she learned new thing about her parents no child should ever learn …ever. 

Something else was different too every night at 8 pm cas would disappear off into his room even when on hunt he would head off some where always at 8pm , of course they were curious  but after last few ordeal with the angel well the curiosity was just not enough to investigate . well until ..

“ i am in love and i think it time i brought her here” he said  completely out of the blue . 

“ you have a girlfriend good job buddy … don’t show her your internet history though” dean snorted only for y/n to slap him in back of the head. 

“ she’s real right?” sam asked needing clarifications after poor guy fell for an A.i bot . 

“ she’s very real we talk every night at 8pm . 

“ that’s great cas maybe we can go for a double date sometime “ y/n beamed more for the fact it probably the most normal interaction she had with the angel in what felt forever . 

“ i shall ask her although she said friends cost extra” he said heading off to his room as they all shared a look. 

“ who the hell is spending 500 dollars a night on …” bobby called. 

“ you go in i’m not going in , i’m always the one here for this shit” she argued as three stood out his door. 

“ oh for fuck sake  i’m moving out” she whined. 

......

“ you’re nicer though he listens to you and better than him he’ll break his heart” sam reasoned . 

“ why aren’t you in the equations” she scoffed. 

“ i don’t want to deal with it to be honest” sam huffed. 

“ how about we all go talk to him i mean plus lets see what she like she could be nice gal for all we know” dean grinned. 

“ do you like having a girlfriend” she glared . 

“ point taken you should take this one” he smiled pushing her into the room. 

“ another tip from my angel any requests” the voice called as y/n was ready to burst into tears thinking maybe wifi in the bunker was over rated.

“ hey cas i need to erm talk to you it’s urgent” . 

“ why are you're eyes covered if its urgent” she could already picture his tilted head and confused face but she was afraid just incase his little saint was out awaiting . “ i got to go my love i will come back tomorrow” he called as silence filled the room god this was going to like shooting bambi’s mother. 

“ he’s dressed sweetheart” was all dean voice said echoing down the  hall. 

“ oh thank fuck , hey buddy can we talk” she asked softly and wishing she was well anywhere else. 

“ of course it is urgent” he nodded. 

“ jesus how do i go about this?” she sighed rubbing her temples. 

“ are you pregnant? I noticed the little weight but i didn’t want to mention it” he looked down at her stomach. 

“ getting less hard , no i’m not pregnant may need to go on a diet though… nevermind cas whats your loves name?” she shook her head staying on point albeit less confident then before .

“Angel lady six nine” he beamed proudly . 

“ oh you poor sap it’s sixty nine  not the the point cas have you talk with her like in person or …” . 

“ on only fans gabriel sent me the link said it was a website for meeting exciting women and now i met my love and she makes me so happy … and it make my hands want to do the thing i see ” he smiled . 

“ well i’m glad, good chatting buddy” she backed out the room definitely not the one to be dealing with this . 

So now here sam was while dean was telling y/n she wasn’t fat.  He could do it rip the bandaid off but provide some sort of comfort maybe bring him somewhere to meet real woman that wouldn’t send them to the poor house. 

“ hey cas can we talk” he smiled awkwardly seeing the angel eyes locked on screen .

“ of course it seems as everyone wants to do that tonight” he place it down as sam caught a glimpse of the page he was on . 

“ your love isn’t well actually love” he cut to the point . 

“ why not she tells me all the time” his head tilted like a confused puppy. 

“ that’s cause you give her five hundred dollars a night i mean she call you king of the world for that sort of money” . 

“ she shows me her things like…” he began to explain. 

“ i don’t need to know that .. but she not really in love with you buddy just the money you give her?” sam asked watching his reaction seeing the cogs turn in the mans head. 

“  i don’t get it” he finally said. 

“ ok… goodnight” sam huffed walking out as dean stormed  . 

“ hello dean” cas smiled. 

“ ok buddy you're dating a prostitute electronically needs to stop or we can’t buy pie so stop wasting the money online great talk buddy” he shut the door as the other two watched him walk off in victory . 

“ nothing wrong with earning money like that woman power ,  just not ours cas” y/n winced at her boyfriends way with words following after. 

They sat worried as cas never showed up for breakfast  , y/n even checked to see his room empty to which sam said to give him space. 

“ jesus your right that was like shooting bambi” sam called heading in the same direction. 

......

“ but what if we made him run away” she pouted. 

“ he’s literally older than all of us and an angel” dean shrugged. 

“ but he’s a baby in a trench coat you say it all time” she pointed out . 

“ the kitchen is through here , would you like a drink” the voice called out. 

“ oh water is fine” a female voice replied as the two appeared making them not only drop their jaws but whatever was in their face as the woman followed behind. 

“ is that…” she whispered. 

“ the hook..OWW” Dean yelled as y/n kicked him . 

“This my love  angel , angel these are my friends who think your a hooker”  cas said as sam choked on his drink.

“We don’t think your a hooker” y/n smiled weakly . 

“ actually we do  onlyfans means one thing … not that i would know i’ve never seen it before” dean corrected himself as his girlfriend glared. 

“ you know people do other things on onlyfans not only sexwork right “ angel crossed her arms. 

“ come on angel sixty nine” dean scoffed. 

“ six point nine my birthday is the 9th of june” she answered.

“ look we don’t slut shame but you make his hands wanna move” sam pointed out . 

“ to teach him to draw” she gasped .

 “ five hundred dollars to paint really cas” bobby walked in. 

“ he doesn’t pay me a dollar” angel pointed out . 

“ where our money going then” y/n brow furrow. 

“ wait that’s real money i though it was pretend money” jack walked in with his tablet showing them the gambling site he was on . 

“Wait so she's not a hooker” dean asked confused. . 

“ sorry angel” the called in unison .

" we're getting rid of the wifi i can't be dealing with this shit" y/n called heading out the room .

@pizzagirlxnsfwx hope you enjoy part three :)

[miraculan-draws]

being most of the way through The Vampire Lestat, the thing I'm most excited about in S3 is seeing that like. Lestat is so GOOD. like Good-Aligned. So much of the book is him philosophizing—Anne really takes advantage of the setting in the Age of Enlightenment.

Lestat is a newly realized atheist, and working out what it means to be Good or Bad without God as a guiding measurement. To be Good, in his mind, you are good AT things—a good hunter, a good marksman, a good actor and a good vampire why not? But to DO GOOD is to inspire emotion, to move people, because badness is the Nothing. To give people a reprieve from the Nothing is to be a Saint. Musicians, actors, poets, storytellers, comedians, those are Saints to him.

