#It's so desperately cold where I'm at I crave the warmth

[donelywell]

July 22 2023

Pool Break for Team Dark

I never drew water like this before, so it's clearly not the best, but it was fun drawing it none of the less.

I didn't feel like drawing an entire robot, so I made OMEGA a floaty chair for Rouge to sit on.

It was kinda fun designing their clothes, I even gave Rouge's swim suit the floral design from her Riders outfit.

I think it'd be funny if Mobians that just wear shoes and gloves lived by cartoon character rules where they need to wear pants or a shirt if they're not wearing gloves and socks.

[frogchiro]

Your latest Butcher!Simon post is haunting me, specifically the contrast you drew between Simon's fantasy of Y/N bred and baking and the implied openness and sunshine with the image, and then him retreating to his "small apartment" and "old rickety cot" to go feral fucking his hand. Like.. Damn. I had to set my phone down and go make some tea to stop feeling so flustered lmao. 10/10, gold stars all around.

ALL THAT TO SAY... After they've gotten together, Simon and Y/N choosing to stay at the apartment rather than go back to their shared house because it's storming too badly, and Simon ending the evening of railing Y/N by letting her ride him until the cot breaks. :)

Okay I'm sorry but I will totally use your ask to talk about the contrast because OH MY GOD SOMEONE ACTUALLY NOTICED😭😭😭

I usually like to make a clear contrast between the reader (You) and Butcher!Simon. It's just...I like how it kinda gives you a insight into those characters y'know? While Reader's past is mostly undefined, it was implied in one of the first posts in this au that she is quite young (around 20) and is running from something or wanted to leave her past behind for whatever reason but she still managed to settle down in this strange lone town surrounded by forests and mountains, therefore I put out the image of warmth, safety, the baking/cooking and kindness, a small but nice & well kept home etc.

Then we have Ghost, the strange, older, silent town butcher who seemingly appeared from nowhere and settled here too but it couldn't be more different than you. Simon, who got dishonorably discharged from the military under the accusation of killing some soldier, was ultimately proven not guilty (but ofc he did it) but the stain was stuck to his name like glue, not to mention his growing anger management problems were steadily growing, he got into various bloody fights and when he almost (again) beat a rookie to death then he was ultimately thrown out like trash.

So we see his deeply troubled and disturbing personality shown through his,,well, everything. The butcher's shop, the tiny cold apartment above his shop where he lives in a truly spartan way, and the old rickety and squeaking bed with some old bedsheets where he goes feral and fucks his fist until he's overstimulated thinking about you and the life he desires so so much, the home and the family he so desperately craves, a place where he can belong.

[teyamsatan]

more stepbro neteyam please im begging you on my knees pls

my panties are soaked, i'm writing this in a cafe and i am struggling to keep my composure. enjoy, anonnie. (also thank you to @cinetrix for making sure that my obsession for this man will literally never die down.)

warnings: smut (stepcest, p in v, semi-public sex - people are sleeping in same tent, pet names, slight praise kink, slight softdom!neteyam), strong language, cursing

wc: 1.7k words

You awake from your slumber with a low groan at the way the chills have overtaken your body, the dead of night furthering the discomfort you feel and the way you come to yearn for muted alleviation. You look around your adoptive family’s marui, desperate to find someone you could cuddle up to, anyone who could provide your body the warmth it craved.

Despite how much they bickered, Lo’ak and Kiri were twin souls, and they always made peace at night, sharing a woven blanket and a warm embrace. You smiled at them, shaking your head lightly at how easily forgotten all their fights seemed to be as soon as eclipse took over the land, as soon as the cover of bioluminescent darkness enveloped their consciousness. Tuk was nestled tightly in between Jake and Neytiri, and you were almost worried she would be suffocated in their grasp, one of each their arms meeting on her tiny frame, holding her close.

That left Neteyam, who seemed fast asleep on one side, one of his arms beneath his head and the other rested carelessly over his waist and abdomen, and you couldn’t help stare at this man you loved like a brother, but ached for in ways that made you ashamed and embarrassed, that you could never admit to out loud, that you were scared to even think about most days, afraid that the intensity of those thoughts was so loud, they could be heard, and Eywa, that would lead to a whole slew of issues you were too scared to even conceptualise.

But despite the way you hindered your own brain from deliberating on the way you wanted him in ways you could never have him, it didn’t stop said brain from manifesting your wildest desires in dreams and reveries, in the way you woke up each night sweating and with slick running down your ass or thighs and soaking into your mat, the way it was taunting you with images of his body, strong and powerful, muscular and lean, contracting and flexing as his cock sank deeper and deeper in you, filling the void you felt every day of your life, that you only want him to fill. 

You get up quietly and make your way to him, dragging your thin covers with you to where he lay, getting on your side so your back was to him, nuzzling until you felt his chest taut against you, until his heartbeat rang loudly in you, until it overtook your own, until it was all you heard, and all you felt. The closeness hurt you, the ache reaching new heights, and it was overwhelming as his hand instinctively reached for your body, in his sleep, his touch lighting your skin on fire, his fingers lingering on your ribs. His unyielding grip pulled you so close, your ass was rested against his groin, and you let out a sharp exhale when you noticed he was hard, when you noticed his loincloth was damp. His voice startled you as he spoke, quiet as the night that still blanketed your world and your progressively untethered self, doing a good job of hiding your disheveled form or the blush in your cheeks, but not a good job at protecting you from the increase luminosity of your freckles or the moans that escaped you when his thick cock brushed against your folds. 

“What are you doing here, pretty girl?” His mouth was near your lips, his breath fanning over the side of your face and neck, sending chills down your body and all of a sudden you didn’t know whether you were cold or hot anymore, your body struggling to comprehend all the sensations being elicited in it, in you. 

You swallowed loudly, trying to find your voice in your throat and breath in your lungs enough to be able to pull together a string of sounds that would sound normal and relaxed, and not breathy and wanting, like you knew they would be. 

“I’m cold, ’Teyam, and you were the only lonely one.” He let out a quiet chuckle and his hand started tracing your body softly, a touch so light it was barely there, and the chills deepened, goosebumps appearing in his touch’s wake. 

“Well, not anymore, and thank fuck for cold nights, huh?” his hands didn’t stop when they reached your navel, slowly inching their way south, and you whimpered a little knowing where they were going, unwilling and unable to understand what was happening to you, whether this was a dream or a nightmare, whether you were actually living this and it wasn’t just a vivid vision here to taunt you, before morning came and took it away from you forever. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing?” Your voice was breathy and weak, but alert nonetheless, aware of the situation and your adoptive family sleeping peacefully next to you, and how easy it would be for anyone to wake up and any point and witness this. The shame and fear was almost as overwhelming to you as the desire to give in to him, no questions asked, no care in the world for consequences and risks as long as it ended with your eyes rolled in the back of your head and his cum dripping down you thighs. 

“I’m not doing anything, little sis. Just here to make sure you’re… warm. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my step-sister when she clearly needs me?” The amused tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way his fingers slipped past your loincloth and found your clit, that was swollen and needy, or the way they ghosted over it and your folds in scant, fluttery touches.

“Your smell has been driving me crazy for weeks, sevin. For weeks, I’ve had to pretend to be ignorant of the way your scent has been calling out to me, your pheromones washing over me and making my cock so hard, I can’t concentrate anymore. For weeks, I have dreamt of fucking you, of slipping my cock past your sopping folds, dreamt of seeing you come apart around me. It’s so fucking wrong, but so are you. And so am I.” You shuddered at his words and how his sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, at how his fingers stilled on your clit, not giving you the release you desperately craved, at how his lips pressed on your jaw and sucked, or how they licked the spot that was now slightly hurting, immediately alleviating any discomfort you felt. 

“But I need to hear you say it, baby girl. I can’t do anything until you say it. Do you want your step brother to fuck you?” 

A moan and a small nod is all you managed in response, but it was enough for Neteyam, who started a slow caress of your bud, putting just enough pressure to make you pant, to adjust your position so he would get better access, arching your back so that your ass was pressed even tighter against him and he groaned lowly, the sound making you clench around thin air. 

“Please, Neteyam…” 

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

“You… your cock, please.” His groan evolved into a quiet growl, reverberating in the marui and you both stilled as Kiri shifted a little in her sleep. Her deep breaths put you both at ease, if only a little. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What I’ll do to you?” 

You felt his cock brush against your folds as he released it from the constraints of his nightwear, and the velvety feel of his thick length made your head fall back into the crook of his neck, needing every spare ounce of self-restraint not to moan so loudly it wouldn’t just be heard in your family’s tent, but in the whole clan. His tip prodded at your soaking wet entrance, and when he slipped past your folds and into you, each inch felt like every one of your dreams come true, and you no longer had enough brain power to stop the mewling sounds escaping you. 

“You need to be quiet, sevin. You don’t want anybody to hear, now do you? What do you think our parents would say if they saw how deep in your pretty little cunt I am, huh?”

When he bottomed out, his tip was pushed against your cervix and the way he filled you up was beyond any fantasy, better than even the most intense ones, the wildest ones, the best ones. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Who knew my little step sister would take my cock so well, like this tight pussy was made for me?” 

He started an unrushed, languid pace of his hips, that got quicker and more aggressive, more desperate and sloppy as his own orgasm approach and you felt yours taking over you slowly, raising in intensity as his fingers continued their ministrations of your clit at the same time, until it was so intense it was overpowering and oppressive, until you needed to let it out so you wouldn’t collapse under its weight. 

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You want to milk me, want to take my cum like the good girl you are?” 

You nodded furiously, and his whispered, breathy “Then come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you, all of you.” pushed you over the edge, your orgasm violent and unending, streams of liquid mixing with his own release as you squirted all over his cock, making a mess of both your loincloths and the sleeping mat underneath. You couldn’t care less about explaining yourself, not when your head was empty and your cunt full, the only way you wanted to be every day going forward, for the rest of your life. 

You both came off your high panting, struggling to catch your breath and any thoughts swirling aimlessly in your brain, and you couldn’t find it in you to move, and he couldn’t find it in him to pull out, so you just lay like that, him spooning you closely, licking stripes over your neck and jaw, and you felt desire build in you again, instant and frenzied.

“Next time, how about we put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, huh?” 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

[atinycafe]

hi!!! just binge read like all ur ateez work LMAO theyre so good. could i request an ateez imagine where theyre making out with the reader while a chase atlantic song plays in the back? u can make it smut or leave it suggestive 🩷 tyy love ur work have a good day

MAKING OUT W ATZ ON A CHASE ATLANTIC BEAT

pairing: ateez x fem!reader genre: suggestive wrd cnt: 1.9k author's note: IM BACK AFTER A WEEK LONG HIATUS HELL YEAAAA, SORRY 4 THE WAIT taglist: @satsuri3su @cqndiedcherries @hyukssunflower @ad0rechuu @hiraii-gf @marievllr-abg @liniiiaa masterlist

　　○˳　　　　　　hongjoong

he starts off slow, with gentle pecks and tender hands, drawing you closer to him. the cold air prompts you to slip your arms under his coat, seeking warmth. both of you share a pair of airpods, with "meddle about" playing in both your ears. he nibbles your neck softly, placing another kiss on your throat, and you immediately melt into his embrace.

