#divine emanation

[brother-hermes]

BARBĒLŌ (Greek: Βαρβηλώ)

Yo! The Secret Book of John has an even more in-depth look at Woman Wisdom as the World Soul than Solomons work in Proverbs. Check this out:

“Its Thought(Godhead) became active, and she who appeared in the presence of the Father in shining light came forth. She is the first power: she preceded everything, and came forth from the Fathers Mind as the forethought of all. Her light resembles the Fathers light; as the perfect power, she is the image of the perfect and invisible virgin Spirit. She is The first power, the glory (shekhinah) Barbēlō (the first emanation of G-D, the supreme female principle) the perfect Glory among the worlds, the emerging glory. She glorified and praised the virgin Spirit, for she had one forth through the Spirit. She is the first thought, the image of the Spirit. She became the Universal Womb, for she precedes everything…”

-SecretBook of John 3:3-8

Now there is a grip of esoteric wisdom here that paints a clear picture of Gnosticism being born from Kabbalah but I’m going to respect the wishes of the youth amidst the Jewish community on Tumblr and leave that for fellow seekers to discover for themselves. It’s just interesting to see how mysticism thrived amongst the religions working behind the scenes via symbolism.

In closing… Kodesh Imma, Kodesh Kallah (Holy Mother, Holy Bride) Ellah aiYT Hadh (G-D is One)

[goldensunset]

kingdom hearts is like ‘here’s a complex web of profound gentle loving platonic relationships between a bunch of tragic kids that are so deeply and divinely intimate that they’ll bring you to tears just thinking about them’ and people wonder why this story has such a chokehold on me

[funfettified]

i miss being on mushrooms and seeing this sick as hell 3D gold n silver glitter just fluttering off of everything i saw… it was like more sparkly and reflective than anything irl could possibly be it was soooooo cooooool

[chadlesbianjasontodd]

#feeling either seen and heard or called out for my unfortunate educational choices

@dnealians-nemesis i have many regrets about my own decisions in life BUT they have granted me the opportunity to feel like a fox in the henhouse every time i step into a room filled with people who only know about europe, which is nothing to sneeze at

[pnw-chaplain]

I love love love my Monday nights with my witch friends

We spent tonight talking about creation myths, between the Skywoman story in the beginning of Braiding Sweetgrass and Genesis 1 and 2 and the Gnostic texts of On the Origin of the World and The Reality of the Rulers.

[fragmentedblade]

"I am sure Destiny's Slave already told you that the swords of mortals are incapable of killing someone with the flesh of an Emanator"

I kept thinking that the wording at times make it seem as if Blade were an Emanator of Abundance

[incognit0slut]

All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless. 

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me." 

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion. 

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

.

Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[cryptotheism]

I love that Blasphemous's lore is like "Okay the demiurge fucked up by making the world TOO material. The world is so disconnected from divinity that God has a hard time emanating into it. Because of this, prayers have a sort of signal loss problem. Only the most powerful, overwhelming emotions are even slightly comprehensible to the demiurge, and for some reason Guilt comes through more than anything else. This manifests on earth as people being randomly turbo-tortured for minor reasons."

[roxannepolice]

[brewed-pangolin]

MDNI 18+

Imagine being woken up by Captain MacTavish's strong arms around your waist.

The sun had barely crested over the horizon. A soft bluish red glow emanated from behind the curtain, yet all you could feel was his vice like grip and the weight of his muscular leg over the flesh of your thigh.

And a very prominent, however languid jab of his hardened length against the small of your back ad he undulated his hips against your still sleeping form.

"John," you managed finally on a groggy whimper. Sleep loosening its tight hold on your psyche as the feel of him rubbing his cock against your back took hold.

"C'mon, love." His breath, hot and despondent, ran like a gentle stream against the back of your neck.

Familiar. Vulnerable. Cleansing.

And you didn't have to ask. You knew by the subtle quiver in his voice what the Captain was so desperately pining for.

"John. It's not even 6am."

"Aye. I know. Just let me stick it in for a while, yeah?"

His calloused hand traversed the flesh of your pelvis, pressing into the curve of your hip to assist in promiscuous provocation. Lifting your leg just enough as he positioned himself against your backside and leisurely slid himself into your heat.