And the concept of Evil can still be saintly, because it is not the Nothing. Evil can be an art. Evil can be riveting and sensual and moving, and therefore can be something one strives to be Good At. He is Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles.

He's emotional and silly and RADIANT, like he is so full of light. When Rolin Jones said that between the first and second books it seems like Anne Rice really fell in love with Lestat, he was right. And given how MAGNIFICENT the first two seasons of this show were, and how intimately I believe Sam Reid to know this character, I am beyond excited to see how they play it—especially with our framing device being this manic and unstable and CAMPY modern Lestat.

Cutting from stage to stage? From VL to Lelio? From witty Daniel to the horror of Magnus? (Maybe from supportive and friendly Louis, to bitter and spiteful Nicki?) THE HUNT FOR ARMAND VS ARMAND HUNTING LESTAT AND GABRIELLE I am literally vibratibg my molecules are breaking a part I am turning into mist. Please read The Vampire Lestat.

[ruddyhotelau]

What canl you tell me about the other archangels (besides Lucifer and Michael) in your AU?

I will give you the whole background information for all of them, Lucifer include

Saint Michael - Justice

- The eldest child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel, the General of the God’s army, the highest Prince

- Personalities:

+ Strict

+ Absolutely loyal to God, always put Heaven as top priority

+ Hard on himself both physically and emotionally

+ High egotistical

+ Workaholic

+ Irritated most of the time (good at hiding it in front of other angels except from his siblings)

+ Bad at emotions

+ Hates crowded place and associating with people

+ Keeps his face neutral and solemn most of the time

- Tattoo location: Left deltoid

Lucifer Morningstar - Aspiration

- The 2nd child (he/him)

- Position: Seraphim

- Personalities:

+ Was considered an “outcast” in Heaven

+ Awkward

+ Ambitious

+ Idealistic dreamer

+ Quite careless

+ Emotional

+ Silly and theatrical

+ Terrible at lying most of the time

+ Felt lonely sometimes

- Tattoo location: Back of right hand

Saint Gabriel - Faith

- The 3rd child (he/she/they)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Friendly

+ Rumors seeker and drama enjoyer

+ Energetic

+ Talkative

+ Heaven’s “journalist”

+ Like to tease and pull pranks on everyone (especially on Michael after all of Heaven knows about his relationship)

+ Extrovert

+ Knows almost everyone in Heaven

- Tattoo location: Right ankle

Saint Ralphael - Kindness

- The 4th child (he/they)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Calm

+ Patient

+ Kind

+ Elegant

+ Mother vibe

+ Gentle

+ The one who can understand and sympathize with humans the most

+ The good kid who never cause troubles

+ VERY scary when angry (Michael approves)

- Tattoo location: Left upper arms’s palm

Saint Uriel - Wisdom

- The 5th child (they/them)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Carefree

+ Chill

+ Wise

+ Book addicted

+ Knows everything but at the same time clueless to their surroundings

+ Anti-social but doesn’t mind their sibling's company

+ Neutral face most of the time

+ Acts like a mad scientist when one of their experience succeeded, both in science or magic

+ Aside from reading and researching, their other hobby is sleeping and counting stars.

+ Tattoo location: Middle of the forehead

Saint Jophiel - Beauty (yellow)

- The 6th child (she/her)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Friendly

+ Kind

+ Selfless

+ Humble

+ Always sees the beauty in everything and believes that inner beauty is more important than outer appearance

+ Looks like a bunny, fights like a bear and is elegant like a peacock

+ Loves classical music and heavy metal rock

+ Appeared dreamy most of the time

+ Artistic person

- Tattoo location: Right collarbone

Saint Chamuel - Peace

- The 7th child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Fashionable

+ Sly

+ Heaven’s “relationship counselor”

+ Drama enjoyer

+ Understanding and sympathetic

+ Straight femboy

+ Slay bitch with snarky comments

+ Silver tongue

- Tattoo location: Left chest

Saint Azrael - Death

- The 8th child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Shy and quiet

+ Mysterious

+ Into dark humour

+ A softie

+ Is often mistaken as a scary guy

+ A good listener

+ Opens up more to his siblings

+ Strict and serious about his job but still very kind to the good souls that he guides but shows no mercy to souls who were terrible people

- Tattoo location: Nape

*)The tattoo was Lucifer's idea. He designed it since he was very young and recommended to his siblings that they should all share this mark together. This is the special mark that represents the strong bond between the siblings. Later, even after Lucifer has fallen, none of them erased the tattoo. They all still kept it till now.

This is what the tattoo looks like, each siblings have a different color for their tattoo

[noassparetime]

RUN BABY RUN . ( leon kennedy x f﹗ reader )

LISTEN : this is extremely self indulgent﹐ i read haunting adeline and i ' ve pretty much been wanting to do this for a while .

PART 2

also if you want to be on a taglist﹐ comment below . <3

word count : 1225

WARNINGS : male masturbation﹐ stalking﹐ talk about being ╱ feeling like you ' re being watched .

AS USUAL NO MINORS UNDER THE LINE I HAVE THE FBI ON SPEED DIAL

my throat burns as i swallow the whisky . it ' s my fourth glass since i ' ve been here . i can ' t stand seeing her around other men . my perfect [ Y/N ] tainted by their energy . the way their hands grip her waist makes me sick .

i know what you ' re thinking﹐ " leon﹐ it ' s a funraiser﹐ she ' s being polite . " i know she is﹐ but while she ' s out there﹐ her innocence on display for every man in this room﹐ they ' re around her like vultures﹐ waiting for the second her guard is down .

but they don ' t know her like i do . they don ' t know the dirty things she says at night . they ' re drawn to her innocence﹐ but me﹐ i ' m drawn to her darkness .

the kind she only displays in her own space .

it ' s been four weeks since spain﹐ three and a half since ashley ' s party﹐ and three since i first saw [ Y/N ] . her father is in the secret service﹐ he was one of the men who helped ashley get back home﹐ she frequently visited him﹐ bringing him lunch﹐ a coffee﹐ whatever he needed .

god i still remember it like it was yesterday . her hair﹐ the way it shined in the sun﹐ the distinct scent i now know is gabrielle chanel radiating of her smooth skin . the way you could see her tummy pudge stick out of her dress ever so slightly . she was fucking perfect . and she will be mine .

what she doesn ' t know﹐ is that i ' ve successfully hacked into the camera system surrounding her very﹐ very gated neighbourhood . i know when she leaves﹐ when she comes home﹐ and if i angle it just right﹐ i can see right into her bedroom .

she ' s a little disorganised﹐ notebooks scattered all over her desk﹐ articles of clothing littering her bedroom floor . if she was mine﹐ she ' d never have to lift a fucking finger .

i ' m snapped out of my own head as a hand rests on my shoulder﹐ my neck cranking around to see the commissioner behind me .