"hongjoong, people are going to see us, we can't—" you whisper meekly as the cool wind blows around you both. before you can finish, he silences you with a lingering kiss on the lips.

"who cares," he mumbles, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his cold hands explore the skin of your waist under your shirt. suddenly, everything feels warm, comfortable, and peaceful with him holding you, and you just want to be even closer to him.

your small moan, blending with the music in his ears, is all it takes to fuel his desire. he craves more—more sounds escaping your lips, more of your touch on his skin, more of you.

but you gently push him away, and he looks down at you with confusion. bashfully, you point behind him, and he turns, groaning when he sees that the bus has arrived.

"let's continue this at home."

　　○˳　　　　　　seonghwa

your fingertip traces gently over the bridge of his nose, and you can feel his eyes on your face, but you don't bother looking at him. your gaze fixates on his lips as you immerse yourself in the lyrics of the song. slowly, you start mouthing the words, and he smirks, fully aware of what lyrics are about to come up.

"she said fuck me like i'm famous," you murmur against his lips, drawing closer with every beat of the music.

"i said okay," seonghwa whispers back, mouthing the lyrics, and you giggle before finally pressing your lips to his. your tongues clash in a fiery dance, both seeking dominance, a bit rough but passionate. you let your hands rake over the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging at the black strands. "slow down" continues playing as he pushes you back against the bed, dropping open-mouthed kisses along your neck until he reaches the edge of your cleavage.

"do you really want me to fuck you like that mmh?" he asks, taunting you, pushing his hard covered length against you, clearly wanting to hear you beg for him. but you can only focus on the sensation of his hand pressed against your lower stomach, which draws out pretty whimpers over the music instead of the pleas he so desperately desires.

"come on pretty girl tell me how bad you want it."

　　○˳　　　　　　yunho

yunho rushes over to press play on the stereo and then quickly returns to you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the bed. he doesn't give you a chance to support yourself on your elbows before he's already on top of you, showering your neck with wet kisses. you respond by cupping his cheeks with your hands, pulling him closer, and gently licking at his lips to coax them open.

yunho captures your bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking on it, and then lapping at the swollen flesh with tenderness before biting down. the loud blaring of "swim" fills the room from the brand new stereo he gifted you, ensuring his songs are always there to remind you of him whenever he's not around. and it's true, you find yourself constantly thinking about him and his sweet kisses. the passion between you two intensifies as the music sets the mood.

"mmm, my princess," he murmurs appreciatively against your lips, bending down to place a soft kiss on your jaw. your hands find their way into his hair, lightly tugging as a way of showing your pleasure, "how about you let me swim in that pussy huh?"

normally, you'd chuckle at his playful wordplay, but right now, you can only nod eagerly, urging him to move down faster by pushing his shoulders gently. he smirks against the bare skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of sweet kisses until he finally reaches his intended destination.

　　○˳　　　　　　yeosang

"sangie!! missed you so much baby!!" you squeal, leaping into his arms. he immediately drops his luggage on the floor to hold you, hugging you tightly against his body.

"i missed you too doll," he says, using his foot to close the door. with you still in his arms, he takes off his shoes and walks to the open kitchen where he drops you off on the kitchen counter softly. he notices the song playing on your macbook and the half-sprinkled cupcakes. "you've been cookin'? … on a chase atlantic beat? ozone out off all songs…"

you giggle a small "what's wrong with it" but he only looks at you with intense, heavy-lidded eyes. well someone is not in the mood to laugh. and like magnets, you're drawn to each other in an instant, sharing deep, passionate kisses that draw soft moans from both of you.

his hands roam all over your body, pressing against your flesh, pulling you closer as if he wants to imprint your body in his memory. he peppers kisses all over your face and playfully bites your earlobe.

"fuck i missed my girl so much," he says, taking a deep inhale and completely enveloping you with his form. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

"i'll give you five minutes to take your laptop upstairs, take off your clothes and lay on the bed, you're not sleeping tonight doll," he says as he takes a bite of the cupcakes you made.

"fuck these are good."

　　○˳　　　　　　san

the instant you catch the sound of san's car engine echoing outside your house, you snatch up your purse and practically bolt out the door. your dainty heels make a rhythmic clinking against the concrete, the ground itself seeming to vibrate to the thumping bass of the song.

as you finally slide into his car and reach for the seatbelt, san seizes the opportunity to let his eyes roam over you. while you're not focused on him, his gaze lingers on the way your skirt rides up your thighs, revealing a hint of your tights. the sight of them digging into your skin sends a thrill through him.

he moistens his lips and shifts his gaze to your face, licking his lips as you're absorbed in silently mouthing the lyrics of "ohmami". in perfect rhythm with the song's beat drop, san deftly readjusts his seat, pushing it back to create more room between him and the steering wheel. without waiting for your inquiry, he swiftly releases your seatbelt and clasps your waist, firmly placing you onto his lap as you let out an surprised squeal.

"what? sannie what are you doing?" your hands land on his chest, but he doesn't budge, only pulling you closer by placing his hand on the nape of your neck. he draws you in for a lingering kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, gently sucking on your tongue and playfully dancing with your own.

"y'look so good baby, let's ditch the others and have some fun on the backseat." he blows a cool breeze across your collarbone, as if he's already undressing you. his fingers grip the edge of your thighs, and you give a shy nod, meeting his gaze while biting your lip.

　　○˳　　　　　　mingi

"consume" blares through the stereo so loudly that you can hear the music from the doorway of his studio. you can't help but roll your eyes as you step inside, finding him with a frown directed at an empty space.

you stroll up to him, your fingers gently caressing his cheek from behind, coaxing his gaze to meet yours. you silently mouth a small "hi," but the music's volume drowns out the words. mingi responds by tugging at the strings of your hoodie that hang close to his nose. he draws your face nearer and plants a tender kiss on your lips, the proximity causing your noses to simultaneously brush against each other's chins, creating a playful tickle. he withdraws slightly, then swivels his rolling chair to fully face you.

he opens his legs, gazing up at you with an implicit invitation to join him on his lap. however, you merely place a knee between his thighs, arching your back until your face aligns with his. just as the featured rapper hits the beat, you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. as you start to pull back, he surprises you by deepening the kiss, biting down firmly on your bottom lip, coaxing you to part your lips. a soft whine escapes you at the slight sting, and he seizes the moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing it firmly against yours. drawing you even closer, his hands slip beneath your shirt, toying with the delicate lace of your bra.

"come on tiny, i need inspiration, why don't you let me hear your pretty sounds."

　　○˳　　　　　　wooyoung

"escort" fills the air, creating a background melody as the two of you recline lazily on the bed. it's a friday night, and the thought of navigating through the bustling streets of seoul feels like a bit too much effort. so, instead, you opt for the simple pleasure of snuggling up together on the bed, the music serving as a gentle companion to ward off any awkward silence.

your cheek rests against his bare chest, and you let your index finger trace his tummy, following the contours that his abs form, creating a shifting path. he hums a soft tune, his eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of your fingertip against his skin.

"woo," you whisper, catching him off guard. he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze, arching one eyebrow curiously, "let's fuck."

he lets out a soft chuckle as your hand ventures lower, tracing a path along his happy trail, eliciting a gentle grunt from his lips. propping yourself up on your elbow, you drape yourself over him, aligning your faces and bringing yourself down just as your hand reaches the hem of his sweatpants.

you playfully tease, sticking out your tongue and gently running it over his lips. he draws it into his mouth, sucking on it while his hand gets caught in your hair. the affectionate moment evolves into a series of fervent kisses, eventually leading him to trail his way down to your pretty pussy.

　　○˳　　　　　　jongho

jongho's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch making your gaze lock onto his. you bite your lip, trying to contain the smile that's eager to spread across your face. his thumb glides over the curve of your cheek as the song "angeline" starts playing randomly from the tv mounted on the wall.

"that's your song, angel," he murmurs against your forehead, planting a tender kiss there. his fingers play with your hair, tilting your head back to reveal your neck. he showers small kisses along the curve of your throat, feeling the gentle rise and fall as you swallow. he nips down with a bit of intensity, drawing a soft moan from you. "so lovely, sounding like an angel, and looking like one too—"

the words falter on his lips as your hand rests on his bulge through his pants, causing a soft gasp to escape you as you feel how substantial it is. weighty in your grasp, you apply more pressure, while he places fervent kisses on your collarbone, more akin to fervent nips. you squeeze your thighs together, consumed by desire.

he leans back toward your lips, and you reach your limit. your hand finds its way to his throat, and you softly draw him back, eyes glossy with need.

"please jjong, i need you now."

[indiasthoughts]

"Can you roll my window up?"

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aka- , eren, and xiao, x black readers turn on this trend

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warnings;;

suggestive, but no smut, x black reader, ,, use of the n word , fluff, she/her/hers pronouns, lowkey toxic relationships, SASSY MEN SASSY MEN SASSY MEN SASSY MEN!!!!

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authors note: ik this is such a silly contrast aot and genshin but i been craving all both men sooo😮‍💨

and for reference--

︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Ps: this is old work but i desperately need smth to post so mind the cornyness pls 🙈

୨⎯ Eren ⎯୧

Inside of the 6'3 mans black BMW M4 was a beautiful girl in his passengers seat, annoyed and frustrated.

see- this girl had a few things that annoyed her that he knew of yet still did when she rode in someones car.

one- rolling her window down and leaving her cold in her black skims dress. two- playing music she's not fond of at the moment, if she's in a brent faiyaz mood why play warren g? and three- not listening to what she had to say.

so when her boyfriend, Eren, of three months did all three at the same time frustration ng came crashing down

"Eren, baby, please roll my window up.", rubbing her arms to create any sort of warmth.

- and to no avail, ignored.

"babe..."

- ignored.

she furrowed her eyebrows and turnt the music down to a volume of 2.

"Can you roll my window up?!"

"No, ur attitude ruining my vibe bro"

As "2SEATER" By tyler the creator started playing, he turned the volume up, but not as high as he had it before, out of the slightest bit of respect.

"Who the fuck is your bro?"

"Ma what I told you about swearing?"

She reached over to his side, unbuckling the seatbelt as her boyfriend stopped at a red light. she pressed the passengers window button and rolled her window up.

"Now the music aint hitting from all angles!!"

"Imma hit you from all angles."

He once again put the windows down.

"Whos car this is?"

"Who sitting here?"

"Ion know what you have an attitude for..."

"Oh my god."

she leaned into her seat, embracing the cold she'd have to deal with for the next 15 minutes.

about another minute passed, and Eren was already tired of the awkward atmosphere.

"Baby im sorry"

"mhm.."

he held a small frown as he pulled up into a empty parking spot .

Tyler spoke in the background- 'the fuck you turn my music down for?'

"mamas it's us" he said with the widest grin he could possibly hold.

'can you roll my window up?'

you lip synced to the girl's parts.

'Why? damn.'

as he would too.

"Cause it's windy." You audibly spoke this time.