You breathed deeply the moment you felt him stretch within your silken walls. Expelling a quiet murmur of his name, his hand splaying out over the flesh of your abdomen until he was fully seated within your tightness of your cunt.

"Tha's it, m'lass. Jus' let me sit 'ere a while."

His accent always ran thicker when he was lost in the feel of you wrapped around him.

His well maintained and muscular physique enveloping the entirety of your back. Draping over you like a weighted blanket while he inserted the essence of himself into the depths of your soul.

He inhaled the fine fragrance of your sleep cloaked scent. Night time jasmine with a hint of fresh cotton. Pulling a soft growl from his depths as you felt him pulse against the walls of your soaking core. Clenching around him. A barely audible moan rolling over your lips as he hovered his mouth over the nape of your neck.

"Don't move, lass. Cannae take it when ya clench 'round me like tha'."

You obliged, reluctantly. Easing your mind. Blanking out all thoughts and letting him bask in the warmth and silken hug that only your divine pussy could provide.

"You're gonna have to make up for waking me up, John."

"Aye? An' how would ya like me to do tha?"

You replied with a smooth buck of your hips into him. Your ass pressing into his pelvis, tugging a muffled groan thar reverberates within the confines of his throat.

"Yer a little minx, y'know tha'?"

"You're the one that started this, Captain. Are you going to finish it, or am I going to have to take command?"

His hands pressed firmly into the divots of your hips in response to your taunting quip. Burying himself deeper into your tight femininity, asserting his reprimand while the soothing baritone of his voice echoed against the shell of your ear.

"Keep it up, lass. An' I'll show you just how voracious my command can be."

I'm horny for the Captain, okay?

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[brother-hermes]

What Does Genesis 1:1 Mean?

Genesis 1:1 is one of those really tricky plays on words that doesn't translate well into English. Let's play with the metaphysics a bit while learning why quantum theorists reject spiritualist wuwu. Rock with me as we take the journey within.

 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. -Genesis 1:1 Seems pretty straight forward right? Well, having recently learned how to read Hebrew I’d say it’s anything but straight forward. The syntax is incredibly elusive and doesn’t really translate into English very well. In fact, Genesis 1:1 was quite the point of contention as the scholars responsible for the Septuagint came…

[samodivaa]

Dip it, Lick it

Warnings - smut, oral (m), overstimulation

Bucky watches you lick the ice cream before you wrap your lips around it, closing your eyelids and savoring the flavor which dances on your taste buds. You slowly withdraw the ice cream from your mouth and open your eyes. You smile innocently at his rapt attention as you continue to talk about your day while Bucky thinks about those sweltering kisses from your frosty lips―not so innocently.

But then something crosses his face, a thought, a hesitation, and he tries to shift slightly. It doesn’t help that you are straddling his lap on the couch. Not now. Not yet―Bucky keeps eye contact, gazing lovingly at you as naughtiness emanates from his eyes—you stare at him. You have curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes, eyes that are very pretty and very nice, he loves when you stare at his blue orbits—such divine orbs—not just one shade of color, but...many, with a hint of confusion glimmering, he sees it. Your eyes narrow slightly.

Without taking his eyes off your face even for a moment, but his expression is very strange, he gazes at you as though you are an object a couple of miles distant, or as though he is looking at your portrait and not at your real self at all, with a look of weariness, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen as he wants words to rolls off his tongue. He is hopelessly enslaved by something—lust. This purgatory of the spirit, arousal is something that he cannot hide, not with that huge tent between his legs.