" mr . kennedy . " he speaks﹐ his voice raspy﹐ his tone remaining stoic . " enjoying your day off﹖"

i watched as he sat next to me﹐ i offered him a nod﹐ it prompted a bellowing laugh﹐ his shoulders raising a little too much .

" always a man of few words﹐ huh . " he said﹐ gesturing at the waiter for another round .

it ' s not that i hated the commissioner﹐ i just knew what he did in the dark . he ' s been through three divorces﹐ his kids filed for emancipation  before they reached 16﹐ and all his ex wives have restraining orders . he was a drunk with itchy palms .

my eyes drift back to my little doll﹐ a bright smile never leaving her perfectly glossed lips as she kneels down﹐ studying a drawing one of the orphans shoved in her face . she volunteered at the children ' s home three times a week﹐ she was a fucking saint . her sundress clung to her body just right﹐ her curves on full display﹐ yet﹐ she was still dressed appropriately . her tits filled out the neckline just perfectly .

the commissioner spoke on next to me﹐ mumbling something about how i ' m just about the luckiest guy on earth for surviving that fucking village AND raccoon city . i ' ve heard it all before﹐ leon the wonder cop﹐ leon﹐ the raccoon city hero . i ' m sick of it . everyone notices me﹐ everyone but her .

she sits with the kid for a few more minutes﹐ helping them neaten up the drawing . my hands grow clammy as i see her stand up﹐ her eyes immediately meeting mine . her hips sway gently as she saunters over towards me .

" commissioner jordan﹐ mr kennedy . " she greets﹐ fuck my cock strains against my jeans at the sound of her voice . it ' s like angels are singing . " here to potentially adopt﹖" [ Y/N ] teases﹐ knowing full well the answer is a hard no .

" too many already . " the commissioner chimes in and i see something shift in [ Y/N ] ' s gaze . she doesn ' t like him either . she lets out a nervous laugh as she turns her attention to me . her eyes locked on mine . i shake my head﹐ a hand raising as i flash her a smile .

her mothers voice echoes from the back﹐ calling her name . she was the small town ' s golden girl﹐ she could do no wrong . she offered us a polite goodbye﹐ wishing us a good time as she turned around﹐ heading to her mom . i practically felt my pants grow tighter as i watched her walk away .

i left soon after﹐ heading back to my apartment . i undress﹐ now in just a pair of boxers as i settle in behind my setup . about five monitors take up the space on my wall . my eyes are glued to the screen﹐ waiting for her arrival . finally after what feels like a fucking eternity﹐ she comes home . i watch her make her way to her bathroom﹐ her bedroom giving me a front row seat to the show .

she steps in﹐ the water flowing over her perfect frame . i slowly ease my hand into my underwear﹐ stroking my length as the water makes its way between the valley of her perky tits﹐ down her stomach where it eventually disappears between her thighs .

a moan escapes my throat as my thumb runs over my sensitive tip﹐ the muscles in my legs tense from the sensation﹐ my eyes shut momentarily as i imagine the hand wrapped around my dick belongs to her . i open my eyes and my breath hitches in my throat at the sight .

my little doll hunched over ever so slightly as her head hangs﹐ one arm extended﹐ her hand planted against the wall for support as the other explores her cunt . this was a beautiful fucking moment . i follow her lead﹐ matching her pace as i jerk myself in unison . i can ' t hear her﹐ but i most certainly can imagine what she sounds like . moans like honey dripping from her tongue﹐ painting the room golden as she speeds up her movements .

a feel the familiar burn in my stomach﹐ my balls growing tighter as my chest heaves up and down﹐ she ' s close too﹐ her legs are shaking . i speed up﹐ chasing my high as she chases hers . such a good fucking girl .

i let out a breath as i reach my climax﹐ the muscles relaxing as ropes of cum shoot out of me﹐ coating my stomach just below my chest . my eyes are shut as i work on controlling my breathing . i open my eyes﹐ my vision blurry as i stare at her again . her knees buckle slightly﹐ her arms extending to catch herself before she falls . i chuckle .

if that ' s how she reacts to just her finger on her clit﹐ she has a lot waiting for her as soon as she ' s mine .

[ Y/N ] steps out of the shower﹐ drying her body off before getting dressed and into bed . i clean up my mess﹐ securing my underwear around my waist once again .

i can ' t take this anymore . she ' ll be mine by sunset tomorrow . i look at the screen one last time﹐ my finger grazing the pixels that make up her face .

" see you soon﹐ baby . "

[familyagrestefanblog]

I find it... kinda irritating how saying that Hero Gabriel is still a failure of a father even if he's not a bad person is apparently somewhat of a hot take.

It is irrelevant at what extreme end of the moral spectrum Gabriel is - sadistic villain or heroic saint - fact still remains that you wouldn't notice either with Monarque or Hesperia that they are fathers at all, while simultaneously both Adriens are clearly depicted as teenagers who basically have to re-settle themselves into their lives after they were emotionally orphaned in every sense that matters.

It is irrelevant that Alt Gabriel is a hero, not a bad person or that he wasn't outright abusive like our Gabriel, nothing will change the fact that Griffe Noire Adrien's path to healing goes the same route as our Adrien's.

And that is AWAY from his father, not WITH him.

Griffe Noire at the end was roughly were our Adrien started off at the beginning of the show, just this time with a better path ahead Ladynoir wise since they know their identities.

He changed for the better when our Adrien gave him the self-acceptance, understanding and sympathy he didn't receive from Alt Gabriel or anyone else for the matter.

Helped him overcome the grief of loosing their mother and accepting that the self-harming behavior he's acting on (or both of them) is not something she would want for them.

There are 2 reasons why Alt Adrien couldn't get over his mother's death, and that's 1) because unlike our Adrien, Alt Adrien didn't try finding new happiness in friendship, and 2) because he too couldn't count on his remaining parent (Gabriel) which made him feel his mother's loss even worse.