"But I love it when your hair blows."

as the beat dropped, he reached in and gave you a kiss.

ewww this was so sickenlybsweet ugh me and who🤢🤢

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

୨⎯ Xiao ⎯୧

you and your boyfriend, Xiao had been lying down in his bedroom, while you played with his cat on his lap, he did his homework. There was a specific way he liked to have his room, cold. whether it's the ac blasting on days where the cold was too much too have his windows open, or open windows, on the warmer days. Today happened to be one of the warmer days. And despite the baggy sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and one of his sweaters, his room was still too cold for you. As much as you cuddles up with Astro, the cat, and your boyfriend, it was still unbearable.

"Xiao, lets close the windows please.."

"I won't be able to concentrate."

he furrowed his eyebrows and said that with in the sturnest way he could.

"I'm gonna head into the living room then"

You grabbed the cat, and as quick as one leg came down, it came back up.

He played a faveorite playlist of his, when "2SEATER" came first.

"Sit back down pretty?" more of a question than a command.

"Damnn nigga it's cold!"

"m'sorry, stay wimme ok?"

He turned the volume up and held your waist, bringing his lips to your neck and nibbling your neck.

You knit your brows together, feeling a gush of cold air, and flinched softly. Taking his phone that was connected to his JBL speaker, and lowering it.

"Can you roll the windows up?"

"Whyd you turn the music down"

he puts it back on, lowly chuckling at the perfect timing on the song.

"Can you roll it up?"

"Why?, damn"

"Because it's!-"

You slowly realise the timing on the song and this mini arguement.

"But i love it when your hair blows.."

As he finally removed his lips from your neck, and tilting your neck to crane your head and meet his lips.

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 8: Penance

Contents | Part 7 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) "This was it. This was really happening."

Word Count: <4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery, explicit sexual content from the outset. Smut: penetrative sex/unprotected sex, (some)dirty talk, other things I’m sure but it’s 4am and I’m tired. Readers must be 18+

Kissing him now was different than before. 

In the church it had been desperate, chaotic, a deliverance from lust that served neither of you well. This time, though, there was no rage; no fury in his touch, no aggravation in your chest. 

Your mouths moved, deep and slow, luxuriating in the taste of one another without the fear of interruption. You weaved your hands into the back of his hair, the silky, damp locks slipping between your fingers. His lips parted against yours, a heavy breath escaping him as you tugged his head back gently, like a hot, satisfied sigh of relief. You wondered how long he'd been starving himself of this intimacy, how someone who kissed like this would ever have the strength to abstain.

His tongue swept into your mouth, so fluid yet dominant in its invasion. You revelled in the taste of him; the cigarette he'd smoked, the whiskey he'd drank at the party, the intoxicating warmth of his breath. This was the same tongue that spoke to god, that gave sermons in church and preached of chastity, now gliding against yours in a sinful union, inciting feelings within you that he'd so adamantly condemned. 

You moaned softly against his lips, pressing your body harder against him. His damp clothes were cold now, making you shiver as the rainwater seeped through to your chest. Your nipples began to harden in response, sending jolts of prickly pleasure to your core with every brush against them. 

His hands skimmed up your back, the sensitivity of his touch lost against the thick material of your jumper. You wanted him to delve beneath it, craved the warmth of his large palms splayed across your flesh. But his movements were unhurried, and you weren't sure if it was out of reverence or doubt. But then he rolled his hips beneath you, pressing a straining erection up against your centre, and it definitely didn't feel like doubt. 

There was a part of you that was surprised to find him so hard, eager, aching to break out of his confines and sink between your legs. But the other part of you knew; from the moment you met him he seemed to know exactly how to burrow straight to the core of you. To delve beyond the awkwardly timed jokes and resigned disposition to the place where it all made sense. Where you made sense. It was like he belonged within the very depths of you, and he wanted to be there. You wanted him there. Mind and body. 

The feeling was torturous; the friction, the pressure, the connection stifled by layers of clothing and his forbearing restraint. 

"Touch me," you whispered against his lips. 

"I am touching you." 

"No, touch me." You reached back and gripped his wrists, attempting to guide him beneath the jumper. 

He closed his eyes and let out a growling sigh. It made you halt, leaning back slightly to look into his eyes. 

"Please don't hate me." 

"Why would I hate you?" he replied. 

"I don't know. You just seem... angry." 

"I'm not angry, Ellis. I'm devastated." He moved his large hands to frame your face, thumbs on your cheeks, fingers curved around the back of your neck behind your ears. "You have... devastated me." 

A breath caught softly in your throat, your voice barely audible as you muttered. "I'm sorry." 

"No you're not." 

He returned his mouth to yours and you gasped at the newfound fervour in his kiss. Sharp teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue less gentle in its assault. He said you weren't really sorry, and perhaps that was true; a sorry person would have stopped him, spared him, absolved him of his sins before they burgeoned beyond forgivable. But instead you let him kiss and bite and lick at your parted lips, hummed in approval as he brought his hands to your bare thighs - fingertips bruising in their rough grasp - and bore down against the hard bulge beneath his trousers.

There was a fire deep in your core, flames licking and dancing as they swept through your body. Your skin puckered with heat, every touch searing, every kiss and ragged breath drawing the blaze closer to the surface. You had never wanted someone this desperately before, never been so aroused that you could feel it tingling in your scalp, surging in your stomach and pooling between your legs as your clit pulsated with need.

You dragged the jumper over your head, turning it inside out as you impatiently peeled it from your body and threw it to the ground beside the couch. For three years, no one had seen you naked except Alfie, and there was a comfort that came with that. He'd already acquainted himself with the curves and blemishes of your body, the parts you liked and didn't. He'd seen the scar from an old bellybutton piercing, traced his fingers over the stretch marks on your hips. You never had to fear exposing yourself to him. Most of the time you never even had to; his eagerness to shove inside you completely outweighing his desire to fully undress. 

For weeks you'd opened your legs for him, closed your eyes as he clumsily thrust into your body and imagined Father Benedict there instead. You would sink into a world of steepled ceilings and stained glass, dark curls and white collars. But when it was over, you would open your eyes and be back in the house - Gina's house - with Alfie's satisfied smile gleaming down at you. 

But this time, Father Benedict wasn't a fantasy, and those piercing blue eyes were actually there, trailing over you in silence. You suddenly became very aware that you'd revealed yourself to him; bare chest, uncovered stomach, dips and contours and textures and curves, parts of you that had belonged solely to someone else for the last three years. A shyness washed over you, the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But as his gaze raked over your body, hands gliding slowly up your sides, you stilled.

A heavy breath fell from his parted lips, the exhale rattling with a soft growl. "Forgive me, Father," he muttered, his voice so low it was barely audible.

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or if he really was speaking to God; begging for mercy before he'd even taken a bite of the forbidden fruit. 

He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your collarbone as his fingers dug into your hips. Your head fell back instinctively, opening yourself up to him, eyes closing as the warmth of his tongue trailed up to your neck. A shiver ran through you like static, raising goosebumps and tightening your nipples into painful, hard pearls. He hadn't spoken directly to you, and yet somehow every insecurity you had began to melt, dripping from your centre in wet, hot desire. 

You took his hair in fistfuls as he traipsed kisses down your chest, teeth grazing over the soft flesh of each breast before pausing suddenly. You opened your eyes and brought your head forward, looking down to find him leaning back to examine you curiously. 

"Are these bruises?" he asked. 

You glanced down at yourself; the motley of reds, purples and browns marring your breasts. 

"Love bites," you replied quietly, simply.

He glared up at you, half-lidded, jaw sharp. 

"Does it bother you?" you asked.

"The evidence of another man's mouth all over you?" 

"So it does?" 

He didn't respond, his silence confirming your suspicion. 

"Why?" you whispered. 

"Because I know he didn't deserve the privilege." 

You felt his words spark the nerves in your clit, like the striking of a match. You rolled your hips slightly, trying to ease the sudden ache. "Are you saying you do?"

"No." His tone darkened as he looked up at you. "But I plan to earn it." 

You didn't know what you were expecting him to say. But it definitely wasn't that. It made you wish you could see yourself through his eyes - a woman he had to earn. You leant forward and swept him into another kiss; so overcome with need and adulation, the feeling of being desired and appreciated almost as arousing as his lips on your bare skin. He returned your kiss, just for a moment, before bringing a hand to your face, gripping your cheeks between finger and thumb to peel you away.

"After tonight, no one will ever touch you again unless they're worthy of you," he said, his voice so quiet and serious, lips grazing yours as he spoke. "Will you promise me that?" 

You nodded, as much as his grasp on your face would allow. 

He eased his grip, seemingly satisfied with your response, and allowed you to melt into him again. You fumbled for the buttons on his shirt as you kissed him, popping them open one by one until you reached the collar. It seemed wrong for you to take it off. Even now as you sat straddling him, half naked and panting heavily, that strip of white plastic around his neck was like armour, an impenetrable shield, blasphemous to remove. 

"Go ahead," he said quietly, as if sensing your apprehension. "It just snaps off." 

"You don't want to do it yourself?" 

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Just do it." 

You pulled at it with shaking fingers but it didn't budge. With a slight huff you tried again, harder, hearing two quick pops, a heavy exhale from his lips. You slid it out, eyes fixed on his as you dropped it to the ground - his commitment relinquished, abandoned, discarded into the puddle of your jumper on the floor. 

He undid the last few buttons himself before placing his hands around your waist, silently granting permission for you to peel the shirt back from his body and reveal the smooth, cold skin beneath it. You lay your palms on his chest, dragging them slowly down his torso as you admired the sight, the feel, how he expanded with every breath, tensed with the tickle of your fingers. Some parts of him were soft, tender, malleable beneath your touch. Others were hard and robust, broader than you expected them to be. This person wasn't a dream, wasn't a character or a myth. This was a man. 

His throat bobbed with a deep swallow as you leant forward and placed a kiss on his chest, his hold on you tightening, body turning rigid beneath you. You trailed your lips up to his neck, revelling in the taste of him; salt and earth, soap and faded aftershave. 

"Tell me about the fantasies," he whispered through a serrated breath.

"What do you mean?" 

"I want to know what you pictured when you thought of me."

You paused before moving your mouth up to his jaw, kissing along the sharp edge, the slightest brush of stubble beginning to surface. 

"I'll tell you what I was thinking about today in my office," he wagered. 

You thought about it for a moment. "Okay. You first." 

"I was thinking about you kneeling for communion at the altar." He turned his head, his deep, gravelly voice pouring straight into your ear. "With my cock down your throat." 

You gasped gently as a rush of warmth flooded your core, making you roll your hips to ride the sudden, intense wave. 

"You give sermons with that mouth, Father," you said softly, voice trembling despite your attempt to sound playful.

His hands glided up and down your back, nails grazing lightly over your goose-bumped flesh. "Now you." 

"I never really thought of a specific scene. It's just... always you. But-" you cut yourself off, inhaling the words back into your lungs before they even had the chance to escape. 

"But?" 

You lifted your head to look at him. "One thing always stays the same." 

"And that is?" 

"You're never... Gentle." 