“Bucky, are you listening to me?” “Of course I am,” he says unsteadily. He smiles, wanting your voice aimed at him, he wants his face to absorb the direction of your eyes—but your gaze moves downwards. To his crotch. Your eyes look up and Bucky’s are black as chips of obsidian staring back into yours, two black holes, letting nothing out, not even information. You don’t say anything—at least, not with your mouth. Your eyes tell him a different story. And slowly, clumsily, you lean forward, your lips find his, the coldness of yours and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, disintegrating your entire body. His tongue spears more into your mouth, and the taste of him, mixes with the flavor of the ice cream, sweet—closed-mouth kisses that still feel scandalous, but too delicious to resist.  And you thought that you might be wrong, but then a deep sound comes from him, almost a growl and instinctively you know it is a sound of approval. You chuckle softly when you pull back and if Bucky thought your mouth was dangerous, your chuckle should’ve been classified as a weapon. Sin in a sound. “Turned on by me eating ice cream?” you ask, voice barely audible. You take the ice cream in your month while looking to see his blue eyes soaking you in as Bucky groans and your core melts at the sound, your breath stops as his tongue skims his lower lip. He shakes his head, but there's something more than lust in his eyes as he stares at your lips. He wants more. “I. Will. Try. It. On. Your. Dick.” As you draw closer again, his eyes widen a little at the boldness of your words. You punctuate each word with a chilly kiss along his jaw, making your way to his ear. You bite the lobe, and Bucky’s cock twitches as the fingers of your free hand drift lower, from his abs, to his stomach. The slight touch of brow sweat-coated, his breathing uneven. He moans against your lips. His metal hand slides down between your legs and he presses a fingertip against your knickers. You just keen and your hips buck forwards. His body is on fire, his hands move to your hips, encircling your waist and pulling you onto his cock, seeking friction. Bucky runs three fingers along your covered cunt, soft folds through the thin cotton fabric. He wants to stroke you slowly, but you suddenly pull away to rise on your feet just to kneel between his legs seconds later—a tremendous rush runs through Bucky’s body, as if every cell is electrified at once, he even has to bite his lip to not moan at the sight in front of him, why is he so desperate? “Bucky” you whisper, breaking him out of his trance. 

His heart races as you reach for his waistband, sliding his sweats enough to free his cock. His dick is straining against his briefs with a wet patch forming from the precum, and you watch as his dick springs up and then falls slightly, reaching his stomach. He stares at you apprehensively, and you wrap your much smaller hand around his length, hearing him suck in a breath as you lick the ice cream again before leaning down to kiss his tip, he almost cums at the sensation of the coldness hitting his cock. Perhaps his breathing eases. Perhaps he looks a trifle more peaceful, despite his eyes rolling beneath their lids. In this moment, his mind is between two elements: one, excitement, the other, focusing on not cumming on the spot. He tries to pay attention, but the kiss with your cold lips is electric and pulsing—his loud moan makes you waste no time. You pump his cock a few times as you bring the ice cream into your mouth once again, swirling your tongue over it before pushing his dick down your throat. His cock is so large that you have to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it so you decide to focus on sucking only the tip. “Wait, stop…I-I need a moment” he nearly sobs out the words. His eyes are open, face flushed, ragged breathing which he fails to hide, his extraordinary earnestness and self-control is non-existent, he can’t keep his composure while trembling all over. An impossible pleasure goes through him, making him gasp, legs start to quiver with the impending orgasm—he has a whole body shudder while finishing and you're so mean so you keep sucking his tip.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Montero.

Yan Gojo x F Reader.

Synopsis: It was easy to find you.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, and major power imbalance.

Word Count: 700.

*~*~*~*

Satoru left the door unlocked again. He also left the keys on the table and some money. It was so obviously a trap. But how could you resist such an offer to get away from a man who has taken control of your entire life and forced you to be his little stay-at-home girlfriend? When you think about it later, after you were caught a few weeks later, after emptying every ATM you come across, using Satoru's stolen credit and debit cards, after buying yourself a motel room and passing out drunk, after buying one train ticket after another with the aim of getting to Japan's border and either sneaking onto a boat or purchasing a pass to get on. You thought of how to divide your stolen money, whether to sneak onto the ship or buy a ticket to not be arrested and thrown back into Satoru's suffocating arms. Unfortunately for you, Satoru already knew where you were, what you were doing, everything. He was always one step ahead of you.

You never know what is going on inside his head. It is both a blessing and a curse. You never know what he is going to do to you. But you also are not broken because Satoru, ironically enough, still has enough self-control to let you have some independence. Emphasis on some. It is mostly shown through moments exactly like this. But the independence is still false, like a painting of a door on a wall. 

It may look good from afar, but it is unusable. It is only good for looking at and hoping that whatever higher power there is will eventually turn into a real door because you are not God. You are not God, and you cannot create things, living or not. Satoru knows this. You come to know it. In this world, Satoru is the closest thing to a god, you think. 