Alt Gabriel could be the greatest hero of all time and he still would be a fucked up father because he was so busy being a saint that he apparently barely was a father. When alt Gabe cries in the sewer one would think he'd bring up his child as one of his main motivations, but no, he doesn't.

Because Hesperia is just as little characterized as a FATHER as Monarque.

That aspect of Gabriel didn't change.

Hesperia didn't even fucking know that his son is Griffe Noire either, how attentive to you think this man IS??

Alt Adrien goes on the same path as our Adrien and that's away from being emotionally dependent on his father - the way a 14 year old should normally ALLOWED TO BE bc thats NATURAL and how it's supposed to be - to make friends, but most importantly he sure as hell went on being emotionally dependend on HIS Maribug the way our Adrien was/is

Especially the last picture is extremely telling (and one would think our Marinette would finally start paying attention bc Griffe Noire's change right in front of her eyes is literally all she would need to help her fully understand HER Chat Noir's behavior and how that came to be. But apparently we can't ever have Marinette pick up on the most obvious stuff about Chat Noir's problems).

Unlike Toxinelle who is waving goodbye while holding Griffe's hand, HE is not acknowledging our dimension anymore even when he's the last one to enter the portal by a good bit, bc he's so fixated on his Maribug as his whole world bc just like our Adrien he's literally emotionally an orphan and needs an anchor like everyone else.

Good chance that Toxinelle thinks they're just normally holding hands and she's merely going in first, but no, he is letting her lead him out. He doesn't care whats behind or ahead of him, he's just seeing her.

Alt Gabriel is an awful father and you can tell because Alt Adrien literally has to re-settle in life similar to an orphan while his father is still alive and living in the same damn house!

THAT'S what decides if Alt Gabriel is an awful father, NOT him running around as a charming hero. The quality of parenthood is NOT measured by how "good of a person" the parent is, it's measured by the child's fucking well-being

And I don't know if you noticed it by now, but this is the same logic as our Gabriel being hailed a hero after his death. The special already elaborates on this new angle of Gabriel suddenly being a "hero" while he very clearly was a monstrous failure of a father (and person).

So what side are YOU gonna be on here?

Are you going to victim blame Adrien by just declaring Gabriel Agreste a great, blameless and loving father now because that's what you're being told at face-value while the narrative conveniently plays the case in Gabriel's favors by removing all of them from the dimension they are actually from so his faults are being mostly covered up, and Adrien's looks worse without its proper context of their home-dimension and father-son dynamic

Or are you going to fucking LOOK at the child this amazing hero is emotionally abandoning on a daily in way too many ways and ask yourself if that's the result of a competent and attentive parent?

[dross-the-fish]

"Harry, you're going to get yourself expelled!"

I resisted the urge to laugh. Gabriel was so unaccustomed to raising his voice that it always cracked whenever he got riled up enough to shout. The flimsy mustache he was trying to grow bristled as he prepared to lay into me for my latest indiscretion.

Ever the good school boy and stickler for obeying the rules, I'd anticipated that Gabriel Utterson would give me a good and proper finger wagging once he saw the state of my nose. It was easy enough to talk him down. I flashed him a winning smile "Come off it, Gabe. Are you going to rat me out?"

"I ought to! I really ought to! You're going to be a doctor, Henry! This brawling at pubs is beneath you!"

Ah yes, brawling at the pub. Let him think that. I shrugged amiably and managed to conjure up a look of contrition for him, "It's not what you think! I ran into that Lawson bloke on my way to have a drink and the man was completely blind drunk. He took a swing at me! Don't glare at me so, I only hit him a little. I had to defend myself, didn't I?" It was a half truth. Lawson hadn't been at the pub, I'd followed him home.

And I'd hit him first.

But who was going to believe him over me?

I confess I felt a little ashamed of myself at the look of relief that came over Gabriel's face. He was so eager to believe that I was as much of a saint as he was that he ate up every lie I fed him. Maybe it was better that way. Was it so bad to keep him blissfully ignorant?

"I-I suppose that's fair. Maybe you ought to stay away from the pub, at least until we finish school. Less drinking and more studying, eh? It's about time we grow up, right?" there was an almost pleading quality to his voice that made me hate him and want to comfort him all at once.

I forced a smile, "You're right of course, Gabe, it wouldn't do to have Dr. Jekyll get a reputation as a violent thug, would it?"

The words were barely out of my lips before I felt the weight of a door slam shut. Utterson was clapping me on the back and calling me "Good man!" as far as he was concerned that was the matter settled. Dr Henry Jekyll was a man of good standing who would never stoop to violent indiscretions.

The image had it's appeal. I certainly wanted to be the kind of man Utterson thought I was.

So why did I feel as though I was split in two?

......

Had some thoughts about a young Henry Jekyll and wanted to play around with the idea that he's always been Hyde and Utterson just never picked up on it, or maybe even willingly blinded himself to it. this may or may not be canon in my AU but it was interesting to explore.

[e-rated-beardo]

Scorn and the Saint-Maker Chapter 12: You got blood on your face

Summary: Fell runs into a pair of strangers out to buy a cottage, who act like they have met him before. Crowley needs answers – and conducts a questionable investigation.

Rating & warnings: fic E; chapter T. Chapter notice for lacerations and blood (not on anyone's face, despite the title) + brief homophobia/canon-appropriate homophobic slur. Fic has more warnings - please see tags.

Excerpt:

It had taken a good while for the idea to even form in his mind and longer still for it to solidify. That visit from Bea had kicked him in the shin with the realisation that he needed to know. Damn him, but he was Anthony Crowley, the mathematician; he couldn’t just see a big question and leave it unanswered. To the extent anyone could know at all, he needed to know, or else he would fret about it for the rest of his life. Gabrielle Harper’s office was next door to his. It had been locked and largely untouched since she had passed away. His initial idea had been to climb out through his own office window and simply take a few steps to the right, but of course, those things only opened tiny cracks for ventilation. Thus, once he judged the building thoroughly empty, he left his office and went out into the drizzle.

Read chapter 12 on AO3 ➡️ or start from the beginning ↩️ (WIP, ~48k words)

Since I'm supposed to be a student now (help I have no idea how to do this anymore it's been TWELVE YEARS help) I didn't really feel I had the time for chapter art this time. So of course I did some anyway. In my defence, I called it done before my brain had time to grab the watercolours.

[thoseyoulove]

Reacting to The Vampire Lestat - Part V (with a bit of spoilers and maybe important quotes?)