He buckled beneath you, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against the back of the couch, a stifled groan resonating in the base of his throat. "Hot, fiery Hell," he growled, pushing himself up between your legs.

He felt big; his cock firm and straining as it surged against your sheathed entrance. You wanted to release it, hold it in your hands, run your tongue along every inch. You wanted to acquaint the curl of your fingers with its girth, stroke, grip, tease, watch it sink gradually inside you until there was nothing left of it. For the longest time, sex had been a chore; Alfie's penis a jabbing, graceless thing that prodded around but never truly satisfied. You'd forgotten what it was like to truly crave the intrusion, to feel yourself lubricated and ready before you'd even fully undressed. 

He weaved a hand through you hair, wrenching you towards him and swallowing you in another heady, desperate kiss. The other hand slid beneath the rumpled fabric of your boxers, tracing his fingers back and forth over the crease where thigh met hip. You willed him to move further inward, mewling with every almost-touch until the sensation became unbearable. You'd waited so long for this; sat through so many sermons, suffered the ache of uncomfortable pews and unsafe bus rides, the suspicious glare of church volunteers and the boredom of those fucking support groups. It was time to embrace where it had led you to. 

You were his penance, but he was your reward. 

You reached down and began working to unfasten his trousers, battling with the complicated fly until it finally opened. He came undone with it, breathing a hot sigh into your mouth as you stroked and caressed him through his underwear. He steered his fingers over the junction of your bikini line and you gasped as they slipped easily through your wet folds, gliding back and forth before settling on your clit. 

He gave a proud hum as he rolled the pad of his thumb over the tender bud, rousing a storm in your core; sparks of lightning and deep, undulating thunder. You moaned softly, grip tightening around the outline of his rigid length. A shiver rippled through you, making your legs shake, hips bucking involuntarily and pushing you harder against his touch.

Maintaining the pressure on your clit, he moved his other hand to the waistband of your boxers - his boxers, now drenched in the evidence of your desire - silently instructing you to take them off. But you didn't want to leave him, even for a moment. Scared that your brief separation would bring him clarity, grant him just enough time to change his mind. You pressed your forehead to his as you lingered there, staring down into his eyes and searching for doubt in the flecks of his irises.

He removed his hands from you completely - the loss of contact turning the pleasure to a heavy, mournful ache - and tugged at the crumpled material around your waist. 

"Ellis," he growled. 

You gave in and climbed off him, the weight of your movements inciting a stifled groan in his chest. And in the time it took the boxers to fall to the ground, you were back on his lap, bare pussy grinding against the rough fabric of his trousers; buttons and open fly, the Y-shaped seam of his underwear and confined curve of his cock.

Was God here right now? Spying from the corner of the room like some omniscient voyeur? You'd never been one for exhibitionism. But there was a strange power that came with the thought of your naked body shrouded in a celestial gaze, deities forced to watch but unable to intervene. 

You felt Father Benedict shift a hand beneath you, shucking his trousers further down his hips and fisting at his underwear. His cock sprung free against your ass, firm and heavy as it settle along the groove between your cheeks. Your breath turned shallow at the mere thought of having him inside you, a deep shiver rippling through your core like a prophecy of that first thrust. 

You lifted yourself slightly, enough for him to reach down and grip the base of his cock, gliding the engorged head through the slick between your legs. He was eager, impatient - maybe he was scared of changing his mind too. 

"Are you sure about this?" you whispered, shivering as you felt him prodding against your entrance.  

His gaze darkened, like a crisp blue sky in the onset of a storm, and in one smooth, firm slide, he entered you. A sound poured out of you that you'd never heard yourself make before; shock, relief, pleasure, all at once. You marvelled at the stretching sensation, the way your body welcomed every inch of his cock with such ease, your inner walls flexing and moulding around the thick veins and hard ridges as it filled you to the very depths. 

His eyes clamped shut, the muscle in his jaw pulsating as he fought to maintain his composure. "I haven't been sure about anything since the moment I met you," he finally replied.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to the dimple at the corner of his mouth, trying to soothe the tension he was storing there. You draped your arms around his shoulders and let your chest fall against his, running your fingers through the back of his hair, the curls that fell over the nape of his neck. 

This was it. This was really happening. 

For the longest time you'd felt incomplete; a collection of empty spaces and uncharted lands, voids too deep and complex for anyone to explore, even you. But in the short time you'd known Father Benedict, he'd somehow managed to journey to the very centre of those places, laid down roots and watched them flourish, as swift and besieging as English ivy on fractured stone. Perhaps that was why this felt so right; because the hollows of your body were already his to pervade. 

He was bigger than Alfie; thicker, longer, the snug fit stealing the air from your lungs as you relaxed against him. No man had ever filled you this completely; flooding your pelvis with a warm, tense pressure before he'd even moved a muscle. You rolled your hips, testing the feel of him, and gasped quietly as electricity surged through your belly.  

A deep, husky groan dripped into your ear, long fingers and large palms skimming up your thighs and settling on your waist with a clawing grasp. His voice sent a chill across your skin, even the finest hairs bristling in response. 

"Ellis," he rumbled. "I'm really trying not to lose my composure." 

You kissed him softly, allowing another slow, controlled rotation. His voice rattled in the back of his throat, nails pressing half-moons into the dips of your waist. There was something charming in his restraint; how even in this moment, with his cock buried inside you, he was still trying to maintain his civility. 

You tightened your hold on his hair, deepening the connection until you were nothing but a blur of sweeping tongues and hot, heavy breaths. His body trembled beneath you as you gradually began to move, hips grinding and rotating to the rhythm of your kisses, punctuating each slide of his length with a soft, desperate whimper. 

A divine friction resonated in your core; his cock a rigid, firm stave, your pussy a soft, pliant sheath, moving together in both harmony and dissonance, like the trill of a choir. With every upstroke, your nipples grazed his open shirt, and when you bore down, an electric current hummed in your clit.  

"Fuck." The word stuck between your teeth before escaping in a sigh.

His hands caressed your back, the wide span of his fingers leaving no part of you untouched; squeezing, prodding, tickling, each stroke perfectly in tune with the motion of your hips. You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, the feeling of his collar against your cheek making you realise he hadn't undressed. Not really. You'd stripped bare for him, offered your unclad body like a tribute for him to bask in. You were a creature of desire, his Mary Magdalene, completely devoted to serve. 

You felt your thighs growing tired, sore and shaking, a heavy burn smouldering in your muscles. You relaxed your pace, dropping your full weight into his lap as you slowed your movements to a lazy grind. The new sensation made you moan softly against his skin, savouring the longer, deeper slides, the crown of his cock sinking right down to your soul.

His head fell back, a swallow thrumming down his throat. "My god," he groaned. 

A smile pulled at your cheeks, the lord's name in vain so delicious whenever it came from him. And this one was your fault; your body guiding him to commit sin after glorious sin. You placed a kiss on his neck, seizing a moment of boldness by taking the skin into your mouth and drawing a bruise to the surface.

You half expected him to push you away, chastise you for marking him in a place he'd struggle to hide. But instead you felt his arms flex around you, thighs tensing as he moved to plant his feet firmly on the ground. A jolt of spine-tingling pleasure burst through you as he thrust to meet the languid roll of your hips, turning what was supposed to be a smooth, relaxed gyration into a hard, forceful collision. Your mouth fell open, a dazed cry falling from your parted lips.  

He growled softly in response, his control waning. 

Your pussy tensed around his cock as he slammed into you again, every ridge and groove of your inner walls melding to embrace him. He brought a hand to your face, drawing you into another fevered, hungry kiss. You obliged obediently, as though you were his to use, a disciple eager to please.

You hummed and groaned against his lips with every pump of his cock, the couch creaking beneath the weight of your union, his hand welded to the back of your head, the other on your backside directing your movements. He was driving you towards completion, filling you with a heat and pressure that grew stronger with every stroke. The feeling continued to swell, expanding deep in your stomach until it was dancing along your nerves; setting you alight.

You'd gotten used to not finishing. Alfie's premature climaxes so normalised that you no longer even protested the stuttering hips and garbled moans. Men came. Sometimes you did too, usually alone with your fingers after they rolled off you and went to sleep. But even in the times you did orgasm, it never felt like this. 

Your entire body shuddered, cells exploding and stitching themselves back together again. There was a throbbing in your clit, an ache in your core, the brushing of his cock inside you so sensitive you could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain. 

He kept your head up with his hand, forcing you to look at him as you rode out every last wave, the aftershocks causing your walls to clench around his cock, coaxing him to his own release. He came soon after with a deep, guttural groan, sinking right down to the root as he flooded you with his seed. 

You sat breathless on his lap, still joined to him as he began to soften inside you, his eyes so dark it was like staring into the night sky. If this really was what damnation looked like, then you would happily burn for an eternity. 

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles

*If you would like to be tagged in the next chapter, please leave a comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the list here

[joequinnisgod]

When craving warmth

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x f!reader

Warnings: rpf, smut (protected p in v), teasing, i dunno what else..

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Hiii, it’s been a while………sorry about that :( But here’s a soft!dom!Joe story! I’m also working on other stories, hopefully I’ll be able to finish them soon..

It was late at night when you finally got into bed next to Joseph. Even though you told him not to wait for you, he insisted and tried his best to stay awake, but eventually tiredness got the best of him. He was half asleep when he felt the mattress dip next to him and felt you snuggling up next to him.

He hissed when you rested your cold fingers on his arm, trying to get warmed up as soon as possible.

"Your hands are freezing, love." He murmured as the took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers.

"M'sorry." You whispered and pressed your lips on the warm skin of his back. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't fully asleep yet."

Still craving warmth, you pressed your feet against his legs, causing him to jump a little.

"Jesus, what the fuck? You just took a shower, how are you so cold?"

"I don't know, I just am."

"...Want me to warm you up?" His voice instantly got deeper and you could sense he was smiling as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. You murmured against his back, too tired to even speak. "Hm?"

"I won't move a muscle, though." You repeated.

"So just the usual, eh?" He teased. You slapped his back lightly at his comment, making him giggle.

"Shut up." You smiled.

"C'mon baby, let's get you warm." He turned around to face you. "Hi." He lowered his head with a smile to kiss you. You felt his warm lips softly press against yours, just slowly tasting them first. You laid on your back and let him hover over you, a satisfied hum escaping his throat.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, making you part your lips. The kiss was slow and sensual, neither of you feeling the need to hurry. After such a draining day, the only thing you needed was intimacy and the presence of your favourite person, in spite of the aching tiredness in your body.

He held himself up above you with his lower arm next to your head, his free hand caressing your side. Your hands found his cheeks in the dark – only the outside lights peeked through the window, softly illuminating the room – and your thumbs softly stroke his face, feeling the scratchiness of his beard. As you spread your legs and pulled them up to help him get more comfortable, his fingers started dancing on your skin where your shirt has ridden up a bit around your lower stomach, the ticklish sensation leaving goosebumps behind. Eventually, his lips detached from yours, making you whine, but you soon quieted down when you felt them on the side of your neck, travelling further and further down. Your fingers got lost in his curls on the back of his head as your neediness got the best of you; making your wrap your legs around his hips, locking him right above you.