He expects you to worship him as one too.

You used to, long ago. How could you resist being captivated by him, with his radiant presence and gleaming white appearance, emanating a comforting warmth and possessing eyes as vast as the boundless sky? Though his teachings were cryptic and filled with bewildering references to cursed energy and haunting visions, you swallowed them like sacred doctrine, like the finest wine in all the land, embracing him as your rescuer. He had liberated you from darkness and vowed to keep you immersed in luminosity. Whatever his true nature, it was divine enough for your devotion.

But you don’t anymore. You don’t know whether Satoru misses your praising words or not. But you don’t see him as the devil either, anymore. You blame him for the bottles and bottles you drink and drink in those motel rooms, using abandoned restrooms infested with rats, and soon having nothing to eat because you used all of your money out of impulse, out of fear. But deep down, you blame yourself for being caught back in Satoru’s web. Because, against everything and everyone telling you not to, you tried to get past security and sneak onto a boat to South Korea.

It made finding you all the easier, Satoru told you. He knew what you were doing the whole time, when you bought enough beer to nearly give you lethal alcohol poisoning, when he came to rescue you from the nearest police station, from the police officers interrogating you and threatening violence and insulting you with every word in the book. As much as you want to blame him entirely, you know some of it was you. He didn’t force you to do anything. You could have just stayed where you were placed and waited for him to come back. You are human, not immune to sin indulgence, and selfishness. So is Satoru. Neither of you are God, and neither of you are Satan.

But oh how you wish that either of you were. No matter who gets the power, at least there is some difference between you. 

Because Satoru and you are many things, but self-sacrificing isn’t one of them. Both of you know that, and you hate it. Satoru loves it.

[starbright349]

Beautiful Angel (Adam X Female Angel Reader)

In the celestial realms of Heaven, where ethereal beauty and eternal joy abound, lived Adam, the first man, and his heavenly bride, (Y/N). Their love was a reflection of divine grace, a union that transcended time itself. Today marked a special occasion—the anniversary of their celestial marriage.

(Y/N) woke up early, her luminous wings fluttering with excitement. She decided to surprise Adam with his favorite breakfast, a celestial feast that radiated with the essence of love. The aroma of ambrosial delights filled the air as she floated through the heavenly abode, preparing the breakfast with celestial ingredients.

She wasn't worried too much. She had left a lot of small hints about their anniversary for the past few days, so Adam wouldn't forget.

As the sun began to cast its golden rays across the heavenly realm, (Y/N) glanced at the mirror and decided to add a touch of celestial charm to her appearance. She decided to wear her favorite outfit that had her favorite colors on it. With a subtle touch of makeup that accentuated her otherworldly beauty, she felt ready to captivate Adam's heart once more.

Downstairs in the kitchen, (Y/N) placed the heavenly spread on a table adorned with flowers that emanated a fragrance only found in paradise. The aroma wafted through the air, and the anticipation of their anniversary celebration filled her with joy.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, Adam ascended from their bedroom to the kitchen. "Morning babe." Adam yawned with sleepy eyes as he walked to his wife. "Good morning, Adam." (Y/N) and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled softly and went to take his seat that table. Once his eyes were adjusted to being awake. Adam noticed his favorite breakfast on the table.

"Whoa, you made my favorite? What's the occasion?" Adam knew that you only severed his favorite breakfast on special occasions... or when you really, really wanted something. "Oh, no occasion, just wanted to make something special for my special husband."

(Y/N) smiled and fluttered her eyes at Adam, but all he did was shrug his shoulders and dug into his breakfast. Prior to this day, (Y/N) had been dropping hints for days, hoping that Adam wouldn't forget their special day.

As they both ate together, talking about random things. (Y/N) didn't bring up the topic of anniversary's since she wanted to see what would happen if she just let the day happen and not make anything happen.

Once Adam was done with his breakfast, he placed his dishes in the sink and washed them off. "I wish I could stay here longer babe, but I gotta get to Sera, she needs something important. I don't fuckin know I wasn't paying attention." (Y/N) looked at Adam with a little disappointment, "Aww, but you've been working with Sera for weeks, and I was hoping you would clear you schedule today. I wanted to spend some time with you."