Armand!

YAY!

Okay, what the hell is happening?

??????

Seriously, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?

Am I lost because I'm reading the Brazilian Portuguese version and maybe it's not properly translated?

*Downloads an English PDF copy* Yeah, this isn't much better and it looks like it was poorly transcript.

I'm still not sure I'm following...

Well

Whatever

I still like this anyway?

Also, I can see I'll have to read at least this book twice anyway. Maybe more or even the whole chronicles.

Because since Armand showed up I'm DEVOURING this and I can see myself maybe missing a few details... I'll need to read it slower and savor it in the future. I also assume that knowing more of the lore will give me perspective on a future read.

Armand is never boring.

Still my favorite character. :) Let's hope nothing ever ruins that. :) /hj

Not one Lesmand/Armandstat interaction is wasted tbh, I don't care if they're vibing or hating each other's guts, they're always A MOMENT™.

Let's hope nothing ever ruins that. :) /hj

They also have some pretty valid and intriguing conversations, really.

The impression I get is that they want to stay close, but deep down know it's better not to because they're so messed-up and would be even more messed-up as friends or else (and maybe it's the or at least one of the reasons why they attract each other?), but there's some frustration in that acknowledgement too. Like, doing something because you should is not the same as doing it because you want to and... Well.

I mean, there's more I could say, but this is the short version of how I generally feel about them lol.

Can't wait to see all of this on season 3.

Assad is right, I want Armand to be unhinged too. So glad we're on the same page about all thigs Armand ever and that the spirit of Armand posses Assad on a daily basis so he can play him 100% the way I imagine him. SMILING THROUGH IT ALL, CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS MY LIFE RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm also ready for more Lestat (Armand's version) and finally some Armand (Lestat's version). Let the battle begin. I wonder who will be more insufferable.

Little bit of Armand's back story. :/ I wanna put him in a bubble.

I don't really think I'll be interested in Marius, tbh.

Anyway... He's not here yet.

Gabrielle jumps from roofs like Cat Woman and Armand quickly and silently vanishes from places like Batman. I hope we keep the Gotham-esque vibes of these scenes. I think it's super cool tbh.

I also love seeing Armand talking to people telepathically? Feels so much deeper and kind of poetic, idk. Not to mention is such a cool concept. I hope the show explores more of that.

Also, when he stops blocking his thoughts and let's someone peek at his thoughts it feels intimate? And not necessarily romantic or anything like that, but just like, "hey, this is a little piece of my soul, I'm sharing it with you". Or maybe I'm too romantic and trying to find the beauty in everything lol.

But then he finally speaks out loud and it feels deeper and more meaningful as well? I don't know. Maybe I'm becoming insane.

Lestat went like 3 pages without mentioning Armand's beauty. I'm proud of him.

Nevermind, now he is mentioning it 50 times per sentence. Even more than he did before. It's like he regretted it and it's making up for lost time lmao.

Some of the words Lestat has used to describe Armand so far: beautiful, sublime, ethereal, exquisite, perfect, soft, saint, angel (there's more, but it's been so many synonyms for beautiful I can't remember... still, you get the point). Not to mention comparing him to a Caravaggio and Da Vinci paintings.

I feel like he'll run out of words to describe him pretty soon.

I guess we all feel pretty (not) normal about Armand.

This is also ruining it for me, because if someone doesn't describe me as "irresistibly beautiful" then what is even the point, really...

And it's not like they're a couple or anything, SO??? STOP!!!

They're not lovers, they're not friends, they're not enemies, they're a fourth and more sinister thing that not even them can classify, let alone my mere mortal self.

Anyway, I hope Lestat will be even more annoying describing Louis. He set the bar too high now.

I wonder if Louis appears (for a significant amount of time) on this book.

I hope so, but I don't know.

"But I was so glad it was finished. So glad that we could go on. Yet I held to the bars for a long time just looking at the distant woods, and the dim glow far beyond that the city made upon the lowering clouds. And the grief I felt was not only for the loss of him, it was for Nicki, and for Paris, and for myself." This is sad...

"So let him be your patron saint if you need it" LMFAOOOOOO.

Is Gabrielle wrong, though?

NO, SHE ISN'T!

Just have fun with your immortality instead of going on an uncertain quest to find Marius? Stop being stupid???

You'll probably just find danger or disappointment. Or both.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF REASON, LESTAT!

"And the sense of grief came back to me, the realization that we were really going, that it was finished with Nicolas and finished with the Children of Darkness and their leader, and I wouldn't see Paris again, or anything familiar to me, for years and years. And for all my desire to be free, I wanted to weep." So, he finally starts making a life for himself away from his abusive family. Then, he is forcefully turned into a vampire, has to live this double life with mortals, without ever being able to be completely open, honest and have real, deep relationships with them. Later, he turns Gabrielle, Nicki, meets Armand and the other of his kind, but they're all so troubled or with completely different interests... And it's clear as a day that they can't stay together anymore, he's slowly coming to the realization he's losing everything and everyone he knows and will soon be alone again... I'm (not) fine.

Also, this is so BPD-coded of him. He's had these pretty sad and traumatic moments, but he never allowed himself to feel those emotions for too long, he always found stuff to distract himself with, tried to see the "the good side" of things, embrace them, be positive instead etc, but you can only ignore it so much until it becomes such a big problem you can't possibly avoid anymore. And then the emotion hits 9483958345x harder than it would have if you processed things properly and had better coping mechanisms. Like, I get him, but OMG. Get him some vampire therapist.

Btw, Armand feels pretty BPD-coded too.

I also heard somewhere that Armand is a Scorpio?

And Lestat is another BPD Scorpio...

That would explain A LOT actually lmao.

End of "The Vampire Armand" chapter and they're parting ways.

So I guess I'll just rot and die, then?

Or...

...Armand will return in the worst possible way lmao.

I tried to find a gif of 2x05 saying "everything is fine!" to represent how I'm feeling right now, but failed, so consider it done anyway. Everything is (not) fine!

[ca-suffit]

i haven’t read the books but from the way some book stans talk about lestat like he’s some saint, i was not expecting sam in that interview to be like no actually he loves being evil and he’s really good at it and all the stuff about male rage/akasha and the devil being like wow he’s so terrible i need to recruit him actually. and i’ve seen the odd comment on twitter that’s like oh poor sam for having to put up with this lestat character assassination. like i don’t wanna call ppl out but i saw someone say “he signed up for anne rice’s iwtv, not rolin jones’s iwtv 😢” like ??? no actually he did sign up for rolin’s adaptation. and then they act like he’s so put out by the changes like a) he’s getting paid to pay his favorite character i think he’s okay. and b) even if he has reservations or questions about a change or even outright disagrees with one, he’s always full of praise for the final product and for rolin in general. like girl he is fine lol. like he said, some changes needed to be made and were for the greater good e.g. wrt improving the louis character.