"Don't, I'm cold." You stopped his hands as they were about to take your shirt off.

"Okay, baby. We'll leave it on." He placed a quick kiss on your lips. "Can I take these off, though?" His fingers traced the outline of your underwear. You nodded first – then realised he could barely see the movement of your head in the darkness.

"Mm-hmm."

He started sliding your panties down your legs slowly, his lips following the path of it. When you felt his hot breath fanning over your clit, you interrupted him again.

"No, just want you in me. Please, I just wanna feel you close." Your tone dripping in desperation.

"Alright, but I'm definitely having you for breakfast, though." He pressed a gentle kiss below your lower stomach.

His lips met your neck once again, going for that sensitive spot, making you whimper in impatience. He supported himself with his forearm sunk into the mattress next to your head as his free hand pushed his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself. He reached beside you, towards the nightstand's top drawer and grabbed a condom from it. Sitting back on his heels he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the rubber down his length. After stroking himself a few times, he decided to test the waters and tease you a little. The unexpected soft tapping of his cock on your clit made you gasp at first – then you couldn't stop the whimper that desperately tried to escape your lips.

You realised what was about to go down. Your begging and needy whines were sounds that Joe could easily get off on anytime; they boosted his ego to an unreal level. Knowing you were so desperate for his touch and attention made him feel like he was on cloud nine. As his ego got the best of him, dominance started flooding his mind. He started feeling the urge to tease you..just a little.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"Joe..oh" Another gasp left your lips as he rubbed himself between your lips. "I know..I know what you're..doing...please."

Your tone only fuelled that feeling in him. He wanted to hear and see you become a needy hot mess underneath him.

"What am I doing, darling? I’m not doin' anything." He murmured with his lips right next to your ear.

"You're te-teasing. I can't..take it tonight."

"I think you can. Be a good girl for me, hm?"

Your hands grabbed the sheets as his lips traced the side of your neck, placing there wet kisses. "Think you can do that for me?"

"I, uh...I don't know."

"Let's just see it for ourselves, okay? Tell me if it's too much." He kissed your cheek.

He stopped rubbing himself on your pussy and you felt him slide his tip down to your entrance. He slowly pushed his tip in barely, then pulled it out. Each time he pushed himself in, it was just a tad deeper than before, making you turn into that hot, whining mess he loves so much.

"Is this okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"See? It's not so hard." His hand came up to your cheek to hold your face, his thumb stroking your warm skin.

When he was finally all the way inside you, he let out a soft moan. His hips started rocking slowly at first, then he picked up the pace a little. He pulled almost all the way out each time, before going back in as deep as he could. He wanted both of you to feel every inch of each other. Your desperate moans sounded almost too pathetic, the way he fucked you so passionately and so good was becoming overwhelming.

"You're doing so good for me, doll. So fucking good." His voice almost failed him from the intensity of your hips colliding and the feeling of intimacy and closeness; your hands on his back now – keeping him close, your nails leaving deep, red marks on his slightly sweaty skin.

"Don't you break character now." You whispered, the built up frustration from the teasing giving you an attitude – also hoping this would fire Joseph up even more. When he realised what you'd said to him, he snapped his hips hard, making you moan loudly and arch your back a tad.

"Wanna repeat that, love? Hm? Don't be so shy now." He waited if you were gonna say anything, but your silence was enough for him. "That's what I thought."

His hips started driving into you faster as his hand found your clit. The force of his thrusts made you ride up on the bed with each one as your strangled moans echoed across the room.

"Shh, it's okay, it’s okay. Let it out, baby." His lips showered your cheek with kisses, shooting you.

"I’m close.." You chocked out, hoping he'll understand.

"You wanna cum, darling?"

"Mm-hmm." You nodded, tears forming in you eyes from the overwhelming intensity. "Please, Joseph."

"Cum for me, baby." He whispered in your ear. A few moments later your back arched as you dug your nails into his back, letting out a loud, sinful moan with a few tears escaping your eyes as you shut them tight. You felt Joe's hips halt for a second balls deep inside you as a heavy moan erupted from him, euphoria flooding his mind as well.

"Oh, fuck! Baby, I love you so much."

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, pressing there hot kisses in-between heavy breaths. Your hands got lost between his curls again as you both laid there in the silent, dimly lit room.

"Are you warm now?" Joe giggled.

"I am." A couple seconds later you slapped his back.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"For the teasing."

"You loved it, don't conceal it." He grinned as he pressed his lips onto yours.

"But..it was mean." You pouted and watched him remove the used condom, tie a knot on it and toss it into the bin next to the nightstand.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to be mean. I won't do it next time, yeah?" His big brown eyes stared into yours, his eyebrows arched.

"You'll do it next time, too." You squinted.

"Yeah..probably." He whispered as he kissed you and rolled over with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Have a lovely day / night <3

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Prompt || Bucky and Reader getting sick at the same time. — Requested by @raqnarokr <3

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 600

Contents & Warnings || Mild Angst — Bucky and Reader being kind of mean to each other.

Random prompt event || Masterlist

Usually, when either Bucky or you were sick, the other would be all healthy and good to take care of the other—making warm and delicious soup, giving the best snugs and cuddles. And just overall, be the most fantastic caretaker that would, to the best of their abilities, nurse them back to health.

But this time was the first where you and he were sick simultaneously as you'd both come down with a nasty cold. It proved to be quite challenging and annoying for both of you to be sick as you and he would, most of the time, have different needs for how to stay comfortable and for taking care of your symptoms. And you would snap at each other constantly.

—

Despite the thick fluffy sweater you were wearing while bundled up in a blanket on the sofa and cuddling close and tight to your sick boyfriend, you still shivered profusely and desperately clung to everything for that little bit of extra warmth. And Bucky was starting to complain that he was burning up.

“Doll, I feel like I'm in a furnace and dying,” he whined in a hoarse voice as he pushed himself away from you with his weak strength to sit on the opposite side of the sofa.

“No, please don't leave me,” you uttered weakly, “I'm so cold.”

“I can't. Just let me be. I'm so hot,” he said rather annoyingly as he situated himself on the other end and took off his warm sweater.

Luckily, Alpine jumped up to you and snuggled with you instead in the bundle of warmth while your grumpy boyfriend sat all cold and alone.

—

Bucky was coughing and sneezing like crazy for the last hour, and with the raging headache you were having, each noise from him was like an extra aching punch straight to your head.

“... ugh why is this happening to me?” Bucky whined after a violent coughing fit, and not a second later, he went straight on to have a sneezing fit.

You were absolutely losing it, almost at the brink of tears due to how in pain and uncomfortable you were. And since you had no energy to move, you had to endure Bucky's fits, but now, you've honestly had enough of it.

“Can you please just shut up, Bucky! My head's killing me! Please, can you just be a little bit quiet and more considerate,” you sobbed.

“I'm sorry, doll, but what do you want me to do? It's not like I can help it!” He uttered before he continued with his fits.

Taking one of the decorative pillows, you clamped it around your head and over your ears to block out his sounds.

—

After a week, you and Bucky were starting to feel much better and return to your true selves. And you both acknowledge that you'd been quite mean to one another while sick.

So after you both had a refreshing and much-needed shower, you apologized to each other.

“Bucky, I'm so sorry that I was so mean to you and yelled when you were having your fits,” you said while getting ready for bed, “I hope you know I didn't mean any of it. I love you.”

“Hey.” He made you stop what you were doing and turned you around to face him, palms cradling your cheeks. “It's ok, doll. We were both sick and not ourselves. I love you as well, and I'm sorry for leaving you all alone when you needed me the most.”

“It's ok,” you replied as you stood on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, your noses brushing, “let's just try and not get sick at the same time again, ok? It was not fun.”

“Definitely not,” he chuckled as he pressed a long and loving kiss to your lips, a sensation you’d both missed and craved for the past week while you were both sick.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[slasherberry-shortcake]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You Mean The World⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ (RZ Michael x GN! Reader)

Hi all :]

This is the first fic that I'm uploading on Tumblr! It's kind of self-indulgent, as I personally absolutely love RZ Michael, but y'know, I'm also doing it for you guys! Let's get into it, loves~ (written in 2nd person)

NOT PROOFREAD AND FEM DNI PLEASE

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

It was a cold night, one that you hadn't felt in a while. You stayed cozy in your home, your large boyfriend curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. You'd attempted to cover the man with a blanket earlier, but to no avail, as the fabric ended up slipping off of his body. You felt his comfortable aura warm you, your gleaming eyes staring softly at the one whom you loved. You longed to run to him where he lay, kiss all over to wake him up. To spend time with him, the time you so desperately craved. Your love was pure, and you felt so complete just staring at him. His chest rose and fell, the deep sound of his sleeping breath lulling you deeper into the sense of love you knew so well. Hesitantly, you stood, silently sweeping to the armrest of the couch, falling gently to your knees to play with the man's tangled and curled hair. As you lay your delicate fingers within his locks, he stirs, a deep exhale snapping you back to your senses, ripping you back from the rose-colored world you found yourself lost in, again and again. He tilted his head upwards to gaze at you, him being slightly annoyed by the rude interruption of his slumber.

You lifted yourself from the floor, laying a gentle and sweet kiss on his sweaty forehead, "Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?" He grunted gruffly in response, watching groggily as you wiped the salt from your lips.

"You're dirty," you whispered, watching the sweat that dripped down his throat turn a muddy brown from the dirt that clung to his skin, "You should shower, I can help."

These offers were common, your love inspiring you to tend to the needs of your lover, wanting to keep him in the perfect condition for when he rests at home. Sure, dirt covers the scent of a clean soap here and there, but this wasn't a hunt. This was your quality time, the time you loved to keep him all to yourself. You often request to bathe him, as you love watching the way the steam relaxes the tall man, the way his tension and high walls crumble down to your soft touch.

He glanced at you, a playfully offended look hidden in his eye. He knew what you had meant by the comment, but he liked to tease you. He liked watching you squirm, watching you scramble and gulp. He did it out of love, of course, he could never actually be offended or hurt by you. You both cared for each other too much for that to happen. HE sat up, his sitting figure even towering over you. He nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

You helped him undress and sink into the steaming bath water, your eyes drifting to his pectorals. You never used this as an excuse to peek at his body, well...not usually, but today was different. You wanted to soak in his features, feel the warmth in your cheeks grow as his large hands brace himself on the edges of the tub, a deep and low growl exiting his chapped lips. You blushed slightly, planning to excuse it as the steam if Michael questioned it. You smiled and got the body wash, saying in a soft tone, "Ready, Mikey?"

The man nodded, watching you lather the loofa that you had bought specially for him. Your hands moved sluggishly, twitching as you reached his chest. He exhaled at your touch, his form slumping in pleasure. You worked his chest with the soap, fingers helping to scrub at the man's fuzzy chest. Your nails created a lovely friction upon his skin, causing another exhale and more slumping. You were better than he remembered.