Adam gave (Y/N) a smile and walked up to and lead to her level. "I know baby, but Sera needs this, according to her 'I need to do my part, in my Heavenly responsibilities." Adam said trying to imamate Sera, but it was really bad. "I'll be home in a few hours." Adam kissed her forehead and flew upstairs to get ready.

Sighed disappointedly and picked up the leftover dishes on the table and put them in the sink, but she had hope that Adam was going to do something special for her when he came down stairs.

As (Y/N) was cleaning up breakfast, Adam was about to walk out the door. "Later babe." Thats all he said before a shut the door and flew away. He didn't even say 'I love you.' or 'Happy Anniversary.'

Now instead of feeling sad, she felt angry and sad. She had a whole day planned for them, after breakfast (Y/N) wanted to their favorite cafe for their favorite trats and drinks, then go to the park where they had their first date. It was a picnic date, then they would come home and watch the first movie they watched together, and after words. (Y/N) would make Adam his favorite food, ribs, and maybe some nightly action in the bedroom. ;)

Having these feelings inside her, jumble up into a big mess. She fell to her knees and cried. (Y/N) didn't know why, maybe it was because he forgot, or because she thought that Adam didn't love as much anymore.

Either way, she was still very upset at Adam.

*A few Hours Later*

The whole day, until nightfall. (Y/N) spent crying or feeling sorry for herself and her marriage. She remembers how things were so much simpler then when they first got married, Adam used to make time for her and only her.

He would always shower her in love, attention, and affection. As she would do the same thing to him. But with these past few weeks, and Adam disappearing for hours, gone for entire nights even. (Y/N) feared that her and Adam's marriage was dying.

As she was on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her, watching the movie that her and Adam were meant to watch together. The door suddenly opened to reveal Adam, with a smile on his face that used to make (Y/N) melt, but instead she saw it as a stupid boy look.

"Hey babe." Adam said and walked up to (Y/N) to leaned down to kiss her. But the damage was done, and (Y/N) felt a wave of frustration wash over her as she pushed his face back with her hand. "Piss of Adam." (Y/N) said, clearly annoyed.

Adam looked at (Y/N) in confusion but he changed the look on his face. "Look (Y/N), I know that is short notice and your pissed off at me for something. But I really need you to and get dressed for an event." (Y/N) looked at with her 'death stare.' More annoyed than ever that Adam not only forgot their anniversary but also had the audacity to ask her to an event, possible one that would make him look better.

"I would rather choke on a sandpaper cock than do that, but then again. Being married to you, there really is no difference since you are quite a dick yourself." (Y/N) said as put on half on the blanket on her head for warmth.

"Babe listen, the clock is ticking here, and we don't have much time. So, I need you to get dressed right now." "Piss off!" (Y/N) said while filling her husband off. At the point, Adam was getting really annoyed with his wife's actions, he walked and stood in front of her, then tore the blanket off (Y/N) and leaned Infront of her face. "I am giving you one more chance wifey. Go and get ready for the event, otherwise I'll make you."

(Y/N) stood up and stared at Adam for a moment before she slapped him.

Adam held his face for a few seconds before he grabbed her waist and picked her up and put her on his shoulder. "Adam what are you-" "Sorry babe, but we don't have a lot of time." Adam said while holding (Y/N) tightly as she struggled and yelled. Adam led (Y/N) out of the house and flew away.

*A few minutes later*

Adam had taken (Y/N) to a dark spot in Heaven, she didn't care where she was, she wanted to get out of Adam's grip. Once Adam landed on the ground, he finally put (Y/N) down after what seemed like hours but it actually 15-20 minutes' worth of flying.

(Y/N) landed hard on her ass, but once she got up, she started scolding Adam, as he had a stupid smile on his face, almost like a smirk. "What the fuck Adam?! If you couldn't tell already, I'm very pissed at you. And you wanna know why? It's because you forgot our-"

Before (Y/N) could finish her sentence, the lights suddenly turned on to reveal a bunch of her and Adam's friends dressed up, fairy lights, a bunch of her and Adam's favorite food and alcohol on a table in one corner and a stage.