I forget if he clarified in the interview or not, but that bit he says about going to hell comes right from the books

But what had I done to Claudia? And when would I have to pay for that? How long was she content to be the mystery that bound Louis and me so tightly together, the muse of our moonlit hours, the one object of devotion common to us both? Was it inevitable that she who would never have a woman's form would strike out at the demon father who condemned her to the body of a little china doll? I should have listened to Marius's warning. I should have stopped for one moment to reflect on it as I stood on the edge of that grand and intoxicating experiment: to make a vampire of "the least of these." I should have taken a deep breath. But you know, it was like playing the violin for Akasha. I wanted to do it. I wanted to see what would happen, I mean, with a beautiful little girl like that! Oh, Lestat, you deserve everything that ever happened to you. You'd better not die. You might actually go to hell. But why was it that for purely selfish reasons, I didn't listen to some of the advice given me? Why didn't I learn from any of them-Gabrielle, Armand, Marius? But then, I never have listened to anyone, really. Somehow or other, I never can.

he's not a saint (but he wants to be one for a second lol) but I personally didn't feel like he was that "evil" either. anne rice wasn't rly a good writer and fired her editor 3 books in on top of it. the series was unplanned and it's a wreck. he does awful shit but nothing I'd view makes him rly "evil," so it was a struggle for me to get on board with all that. an internal fight about how he views himself, I could understand, but idk what was rly that bad otherwise. especially cuz she was so in luv with him that consequences for anything he does just drop off as the books go? let me not write a whole thing about this lol. but ya the good and evil thing is from the books. the rice-a-ronis do mention it in posts sometimes but ever since the show has aired, everything has to be explained away now, bcuz they don't like black and brown characters or fans judging their white fav. he's either an innocent meow meow or a gothic monster, depending what mood they're in that day to dodge whatever criticism comes for them.

AMC explores a lot of stories about violent men so I've never understood this insistence like it's going to be some soft romantic series. the romance is gonna exist in the violence somehow, especially cuz they're vampires. louis slamming dreamstat's head into a rock wall while being goaded to do it bcuz dreamstat says it's the only way louis knows how to luv is sort of peak loustat for where we're at rn. I'm sure eventually they'll be more tender but it's still gonna have gritty undertones for the network it's on and who is writing it. the stans luv to make it about gendered shit, like rolin is ruining it all bcuz he's a man, but anne rice wrote violent, fucked up things too. worse than the show is prbly going to go. it's all excuses. u can just not like something without having to justify ur dislike of it to death. like damn. it's not ur taste, just stop watching??

and yes sam is a grown ass man getting prbly a good paycheck from this so loll he will be fine!

[mimisempai]

Without restraint

Summary

As they walk hand in hand, Aziraphale realises how familiar this and other gestures have become, and marvels at being able to touch and be touched without restraint.

Notes

Beginning of my Flufftober month

Day 1 : Touch

On Ao3

Rating G -  1066 words

They were strolling through Saint James Park.

Aziraphale, delighted,  breathed in the air, which had that unmistakable autumn smell of damp earth, moss and dead leaves.

The colours of nature were shimmering in all shades of yellow, orange and red. The leaves crunched beneath their feet, and as the sun set, the air became fresher.

The chill made the angel all the more aware of Crowley's hand in his. Of the warmth of his palm against his, of their fingers intertwined.

If at first they'd been hesitant, looking for an excuse to touch in this way, now the gesture had become so familiar. 

So familiar that it still amazed Aziraphale.

Not just holding hands so naturally, but any kind of touch.

Because now it was part of the way they expressed their feelings for each other.

An open display of affection in the touch given and received.

Aziraphale thought back to all the times he'd wished a brush or a light touch could last a little longer.

So as not to lose that connection.

First touches that had often been the result of circumstance.

Aziraphale's arm supporting Crowley's waist as he staggered drunkenly after swallowing a bottle of laudanum.

Aziraphale's fingers brushing Crowley's as the demon returned his book bag to him in the rubble of the church in 1941.

The handshake lingering slightly as they swapped bodies on the bench in St James's Park.

Aziraphale's hand resting on Crowley's chest in the crowded pub, the touch lingering just long enough for his hand to slip until it lost contact.

Their palms touching, their fingers almost intertwining, with no time to get used to each other, changing with each turn of the dance.

Aziraphale's hand, unable to resist the overwhelming emotion, grabbing the demon's arm in front of the couple of Gabriel and Beelzebub. His hand reaching into the empty air as Crowley moved away.

His hand on the demon's back as his lips were on his, too fast, too intense, too big to really realise. Only to be aware of the loss once they were apart.

All those touches multiplying over the millennia.

Sometimes so fleeting it seems they never happened.

But never forgotten.

Leaving an invisible yet tangible trace.

"Angel?"

Raising his head, Aziraphale's eyes met Crowley's, who looked at him with a slight concern in his gaze.

Because he could, because he had the right to, and because he wanted to, the angel, without letting go of the demon's hand, rose to his tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his lips.

He smiled in amusement at the slightly confused look on the demon's face and said softly, "Just because I felt like it."

Crowley smiled at him and squeezed his hand lightly, inevitably drawing Aziraphale's attention back to their fingers and the way they were so perfectly intertwined.

He'd never imagined or hoped to share such a gesture so naturally with the demon.

But now that he had tasted the sensation of being able to touch him freely, and even more so to have his touch wanted and welcomed, Aziraphale knew he couldn't live without it.

Although he was still shy at times and didn't dare from time to time, he loved touching Crowley's skin, or rather, he loved touching everything about Crowley.  

Stroking his cheek.

Holding his hand.

Holding his arm.

Sleeping in his arms.

Touching his hair.

All kinds of touch given and received.

As he thought, Aziraphale's eyes had returned to their entwined hands, and Crowley's slight chuckle made him look up.

The demon said softly to him, a slight teasing sparkle in his eyes, "What are you thinking about, to be so lost in your thoughts that you don't pay any attention to me?"