After finishing his body, you moved to his hair, scratching his scalp lovingly as you shampooed his dirty blonde hair. His body was as submerged as possible for a man of his stature, his head almost lulling into the now soapy and dirty water. He breathed in and out, his chest shaking with every pleasurable scratch you gave to the soft skin of his scalp. You rinsed the bubbles away, squeezing out the water from his hair. You stood from your position, waiting for him to stand and exit the tub. You held your hand out, giving him something to grasp though you didn't help him all that much (he certainly appreciated it regardless). He stepped onto the bath mat, a habit you wish he would not be used to. You always asked him to dry himself first, but he always seemed to forget. You held up the towel to him, kissing the hand that gently stole the cloth away from your grasp. He dried himself off on the bath mat, water splashing onto the tiled flooring, causing you to giggle softly.

After Michael was dry, you handed him the pajamas you'd picked to give him, the soft fabric guaranteed to keep him warm tonight. "Was that a good bath, angel?" you asked him, your eyes half-lidded as he dressed himself. He glanced at you, nodding his head slowly. You knew he was sincere with the slower nods he gave, and the low grunts and groans he'd slip in from time to time. It was adorable that you memorized his tells, it made you feel proud of yourself and your ability to read the man like a book.

After he dressed, you grabbed his hand, practically dragging him back out to the couch in front of the stone hearth. You snuggled into his side, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap that clung to his now-cleansed body. His big arm draped around your smaller shoulders, a soft kiss placed on your scalp soon afterward. The sweet aroma and the warmth of his body and the fire lulling you to sleep.

"I love you, Michael," you whispered, falling asleep nestled into his side, "I love you. so much."

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Summary: In an alternate universe where Simon Petrikov turned into a vampire before the mushroom war, things swiftly turn bad. Even Betty had limits, but she did her best to help him.

As the end of the world approaches, Simon is now caring for young Marceline.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Swearing

One fucking drop of human blood on his tongue and now he can’t drink animal blood anymore. It has been a struggle returning to the animal blood that he had always used. It’s so cold… disgusting… it makes him feel weak and gross. But he has to go back to it though.

If only he wouldn't throw it up every time he drinks it.

He has spent some quality time kneeled over the porcelain bowl of a toilet as he violently throws up all of the contents of his stomach. And God, he was exhausted.

It sucks, but he can't get used to human blood. Won’t get used to it. But he needed blood that actually satisfies him.

Human blood.

No. 

He needs to stick with animal blood, even if he wants something else.

He got up and slapped water on his face and then stared into his own eyes. Those cold, black eyes. They revealed no emotion, just like always. Was he a monster? Betty always tell him that he isn't.

He gripped his head, and suddenly everything became to bright and too loud and too much. The rushing water, it was like it was in his ears, in his brain. The hunger pangs are resounding through his stomach. Then he gripped the brim of the sink, focusing on his thoughts and he closed his eyes. He felt her scent of blood as she entered the room. He opend his eyes and glanced at his reflection, and there she was, staring back at him.

"The bathroom looks like a crime scene."

"I know" he scoffed

"You're unwell." She pointed out

And at that he didn't respond.

She sighed and went closer to him and he stiffened immediately "Let me help you Simon."

"No. You're not helping me like this."

“We both know you need human blood. Just this one time and when—“ Simon interrupted her “I said no.”

“What if you lose control when you’re having a interview or a seminar?” Betty asked trying to reach out to him but he stepped back “I won’t.”

“You—can’t be sure.”

“And if I drink from you, you really think you’re going to be fine afterwards? I can’t do this to you Betty. I can’t hurt you.”

“And I don’t care Simon, you need it.”

Simon's internal struggle was tearing him apart. He knew that he shouldn't drink blood from Betty, but the relentless craving had driven him to the brink. He desperately wanted it, craved the warmth of her blood coursing through his veins.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" His voice was laced thick with worry and desire.

She was nestled comfortably under him on his bed, his form encompassing her and she was stroking his black hair.

"I told you, I want to help you. I thought I've made it clear I'm not scared of you." Betty replied defiantly.

"You should be." His voice rumbled deep in his throat.

Betty looked up into his eyes. They were different, more predatory.

He didn't meet her gaze.

"If I gain a taste for your blood, do not let me feed from you whenever the desire takes hold. Please."

"I promise." Betty smiled tenderly, bringing her hand up to delicately frame his face.

He closed his eyes, and leaned into her hand slightly. After a moment he opened his eyes and licked his lips. "This will hurt Betty, but I will try to be quick about it."

He leaned down, hovering over her exposed neck, his hot breath tickling her skin. Betty wrapped her arms around him, and closed her eyes. Suddenly, his fangs pierced her flesh, digging in deep. She gasped in pain and tightened her grip on his shirt. Simon cupped his hand under her head in reassurance. She exhaled as the pain settled in and let herself relax into Simon's embrace.

He really was trying to be gentle... but Betty's blood was so sweet... he forced himself to drink it slowly, tasting every drop thoroughly. Betty's breath came in short, enticing gasps. It made his heart tighten with desire. He wanted her, all of her, to be his.

She could feel how tenderly he was treating her, comforting her with soft squeezes every time she gasped but it still hurted like hell. He had it under control, but it still leaked through in his eyes.

His hunger soon satiated and he felt amazing.

Betty gasped as Simon's fangs suddenly slid out of her. He licked at the wound, catching stray droplets of blood with his tongue and cleaning it. He sat up then, his face flushed and his lips covered in her blood. He was panting, his eyes half-lidded. She tried to stay still, unsure of what to do as she tried not to cry anymore. His eyes widened suddenly and he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand as if in shame. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. He wiped his mouth, her blood staining the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry." He broke the silence.

He turned his head to look at her. He shouldn't have agreed to this.

"Betty, darling," he uttered gently. She started hiccuping, shoulders rocking back and forth. Simon encouraged her to control her breathing. She held onto him as if for dear life.

He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. New ones came quickly to replace them. A dull heartache weighed heavy in his chest.

"My love," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't." he choked on his words.

"No." She shook her head "Don't say that. I helped you. That's important."

"No, I promise you I won't do this again. I promise you." he took ahold of her hands

"I would let you bite me again in a heartbeat." her cries were beginning to settle "I would do anything for you, no matter the cost." he frowned at her.

He gently pressed his forehead onto hers, and both of them closed their eyes. "You're too good for me"

He suddenly woke up from a dream, one that had haunted him for months. It was the same dream, the one where he had bitten Betty for the first time. It was like he could still feel the sweet taste of her blood, even if it was just a dream.

“Fuck," Simon muttered under his breath, his hand trembling as he touched his forehead. His heart always ached after dreaming of Betty or just thinking of her. The guilt of what he had become, what he had done to her, weighed heavily on his soul.

He glanced over at Marceline, relieved to see that she was still peacefully sleeping. His little Marcy. She was the one bright spot in his dark existence, the reason he held on to his humanity.

They have been together for just 2 months, but she had already captured his whole heart. She was too precious for this fucked up world. They had recently taken refuge in an abandoned building, the tattered remnants of a world that had once been so vibrant. Simon had draped his familiar black cloak over Marceline, creating a makeshift bed for her, while he sat nearby, keeping a watchful eye over their sanctuary. The room was filled with a haunting silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Marceline's peaceful sleep. Simon had grown used to the quiet of this new world, but his thoughts were never silent, always plagued by memories and regrets.

Simon sighed deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The memories of Betty were a double-edged sword, a reminder of the love he had lost and the monster he had become. He wished he could forget, but he couldn't escape the past.

Gently, he adjusted his cloak, making sure Marceline was still covered, before settling back into his vigil. He couldn't change the past, but he could protect the future, and that meant keeping Marceline safe from the darkness that had consumed him and the world.

Notes: I’m trying to make this a series but we’ll see how this will go.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[satuguro]

Hi! I would love valkyrie!reader x xavier head cannons on one or both secretly wanting to cuddle post hookup and how they’d get the other to do it. Love your writing 💜

✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH HEAD CANNONS

[ INTERLUDE I: TO STAY OR TO GO ]

xavier x valkyrie! reader

#CONTAINS— fluff, suggestive themes

#AUTHORSNOTE— i listened to bags by clairo while writing this. part 5 for tongues & teeth is in progress but i'm writing this as a break! thank you sm for requesting, i hope i did your request justice xx

— both of you are far too stubborn and prideful to admit that you want the other to stay.

— the first time it ever happened, it was an accident and it was xavier's fault (though he constantly argues that it was you)

you woke up to the familiar sunlight in your eyes, the warmth hitting your skin as the rays shone through xavier's window.

there was a soft pressure around your waist that kept you in bed, and you frowned as your hands went down to gently meet xavier's arms. he was holding you in his arms, his face buried into your neck as he breathed gently. his skin was so cold — even after the night you two had, but you guessed that he found comfort in the heat your body constantly radiated.

you sighed as you reluctantly pulled his hands off of you.

— to say that xavier was disappointed would be an understatement. he def. acted petty for the rest of the week because of it, listening to you constantly ask him why he was so bothered.

— he wanted you in his arms. that was why he was bothered.

— but at one point in your little friends with benefits arrangement, you find yourself being the one to stop him from leaving.

— it definitely happens when you're trying to figure out how you feel about him.

you chest heaved under the covers, your eyes set on the ceiling as you silently thanked the gods that wednesday, enid, and thing were out.

the sound of moving sheets made you turn to his side of the bed, your arm coming up to push half of your body up. your heart thumped in your chest when you saw xavier's back, adorned with scratches that normally you would tease him for, but the fact that he was leaving so soon made you search desperately for words to say.

"where are you going?" you managed out, and xavier turned back to look at you, a lopsided smile on his lips.

you liked it when he gave you that smile, the one that was downturned but still a smile nonetheless.

"are you gonna miss me?" he asked teasingly, and you felt your face burn with embarrassment as you shook your head no. xavier chuckled as he took his phone to quickly check if ajax had texted him.

but he felt your hand hold his upper arm, stopping him from standing up and reaching for his clothes.

you didn't say a word, your heart beating loudly in your ears as he turned back at you with a confused look. you only swallowed thickly, squeezing his arm once in a silent plea. his gaze softened in realization.

— xavier knew that you weren't good with words, and you knew that he wasn't any better at them either. but he realized that you were becoming more open to him staying after your hookups.

— i'd say that you craving his touch beyond something sexual made your relationship with him shift into something more complicated. but we're saving that for the actual series :)

— when xavier cuddles you he kisses over the marks he left behind.

— when you cuddle xavier you let your fingertips run over his back gently. your touch is almost featherlight, and you've mapped out the most sensitive areas that make him sigh into his pillow.

— you never said a word when you wanted him to stay. you always nudged him or squeezed his hand, or just stopped him from leaving. for xavier, he always murmured a small, 'lay here with me,' that always brought you back under the covers.

you slid off of him, catching your breath as you let your face hit the pillow. but you moved your head to peak at where he laid, face falling slightly when you saw him pulling his shirt over his head.

you reached out to take one of his hands, your thumb brushing over his knuckles ever so gently. for someone so well accustomed to war, you touched him as though you were scared you would ever hurt him.

you sat up in your bed, moving behind him and gently moving his hair out of your way. you set your chin on his shoulder, your front pressed up against his back. "please, stay," you murmured into his skin, and xavier swore that he always would.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

P is for -- Preston Garvey

🥺 Just... sweet, lovely Preston. I'm so so glad he won. I often say that the winners deserved it, but Preston DESERVED it, you know? I love him, I love y'all for voting for him, I hope you sincerely enjoy this ❤️

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

--

Pair: Preston Garvey x g/n! Sole

Dialogue: “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Word: Prolong

Rating: SFW

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 800

“Psst.” Preston knocked softly at Sole’s bedroom door. "Uh, you're in there, right, babe?"