"Surprise!" Everyone said. (Y/N) covered her mouth in shock, finally figuring out what was going on. Adam still had that smile on his face as he leaned down. "Happy anniversary babe." He said and kissed (Y/N)'s cheek, she then turned her head to him. "You did all this for me?"

Adam nodded and snaped his fingers that changed (Y/N)'s outfit into a beautiful dress, transformed her hair into her favorite style, and gave her some light makeup on her face. "No-one else but for you. You're my angel (Y/N), and I love you." (Y/N) smiled at her outfit and Adam's beautiful words. She jumped up and hugged him then kissed his lips.

Adam wanted to take a step further and decided to dip (Y/N) in the process. Their clapped and cheered for the couple. Once they pulled away, (Y/N) whispered to her husband. "I'm sorry for slapping you." "And I'm sorry for dragging you out of the house like that." They both chuckled and had one more kiss.

*A few more hours later*

(Y/N) and Adam were having a great time at their party, some friends giving them gifts, others sharing funny stories about them before/after they got married.

As (Y/N) talking to one of her friends, Adam stood up on the stage. Grabbing everyone's attention; including (Y/N)'s.

"This is my biggest gift for my beautiful wife, I love you (Y/N)."

(Adam): Hey. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel.

(Y/N) walked slowly to the stage with a look of shock on her face.)

(Adam): Love your imperfections, every angle. Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam pulls (Y/N) on stage and held one of her hands.)

(Adam): The way that Gucci look on you amazing.

(He then twirls (Y/N) around making her back face him, as he slides his free hand up her back)

(Adam): But nothing can compare to when you're naked.

(Y/N) blushes and turns around to playfully slap his hand away from her)

(Adam): Now a backwood and some Henny got you faded. Saying you the one for me, I need to face it.

(Adam starts walking around (Y/N) while giving that look that made her melt again.)

(Adam): Started when we were younger. Swear to God that I loved her. Sorry that your mom found out.

(Y/N) tried to hide her red face.)

(Adam): Guess that we just really had the thunder. Ain't nobody else that I'd be under. Beautiful, beautiful life right now. Beautiful, beautiful night right now. No no nooooo.

(Adam removed (Y/N)'s hands from her face and put his hand underneath her chin to make her look him)

(Adam): Hey. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel. Love your imperfections, every angle.

(Adam brushed some hair behind (Y/N)'s ear as they both stared into each other's eyes)

(Adam): Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam leaned into kiss (Y/N) on the lips again, but she stopped him, took the microphone from his hand.)

(Y/N): Oh, my God, where did the time go? I wish the hours would go slow, how is it 6 a.m?

(Y/N) started to dance seductively Infront of Adam, not caring about the other angels watching her.)

(Y/N): Your touch is heaven-sent. Beautiful, beautiful sight right now. Beautiful, beautiful life right now.

(Y/N) came close to Adam as she continued dancing.)

(Y/N): Got the angels singin' ooh-ah, right now like (ooh-ah). And this is why we got to touch (ah). Sometimes words are not enough (no)

(Y/N) put her finger up to her tongue and licked it, making sure to have some saliva on it)

(Y/N): Painted in your golden kiss. Honey dripping from your lips.

(Y/N) wiped her saliva covered finger on something that wasn't her dress.)

(Y/N): I thank God and my lucky stars. Darling, don't you know what you are?

(Y/N) fluttered her eyes at Adam, who was blushing but also smiling.)

(Y/N): Yeah, baby, you are. ~

(Adam put his one of hands on (Y/N)'s waist as she put one of her hands on his neck, and they both held the microphone together.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Hey (hey, baby). Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel (ooh).

(Adam and (Y/N) began to dance romantically, Adam even spinning (Y/N) in the air.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Love your imperfections, every angle (oh, no, yeah). Tomorrow comes and goes before you know (you know). So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam and (Y/N) continued to dance with each other, not taking their eyes off each other.)

(Adam/(Y/N): The way that Gucci look on you, amazin'. But nothing can compare to when you're naked.

(Adam and (Y/N) let go of each other for a moment before they clanged on to each other again.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know (ah-ah, yeah). I just had to let you know. Swear to God, you're beautiful, yeah.

(Adam and (Y/N) started into each other's eyes again, before Adam dipped (Y/N) again and they both shared a passionate kiss.)