Aziraphale replied, looking slightly embarrassed, "What if I told you that you have all my attention because all my thoughts are on you?"

Crowley smiled and asked, "I would like to know what you were thinking to get that look on your face as you stared at both of our hands, Angel."

Aziraphale blushed slightly, but replied nonetheless, raising their entwined hands, "I was thinking about how natural this has become for us. How my hand in yours has become so familiar." 

He paused, feeling even more embarrassed, before adding, "How I couldn't live without it."

Crowley brought their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of the angel's hand. Then he brought his other hand to Aziraphale's cheek and gently stroked the slight blush with his thumb, "Don't be embarrassed, I feel the same. Just being able to do this, angel, is like a miracle to me."

The demon bent towards Aziraphale, who leaned his cheek into his hand and he whispered, "I'll tell you a secret, I don't think I could live without it either."

This was probably the most intoxicating thing for Aziraphale, the fact that they were exploring all this together, the fact that they were talking about what they were feeling, that they were sharing, and he realised that it was probably this that made any form of touch between them all the more precious and cherished.

Because it was connected to their hearts.

Suddenly, Crowley's lips replaced his hand on Aziraphale's cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts. The demon gave it a tender kiss, then pulled back and said softly, "It's such a simple thing, and yet it seems extraordinary to me every time. I don't know, maybe it's because we've lived denying it for so long."

Aziraphale realised that they had stopped in the middle of one of the park's avenues, people passing on either side of them, indifferent or barely glancing at them as they passed, even though they themselves felt they were experiencing something extraordinary.

He says with passion, "I don't want to deny myself anymore, Crowley, I don't want us to deny ourselves ever again, for any reason. You and I have more than earned the right to love each other freely, without having to forbid each other. Without having to restrict ourselves."

Crowleyr smiled softly, amazed at the fire that animated the angel as he spoke, and couldn't help but lean forward to kiss him tenderly, and the angel returned his kiss with equal tenderness.

It was a kiss given and received without restraint.

Because they could.

Because they wanted to.

Because they loved each other.

Because they were free.

Beautiful drawing by @rins-love-wins inspired by this prompt :

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Gabriel vs Chloe/Lila

I used to frequent the Miraculous subreddit (biggest mistake of my life) to see others opinions on Seasons 4 and 5. One question I would see pop up usually is as follows:

Why do people think Chloe/Lila is worse than Gabriel?

The common answer I’ve seen is that bullying and isolation are issues that the audience can relate to, something that’s more down to earth and closer to a viewer’s potential issues. Gabriel, meanwhile, is a supervillain who makes other ridiculously costumed supervillains when they feel bad, his situation was farther out, less relatable, so hammed up at times (cartoon and all) that people would take it less seriously.

And honestly? I completely understood this answer: many viewers’ overwhelming hatred of Chloe and Lila, from what I’ve seen, stemmed from personal relation to their victims, and their own experiences with bullies. It’s completely understandable why people would feel this way.

But then I thought about it for a second, and while I still understand that reasoning, I don’t understand it in any other context.

I mean, I’ve seen people on there genuinely say that Gabriel had more redeeming qualities than them, which confuses me. Lila I kind of understand, I mean we know literally nothing about this character, and the fandom reason of “she lies for attention because her mother is barely home”, which would give her sympathy, was a little… muddled, when it’s revealed she has 3 moms that she’s somehow lying to about being their daughter (what on earth) and has multiple identities. But Chloe? Season 2-3 was showing that she did have redeeming qualities, that she cared about people (few but regardless), she was even able to suck up her own pride when being a hero! Gabriel… He’s an odd case in which the story goes back and forth on whether he’s an awful irredeemable monster, or flawed but sympathetic dad trying his best, while also flip flopping on when exactly they want you to believe as much. Right now? He’s horrible, but the narrative want you to believe he’s just “trying his best” and thinks that he somehow has the room to ask Marinette to “tell Adrien to remember all the times I was a good father” (Marinette should’ve spat on his statue ngl)

Also, Gabriel is a neglectful, dare I say abusive father! Literally mind controls his son and is trying to control him to have the “destiny” that HE wants, not caring about his son at all. He literally pretends to bond with him at one point in Season 5 just so he could give him an alliance ring and walk off smirking, planning on akumatizing him (never brought up again btw). Like, I get that Hawkmoth is more of a hammy cartoon villain, and a lot of those aspect spill into Gabriel (I mean he had a silly stupid number near the beginning of season 5 that I hate to love). But the Gabriel half is genuinely horrible, and those aspects spill into Hawkmoth. Akumatizing, physically abusing your son, and ruining his relationship to akumatize his girlfriend in Chat Blanc, emotionally manipulating him with his dead mother in both Chat Blanc and Ephemeral, literally any time he causes an akuma on purpose by ruining the life of someone he used to be close with or personally knows (the comedian, Andre, anyone working under him), emotionally manipulating his son AGAIN just so he could plan to akumatize him later, locking him up in a white room and emotionally depriving him of everything, literally everything he does in season 5 actually. I understand that some of his more atrocious actions are supervillain things, and that could be more difficult to relate to real life problems. But come on, “neglectful, abusive, controlling parent” is absolutely a real life issue that people have, and it’s a bit strange I haven’t seen that brought up more often

I’m not saying that Chloe and Lila are saints by any means at all! But I am just saying that’s it’s kind of funny that people will say, with their whole chest, that vindictive bullying is actually worse than terrorism and abusing your child, and the idea that the narrative could agree with this scares me

[unecoccinellenoire]

...Nathalie is Ladybug Miraculous holder

Gabriel's head lies nestled between atop Nathalie's thighs as she runs her fingers through his hair. He looks younger like this, his face isn't creased with the pain of grief and guilt that haunts him when he's awake.

Nathalie looks up at the casket above them where Emilie, made incorruptible by technology after magic stole her life, lies like a saint displayed for their veneration.

Her ears feel burn, she can feel a trickle of something ooze from the holes the Miraculous sit heavy in. It feels as if the Miraculous is rejecting her with its true wielder so close by.

As if it's punishing her for holding Emilie's husband like this, for all that all she's doing is trying to comfort Gabriel the best she can. She has no hopes of more. She knows she has no right to, despite how strange how stomach feels as Gabriel's breaths graze across her legs towards her core.

That's not what's happening of course. She's seen how this Miraculous had taken from Emilie too. She's just being self-indulgent now.

"Tikki," she whispers.

"Nathalie don't," her kwami says, "Gabriel wouldn't want you to do this. You know that."