His heart was in his throat, after all that had happened, all that they’d told him when they returned from the Institute. Preston just remembered being beyond grateful that they’d come back to him at all, that they were alive and safe, and he’d told them just as much. 

But they... they hadn’t agreed with him, and damn, but that killed him. 

“Sole?” Preston tried again, his voice still weak from disuse. 

All the patrols over the past two days, that’s… all he’d done. Even Sturges hadn’t heard his voice. No meetings, no missions, no small talk with settlers, barely any contact with anyone at all. No… All Preston had room for right now was the worry in his heart for his partner. His general, his love, god, his life now… and they were hurting, beyond anything they’d ever shown on the surface before, and instead of craving his help, falling into his arms or crying on his shoulder, they’d just… shut him out.

Was that… normal? Was it okay? Should he press them in order to help, or give them space and let them come to him? 

Preston had always, always come to Sole in his times of uncertainty, of desperation and depression, seeking words and touches of comfort, their advice, their warmth. 

If Sole didn’t do the same, well… What was he supposed to make of that? Was he doing something wrong, or was it just the way that his partner chose to cope with their own hardships and emotions? On their own… it was hard for the minuteman to stomach it. 

“Come in.” 

The monotone words jarred Preston back to reality, and he damn near charged into the room at the sound of their permission being granted to him. 

“Hey, Sole.” His voice was softer, higher-pitched than usual, like if he spoke any other way it would just break them into pieces. “I… just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Preston closed the door behind him, and approached slowly, then kneeled beside his partner where they were seated on their bed. 

Sole looked… well enough, he supposed. Perhaps a bit disheveled, with the dark circles under their eyes and their hair unusually gnarled, but Preston tried to bar himself from becoming too outwardly worried about them. Still though, he wasn’t quite sure how to approach… Or what to say.

Tell me how to help you, love, and I'll do it.

“Okay?” Sole croaked, and already, he felt ashamed at his wording. 

Of course they’re not okay, not after everything they’ve been through. How could I have--? Ugh…

Preston grimaced at their reaction. 

They must be better at this than I am. 

No wonder they preferred being alone to this.

“Not really."

He was relieved when they continued, until what they'd actually said hit him.

"But… I think I’ll make it...”

Preston felt a painful pang ring throughout his chest at their words. Though they held hope to them, Sole's voice didn't quite reflect it.

“Look, Preston…” 

He held his breath, hearing his own heart pounding in his ears as they trailed off forebodingly. 

“I’m sorry.” Sole said with a deep exhale. “I know I’ve been shutting you out, and maybe… I know it’s not fair to you, that you want to help, but… I just don’t know if that’s even possible.”

Another agonizing ache squeezed at his heart, and Preston tentatively rose to sit upon the bed next to his partner. Sole made no move to stop him, and so he set his hand over theirs on the mattress, his warmth passing into their own cold hand through his caress. 

“Well, with your permission, sir/ma'am, I’d like to try.” 

Sole’s vibrant eyes, now seeming more monochrome, more dull than he’d ever remembered seeing them before, set upon him as their brows raised in question. 

“Even if it’s impossible, like you said... you’re worth trying. More than worth it, actually.” Preston tried to smile at them, but he was afraid his worry continued to show through. No matter what expression he tried though, he was certain that’d be the case. 

“Thanks.” Sole whispered it so low, it could hardly be deemed a breath. But still, Preston heard it. 

“C-can I… Can I hug you?” He asked, even as he unwittingly scooched closer to them on the bed. 

“I think I’d like that.” Sole said, the barest, thinnest hint of a smile shining through their expression as they half-heartedly opened their arms to him.

It was incredible, Preston couldn’t help but think, the way their hugs healed him. The way Sole’s touches bled comfort straight into his body, their hand in his felt like a bond strong enough to hold the two halves of the world together, his head on their shoulder made it seem like he could withstand just about anything, like this world of theirs' was… manageable, even with all of its faults, its violence, its tragedy. 

He wished the feeling could last him-- them both-- forever.

And Preston hoped that even half of what Sole's comfort did for him was shining through in this one tight embrace. If it did, then maybe, just maybe, it truly was possible for his partner to be okay again. 

[yanderes-galore]

HI I HAVE A CRINGEFAIL REQUEST FOR A CONCEPT OF MY CRINGEFAIL MAN CRONOS

i feel like he’d be totally delusional, that man has not had a single clever thought in his LIFE

Orderly Anon [💉]

Oh you have no idea... I'd love to try out a proper concept for him! Hope this was long enough?

Yandere! Cronus Ampora Concept

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overly flirtatious behavior, Delusional behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Brief threats of self harm mention (Cronus being Cronus), Kidnapping, Isolation, Clingy, Forced relationship.

Cronus has been rejected so many times by others I'm not surprised he'd lose it after awhile.

By the time Cronus meets you he could care less if you're a human or a troll.

He just wants someone in a quadrant to love him already.

However, while most trolls are used to a fellow troll partner, Cronus may feel better with a human darling.

That's due to the whole seeing himself as a human aspect he has.

Cronus is a very demanding yandere.

He's needy and does just about anything and everything to get the attention of you.

Cronus would even resort to emotional manipulation to either win you over or make you stay with him. (Threats of self-harm or anything like that-)

Cronus is desperate and demanding.

He'd stalk you and hound you just to have your attention.

He's a hopeless flirt, constantly complimenting and flirting with you to win you over.

He lays the flattery on thick.

He even tries to compose songs for you in hopes of impressing you.

He can be rude and overall a bad person yet tries to play it cool and be caring with you.

He is such a suck up if it means you'll love him.

He's more likely to go for Matespritship yet will honestly take anything.

I imagine Cronus is used to feeling envious so he primarily gets really childish when jealous.

Honestly if you ever did give him a chance he'd probably be easy to control.

Just dangle the fact you'll leave him and he behaves.

Honestly, since he messes with your emotions, do it back and he's humbled.

While he's easy to control in a mutual relationship, I can't say the same if you drive him over the edge.

For the most part Cronus will follow you around like a pathetic puppy.

He's... sad to look at sometimes.

He's used to rejections and envy so he's a bit more patient than you think.

Although the moment that patience falters he can be a bit volatile.

He'll throw a bit of a fit, complaining and yelling about how hard he has it.

He so bad just wants you to love him.

At this point he feels he actually needs it.

He'd be a yandere to eventually just kidnap you if he feels he could lose his chance.

In his eyes you are his last chance of being loved.

No one else likes him so he is really desperate to have you.

If Cronus snapped he would isolate you in a room away from anyone else.

After all, if he isn't going to have you willingly, then he might as well take what he wants!

He's waited long enough, hasn't he?

Cronus does not seem like a violent yandere.

He's dramatic and emotional, he's more likely just to be an annoyance if he hates someone around you.

Can't see him killing anyone.

Be it you joined him in a quadrant willingly or not, Cronus is physically affectionate.

I like the HC people have that violet and/or fuchsia bloods feel cold to the touch due to being aquatic.

Cronus certainly craves your warmth and feels cold when he gives physical affection.

He has a poor sense of personal space so he is very clingy.

Cronus may slightly be a worship yandere, as I said before he'll do anything to appeal to you.

He is incredibly delusional.

Even if he has you locked away where only he can see you, he still thinks there's a chance you'll love him willingly.

He feels somehow you hold romantic feelings for him and is going to fish them out somehow.

He thinks that he's the only one for you.

He isn't really a giving yandere.

For the most part he takes.

He takes affection, attention, warmth, etc....

However he also intends to try to make you happy as his partner to keep you.

Cronus feels like he'd be an entitled yandere due to his demanding traits.

He feels you're his and is willing to take what he feels is his.

He may say blood color doesn't matter but he's still just as entitled as any violet blood.

Overall the primary traits of Cronus is the fact he's demanding, dramatic, clingy, flirtatious, lacks boundaries, delusional, and is very desperate.

He can possibly be controlled if you agree to being his partner.

He will take time to snap, but when he does, he comes in full force.

Cronus is willing to play nice with his darling if they are willing to go along with it.

The moment he realizes he isn't getting anywhere with you, however...

Well... then he's done playing nice, isn't he? It's about time he gets what he wants.

[blitzwhore]

looking at 24/43 👀

Thanks for the prompts! :)

24. “we’ll face this together” kisses / 43. “we’ll get through this” kisses

Stolitz | ~690 words | Teen and Up | Angst, pining, self-hatred, mental health issues, character study, crying, alternating/mirrored POV

On AO3

Long, black, slender fingers curling around wrinkled bed sheets, and tears streaming down soft feathers.

Shaky, scarred hands pulling up a blanket to hide from the world—tears running down smooth cheeks.

“I'm scared, Blitz.” “I'm scared, Stolas.”

Murmured, muffled against a pillow.

“I know.” “I know.”

And the ghost sensation of fingers wiping away tears.

“She wants to take everything away. She wants to take Octavia away. She won't stop until I'm dead.”

“I can't stop hurting the people I love most. I feel like I was born doomed. No matter what I do, I'm going to die alone.”

“Shhh…”

“Shh, shh, it's okay.”

“I'm here, Stolas. I won't let her hurt you again.”

“I'm here, Blitzø. I'm not going anywhere.”

The comfort only makes Stolas cry harder, curling closer to Blitz. Desperately craving the physical closeness; needing to be taken care of. Feeling like, maybe, all this pain is worth it if it means he can have Blitz's affection.

It's so hard to believe that Stolas means it—that he won't leave. Blitzø can't help the sobs that escape him. He doesn't deserve this, but he wants it. Hell, he craves this so badly it feels like it might kill him.

“No matter what comes. We'll face this together, okay?” Blitz murmurs, kissing Stolas’ forehead delicately. Stolas nods through the tears, burrowing closer to his chest. Blitz's warmth permeates his body, sinking deep into him, and, for the first time in who knows how long, Stolas feels safe. Feels wanted, and cared for, and cherished.

“I know you're scared, Blitzø. But you won't scare me away. And if ever you feel afraid again, I'll be here.” There's a soft kiss pressed to his temple, and then Stolas says, “We'll get through this together, as many times as it takes.” The hope that Stolas’ words awaken in him is terrifying, but Blitzø can't help but cling to it, desperate to believe it's true.

If only this was real… Oh, if only it was real.

Inevitably, the warmth against his chest fades, leaving Stolas curled up around nothing. Nothing but cold bedsheets and the imagined presence of someone who isn't here to comfort him, or to cradle him gently and envelop him in warmth; someone who, perhaps, never will.