*End of the song*

Adam and (Y/N) continued to kiss each other until the claps and cheers of their friends interrupted them, they pulled away and looked at the audience for a moment before looking at each other again.

They both couldn't contain their laughter and put their foreheads together. "Thank you, Adam." "Your welcome babe." they stayed quiet for a moment. Before she spoke.

"I have your present back at home. And you get to unwrap it in bed, if you know what I mean."

(Y/N) winked at Adam. And once he heard that, he smiled.

"Oh, fuck yes."

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

[gildedkrone]

Jealous Ghost? Pre-relationship? A touch of angst? Maybe more angst? And I guess a dash of Comfort to soothe the soul of the faint hearted??

Does she know I'm tattooed onto your heart?🔞

This fic contains cheating trope. I do not condone cheating; the relationships in the fic are purely fictional. Exercise care in real life.

Relationships: Ghost x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: He seeks love and pleasure with another—you. Master List | Part 2

Skin slapping and wet noises. They are addictive as ever, and the man beneath you is breathless and panting. His skin is dripping with sweat and his mouth is on yours. You taste notes of bourbon and gets mouth fucked by the eager tongue. Pleasure is a time stopper, and you are it's keeper and watcher.

You've never had complaints about your ass, and you weren't going to get one now.

"Fuck, so fuckin' greedy, whore."

Simon, he said his name was Simon, is balls deep in you. Your mind is all frazzled by good dick and you struggle to string your words together with any sense of coherence.

"Anything for you, Simon."

He is dark, mysterious with a gravitating pull and you wasted no time in stripping when he pushed you onto the bed in the cheap hotel. A military man, he certainly didn't enjoy wasting any time to get right into business. Pent up didn't cover how he was feeling, going by how feral his thrusts were and the power behind his hips.

The dick is good, but you can't help feel guilt.

Simon is married. To a woman.

You're not a woman. You're a cheap whore of a man willing to take anyone's dick for cash.

"Always wanted to do this. Fuckin' piece of shit father—" a sharp thrust "—always gave me shit for liking men."

His technique isn't perfect but there's a semblence of experience behind it; he must have experimented with other men before. There's a photo of a woman in his wallet when he flashed the wad of cash.

"You're doing so well, Simon." He preens under your praise and renews his vigour. It's the best you've ever had and you look foward to his messages the most.

It's so fucking good and pleasure is a bolt of lust emanating from your hips up in milky spurts of cum from your untouched dick. His hands leave imprints in your hips and he fills you up nicely with a long orgasm tapering off into a kiss.

The afterglow with Simon is always a treat. He runs a hand through your hair and lays an arm across your chest. Your breathing eventually returns to normal and you gaze at him. Hazel eyes, short hair and several scars on his cheeks.

You broach the subject with much care. "You have a wife, Simon."

"She's not you."

"Do you love her?"

His shoulders stiffened before they relaxed. "Don't think I do. 'M stuck in an arranged marriage and in hell."

"Still—"

"Didn't pay you for advice, lad."

You shut your mouth wisely at the tone in his voice. You once believed his wife must be a really lucky person to have him. To be with him and in his wallet. You don't think so anymore. Not when he is here with you in a hotel room and cuddling against your flank.

When his arm leaves your chest, stringy cum drips onto you and he disappears into the toilet for a shower. When you are done, he is back in his jacket and trousers with a simple mask on. He flips through his wallet and leaves the cash on the bedside table. Simon is more generous than other men, often leaving excessive amount of cash for your services.

He points to the cash. "'s for you. I'll message you if I want more."

"Anytime, Simon."

The door shuts behind him and you count the stacks he left behind. He left a huge tip again and you pocket the cash. It's wrong, but wrongness is subjective as hell and heaven are and when you are taking him so nicely, wrongness is a far flung concept with no precedence here. No strings attached was the motto of most sex workers but its a lie to say you didn't have any sort of preference for him.

He is divine and something wicked and desire is fire to see him more often. Be his little starlet, always shining for him with the lust in your eyes. You wouldn't live it down if you broke their marriage, but if he wasn't a willing partner to his wife, who would hold it against you for being his secret?

Not especially when he is more man than any other you've slept with.

Part 2