"If Gabriel doesn't have the strength to do what's necessary for what he needs then I have to be the one to do it," in her annoyance her snapped response is somewhat louder than she'd meant and Gabriel shifts against her.

She freezes but he just makes an dicomforted noise and frowns.

Hated herself for having disturbed him when he barely sleeps these days she forces herself to move, gently massaging his scalp in a way she's found calms him when he can't force himself to relax without her help.

Tikki hangs in the air looking upset. She always looks upset these days.

"You know," Tikki says, "maybe what Gabriel needs isn't-"

"Spots on!" Nathalie says before the Kwami can finish, the magic of her transformation subsuming Tikki into the Miraculous.

Her hands stay on Gabriel the whole way through her transformation, slick black gloves replacing pale skin.

But once she's satisifed he won't wake up her raises one from him to call out her, "Lucky Charm!"

The black red spotted item falls into her hand. It's small. A perfect circle. A ring.

Again.

Whenever she tries like this, whenever she's not calling down what she needs mid-battle, when she asks the fates for how she can heal Gabriel and Adrien's pain she always gets this.

A ring.

She sighs. For all it has no decoration, for all it's as plain as the wedding bands on Gabriel and Emilie's fingers there only one ring that this could be.

The Black Cat Miraculous.

Her lucky charm is telling her she has to keep fighting for the Wish.

[lanniisters]

It’s Aziraphale. Not Azi or Zira.

One thing I’ve been fixated on lately is the importance of names in Good Omens; namely Aziraphale’s, namely how Crowley has been affectionately calling him Angel and the fandom “Azi” or “Zira”.

But Neil Gaiman continues to call him Aziraphale.

You’d think that being co-creator of this character, one of two people who nurtured the thought into a fully fleshed out character, he’d have the impulse - nee, he’d have the right to use a term of endearment or shorten his name; but I think it’s precisely because he cares so deeply about this character that he uses his full name.

Names are everything to angels. Think about how Michael tells Gabriel that choosing love means giving up being Gabriel; choosing Beelzebub meant losing Archangel Gabriel, patron saint of messagers, bringer of spiritual gifts and knowledge. For him, choosing love effectively meant losing his identity.

Now, think about the theory that Crowley is Raphael. Think about how falling from heaven meant becoming “Crawly”; his name, his identity, stopped being ethereal and was, instead, reduced to something animalistic, something he does when he tempts Eve. In every sense of the word, he has been casted out and belittled - now, he crawls.

Except he also asks Aziraphale to call him Crowley. In that brief interaction, Crowley decides that he will no longer let Heaven’s shame dictate who he is - and that starts with his friend, his companion, calling him Crowley. In fact, Crowley decides to bring himself closer to heaven by choosing a Crow. He is no longer looking up at Heaven from the muddied ground; he is choosing to fly. In a sense, that could be the first time he chooses to truly be on his own - he is no longer Archangel Raphael or Crawly the snake; he is Crowley.

And then he chooses Anthony J. Crowley. He humanizes his name.

So, what does this mean for Aziraphale?

First, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Aziraphale is so close in nature to Raphael - just a few letters off from being the patron saint of protection and healing. And, just like his name, Aziraphale is always just a few letters off from being good - or, at least, Heaven’s version of good. Aziraphale chooses gluttony, he chooses temptation, he confuses desperation with selfishness (think back on his actions in The Ressurrectionist and his interpretation of Crowley’s “we could’ve been us”). Aziraphale wants to be associated with Raphael, but he could never be heaven’s version of Raphael.

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale also never truly humanizes his name. He never chooses a first name, instead he goes with A. Z. Fell. He focuses on the fall; he, too, is the version of Raphael that fell.

It’s also pretty significant that he allows Crowley to call him “Angel”. In The Hitchhiker, Aziraphale deepens his voice and looks annoyed when Furfur cannot pronounce his name. He takes pride in his name and Furfur is desecrating it. So, why does he never correct Crowley when he calls him “angel”? After all, he is part of an institute that values the power of names. In one sense, it could be because Aziraphale is proud to be an angel; in another, it could be that Aziraphale temporarily (and blissfully) allows Crowley to separate him from his duties as Heaven’s soldier.

Every time Crowley calls him angel, Aziraphale temporarily chooses to lose his identity to love.

So, what does this say about Neil never shortening his name? It could be nothing. I could be reading too much into it to justify my personal choice to not shorten Aziraphale to “Azi”; or it could be a way to honour Aziraphale’s depth and complexities. He’s not Azi, he’s not Zira. He is Aziraphale.

[lustkillers]

MASTERLIST !

𝐈. ROMAN ROY.

(to be added!)

𝐈𝐈. RORY CULKIN CHARACTERS.

clyde. (electrick children)

[ TRY HARD ] - ⊹₊ ⋆ summary - he felt like she was out of reach, but he was standing in her perfect view.

[ LOVE & WAR , II. ] - ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - clyde and you yearned for each other, but poison ivy and spider-man were mortal enemies. (spider-man!clyde)

[ NOTHING THE MATTER WITH A KISS ] - ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - who knew he was head over heels for you?

euronymous. (lords of chaos)

[ WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN, THE BEAST COMES OUT ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - she only sees him in the night, and he's waiting for her.

[ BEGGIN' ON HER KNEES TO BE POPULAR ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - she wants more fame, he's helping her gain that.

[ LOOSEN UP THEIR FROWN, MAKE 'EM FEEL ALIVE ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - you're only his.

tyler. (the expecting)

[ BON APPÉTIT, BABY ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - having someone complain about his food was the tip of the iceberg, thank god you're there, right?

[ I NEED A DICK AND CONVERSATION, CAN YOU COVER ME? ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - desperate times call for desperate measures.

[ speaking in tongues, we ain’t done yet. ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. -

gabriel. (columbus)

[GOOD GIRLS ARE BAD GIRLS THAT HAVENT BEEN CAUGHT!] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - she's a saint, or is she...?

charlie walker. (scream 4)

[ DROP YOUR SHIFT AND PICK UP THE PHONE! ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - how could he ever say no to her?

jack thurlow. (jack goes home)

[ me & the devil. ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - you've devoted your life to the man above, the one you call your savior. you resisted the temptation of man, yet there was this void that needed to be filled. perhaps the devil you call 'jack' can fill that very void.

ollie sway. (the song of sway lake)

[ i’m swimming, into you. ] ⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - late night shenanigans.