He isn't really here, of course. Why would he be? To listen to Blitzø bitch and moan about his stupid issues? He scoffs. He's only torturing himself by imagining that Stolas could ever care about someone like him.

His bed is too big, too empty. The vast, hollow loneliness that engulfs him threatens to suffocate him. It makes Stolas feel small—insignificant—invisible. He's screaming, but nobody listens. Nobody cares.

He's curled up on the shitty couch he calls a bed—all alone in the darkness of his and Loona's flat. No one to witness his pitiful display of self-loathing. And still, somehow, Blitzø feels like he's taking up more space than he deserves. Like, maybe, Hell would be a better place if he just wasn't here at all.

He can't breathe.

He aches.

Drowning—sinking deeper and deeper into sorrow and despair.

Not knowing how to stop feeling so wrong inside—so useless and broken beyond repair.

Aching for a life past appearances and duties; past the facade of a fabricated smile.

Hoping he could start over and turn his life around. Make amends. Soften his rough edges, and not be so terrified to let his walls down.

Yearning for something, anything he can hold onto. A version of himself that feels genuine and free.

A life where he hasn't fucked up everyone who's made the mistake of getting close to him.

A life where he can laugh, and have sex, and cuddle, and be silly. Where he can be spontaneous, adventurous, real.

A life where he's worth something. Where he's worth keeping around.

A life that is vibrant and fulfilling.

A life that feels safe.

… A life with Blitz.

A life with Loona, and Moxxie, and Millie, and Fizz, and…

… And Stolas.

A life he fears he might never have.

A life he knows he will never deserve.

[whatevertheweather]

Hello, salutations, happy Wednesday. I've been thinking I want to share something, but I don't know what to share, so I'm going to share a little of everything. Every WIP I have. Six snippets. Roughly in order of how much I've been working on them. Here we go.

One:

Baz had thought of Simon as someone who would indulge in any available vice, but it turns out there are only a few, very particular vices he cares about, and the rest is anyone else’s problem. “I don’t need much,” he said, which is an extremely relative statement at best and a reckless conflation of ‘much’ with ‘many different things’ at worst. He had, in his own words, half a drinking problem for a bit, and he’s never much interested when there’s alcohol on the literal or metaphorical table, but they did get high together the other night. (“Drink is to numb the bad. Weed is to augment the good.”) Simon had brought them up to the roof of Baz’s building because he wanted to look at the moon. They laid down under a sky of sullen grey clouds turned sickly by the city lights, and Baz said, “Where is it?” and Simon shrugged, and then he found them a blunt to smoke instead. They passed it back and forth until Simon told him he wanted to eat the stars, and Baz asked why. Simon said he thought it would feel good. Baz laughed until Simon shut him up with a hand over his mouth and tried to explain that it would be a power trip, that you’d never feel more pure and full than having a star in your belly. Baz told him you would never feel more dead, and Simon threatened to make him dead, and the moon never showed her face, but it was rather a lovely night anyway.

Two:

“What?” Baz says, and Simon’s eyes snap up to his. “Nothing, just, you—” What? You have a nice throat? “—you have a bit of fluff,” he mumbles, and he reaches out to brush the lie off of his neck. It was a bad idea, because now his fingertips are on Baz’s skin, and he’s cool to the touch, he’s softer than Simon expected, and it’s right there, all he wants to do is trace a finger over the shape of his Adam’s apple, down to the hollow of his throat. His collarbones, too, they’ve a nice slope to them. Gentle, smooth. His shirt’s open a bit (his shirt’s always open a bit), and his chest hair peeks out of it. He’s got more than Simon. Simon would get his fingers into that, too, rub his thumb over his chest, push his palm flat over his heart. “Surely you’ve gotten it by now.”

Three:

Simon’s curiosity was losing the fight, honestly. On the whole, he was just so very glad Agatha had whatever weird baggage this was so that Simon had the chance to fix what fate had boggled by not sending him to the same school to room with Baz. (And look at Baz. And talk to Baz. And maybe get under Baz.) (Definitely get under Baz.) (He’d have found an excuse to manage it at school, one way or another.) “And now?” Simon asked. He was downright giddy with it every time he got Baz to look at him. He felt it all the way down to his toes.

Four:

He thinks on that first night, as he shoves at the sash, fights with the frame, rests his hands on the sill to breathe once he’s managed it, that he might be truly, profoundly pathetic. That he craves the familiar, the routine, the mundanity of Snow’s existence so desperately that he will do this for just an echo of it. But he thinks on the second night that he is wrong. That maybe he wants the familiar but it is not this, because the open air doesn’t make Baz think of Snow. It makes him think without relent about how fucking cold he is. No other thought stands a chance. He buries himself under every blanket and he shivers still, he watches that open window and he curls in on himself, he feels no warmth and that is what he wants, something physical and immediate that is so loud in his head that there’s no room for anything else. He aches with the cold, and there are worse things to think about than that.

Five:

This is the first time he’s felt suited to actually sitting in this car like he belongs here instead of accidentally existing in it like some kind of dodgy hitchhiker, and it’s making him restless. He feels like he’s wearing someone else’s skin. He huffs again as he drops his head to the side to look at Baz. “Can I hold your hand?”

Six:

He’d gone out to the alley to get some fresh blood in him. It was a stupid idea—you had to be drunk to be humming happily while you sucked blood from a rat’s neck, and from there sobering up could only be a steep downward tumble—but Baz was a stupid drunk. The sort who thought the line between stupidity and brilliance was very thin, and that he was always wobbling on the correct side of it. The sort who thought he could get away with flashing fang in central London just because everyone else in a three-block radius was also being a stupid drunk.

This is an open invitation for someone to come round and hit me with a pool noodle until I finish any of these, please and thank you.

Now, tags:

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @confused-bi-queer @ivelovedhimthroughworse @basiltonbutliketheherb @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @forabeatofadrum @aristocratic-otter @ionlydrinkhotwater

[flowerprose]

🌾🌷💀 N A M E S A K E

a hades and persephone myth retelling in which hades is a skeleton, stripped of his godhood and powers, and persephone is a newly bloomed wife in search of her missing mother.

it was nearly impossible for me to keep this under wraps, but i'm so IN LOVE with this gorgeous artwork i commissioned from one of my favourite artists: @silkanide! not only was she a dream to collaborate with on this project, but she put in so much research to ensure everything was accurate. from referencing ancient greek styles of dress, bone structure depicted in statues, and even enduring both my writing & personal blog to ensure she matched the aesthetic of the story.

which resulted in this! ! ! 💖💖💖

it's very exciting to see hades and persehone as i pictured them in my head! i really recommend hiring @silkanideart if you'd like commissioned artwork of your OCs too! i can't wait to work with her again in the future.

🏛 Excerpt:

However fictional the pain, hot tears burst down her cheeks and a bone sunk sob blares past her lips.

 “You’re crying,” Hades notes softly. “That won’t do.” 

Warmth leeches to him, hellfire a mere shadow in place of darkness, but he craves the intimacy of touch, of skin. When his skeletal hand cradles her thin, frost-kissed cheek, he can feel neither the bite of cold nor the tenderness of her beauty. 

“Persephone,” he says more strongly, the words urgent and shielded from his limitless anger, “I meant what I told you. What transpired in that forest will not happen to you. Whether I perish in this world, whether you rule alone, I will do anything to protect you. My servants will pledge their entire existence to guard you. You will never hurt, nor will anyone you love. No matter where that love goes, or who it passes onto. Now please… enough crying.” 

It kills him, such a thought, of another man keeping her tears at bay and whispering pledges into the nape of her throat. When Demeter’s magic succeeds, he’ll be nothing but a memory, the same as the stories the elders murmur of titans. He’ll be a gravestale, no more frightening than that skulking shadow Thanatos. No one dwells on the fury of a titan, grave-sent and near-forgotten. No one will dwell on him either. Not even her. 

Yet part of him wishes so desperately that she always will. 

He tilts her head back, thoughts greened by swirling envy. The teeth of his skull brush against the plain of her forehead; then her cheek, then her lips. She caresses his teeth gently, mimicking a kiss. 

“She hurts because of us.” 

“She grieves because of me.” The blame belongs on his shoulders alone, burdenless to carry when she tries to adopt some of it. “She can’t see beyond her despair, which is why it’s so prudent that we find her. That she… knows that healing is possible.” 

“How, Hades? How will this get better? If she thinks I belong to you once this curse resolves, she won’t stop. She’ll end the entire world to get me back.”

“I sympathize,” he notes demurely. 

“Be reasonable,” Persephone says, sighing as the tears slow down her cheeks. 

“As reasonable as I can,” Hades agrees. “We share a vision of the world, Demeter and I. To lose you now that I’ve called you my own?" Her turns away instinctively, still cautious of any anger trying to take shape on his faceless skull. "What matters to me—the only thing that matters—is that you want your mother. It's simple, darling girl. Your mother you will have.” 

He feels her slacken in his arms then.

In the end, all Hades can hope is that Demeter will see reason and justice, not a memory sharpened by her brother’s trickery. Disgusted that such antics seemed to belong in Zeus’s realm, yet it was Zeus who comforted Demeter and brought her the child—now Hades' wife, his undoing.

Persephone, her hair kissed by Helios, glimmering and haloed, attempts to wipe away all evidence of her tears with the back of her dirt-smudged hands.

“I don’t want her to think that you would do such a thing.” 

“You’re not to clear your mother’s misunderstandings,” Hades says firmly. “Whatever resentments she carries for me are for me alone. For me to challenge myself. You’re her daughter, not my forsaken lawyer.” 

"But she's not going to want to listen to you! Just as my father wouldn't listen. And those wretched twins."

"I suspect she'll lose respect for both of us if I hide behind you to clear my name of something you weren't alive to witness."

"Just because she doesn't carry lightning bolts, doesn't mean she won't cause you immeasurable pain—"

Hades tilts his head down, as if to study his body.

"You needn't worry about me ever making such a mistake again," he agrees.

His young wife smiles then, the sight still unfamiliar to him. Like it should be reserved only for portraits or the attention of anyone else.

"I love you." They're the only words he can think to say in that moment, even if she doesn't answer them. Where they once stayed safely hidden, refuged in the deep, strangling darkness of his bones, now pruned free the more the worst of him rots away.

“Have we laid this to rest?” Hades says. "We should go. Lest we run into another damn monster who's forsaken his king."

Persephone takes his green, mossy hand between her warm, pearled fingers. Deep in the grave of his rib cage, a strange pulse drums against his bones.

taglist: (please ask to be added or removed!) @mr-writes, @afoolandathief, @sapphic-story, @megarywrites, @blushroomx, @ozzie-scribe, @asher-orion-writes, @theskeletonprior, @muddshadow, @thepixiediaries, @nikkywrites, @bebewrites, @jhellfiregirls, @pinespittinink, @pink-prose-n-wiriters-woe, @phantomnations, @queenslayerbee, @antihell, @monstrousfreedom, @perasperaadastrawriting, @andromedatalksaboutstuff, @thebluesthourcommunity, @fearofahumanplanet, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @stephwriteswords, @theimperiumchronicles, @brimorganbooks, @carminasolis.