#don't post when tired purple

[purpleandgreen13]

Silly little nonsense from my brain with the valley's doctor and his precious wife Jerusha. Haven't played it yet, but there are little spoilers in this: The Update

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54727021

[lavenoon]

Let's have some direct consequences, why don't we, @naffeclipse?

*self insert is not a girl (he/ she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[noneorother]

I broke down the hilarious amount of "Aziraphale tartans" so you don't have to.

I've been slowly going bonkers collecting the amount of times members of the cast/creators and fans of Good Omens over the years have referred to various things as "Aziraphale's tartan". Even on merchandise, I've seen wildly varying opinons about what pattern Aziraphale's tartan actually is. Your resident graphic designer has decided to sit down and just do the damned thing*. Exhibit A) Tartan Origin

Sarah Arnett posted this image to her instagram in 2019, having created "Heaven's dress tartan for the character Aziraphale". However, the only time I've actually seen this pattern used in good omens is in the season 2 announcement poster made by Mickey, and maybe on a pair of socks Aziraphale wears in season 1, (but I'm not convinced).

So here's what that looks like. Note I've rotated the original pattern 90 degrees clockwise in my final pattern (far right) for reasons that will become clear shortly.

Exhibit B) Aziraphale's Bowtie, Thermos, Notebook etc.

This is the tartan that Aziraphale actually wears for most of seasons 1 & 2.** It's a recoloured version of the Exhibit A), and has been rotated 90 degrees on it's bowtie application so that the darker bars run vertical, and not horizontal. The problem is, while the direction of the pattern on his accessories doesn't change, it does on the bowtie. You can see examples of the tartan going right OR left in both season 1 and 2.

Exhibit C) Aziraphale's Brown Bowtie...

This Tartan isn't just a trick of the light. For the first park bench scene in season 1, Aziraphale is wearing a version of his regular bowtie, recoloured in brown and rotated 90 degrees, so that it fits with the direction of the original Exhibit A) Tartan, but not with the direction of the tartan on his Exhibit B) regular bowties. This bowtie was made special, from cloth cut in the opposite direction.

Exhibit D) Aziraphale's Magical Cravat!

Now this is where it starts to get interesting! I haven't seen many people discuss Aziraphale's magician disguise from season 1, but his cravat actually has both Exhibit B) and Exhibit C) tartans to create a contrasting double sided tartan: the outward facing brown, and the hidden, inward facing blue (according to costumer, because of lack of enough brown).

Exhibit E) Saraqael's and Muriel's Tartan

Don't be fooled, Saraqael's and Muriel's tartan may look similar in colour to Aziraphale's, but when you pick it apart, it's got inverse colours, and mildly squished horizontal striping. If you note the orange boxes in each picture, you can see the ratio of the blue stripe to the vertical stripes in each tartan is different, while keeping the overall pattern and ratio in each direction the same. Exhibit E) has a square intersection. It's also usually woven much larger. This tartan also introduces a small sliver of hunter green into the beige/blue/purple palette that's been seen so far.

Exhibit F) Gabriel's Tartan Blanket

Like the others, Gabriel's S2E1 blanket is a variation on the original Heaven's Dress Tartan. It's got very squished horizontal striping though, and is woven even larger than the Saraqael Tartan. Most noticeably though, while it has the same grey vertical striping as Exhibit E) it's now got even more green in it, and the purple is gone almost entirely (save one line).

Exhibit F) Have a bonus Crowlee Tartan from the Season 1 body swap miracle that matches none of these.

It's silver silk though. Can I get a wahoo....?

__________________________________________ *Disclaimer: I am not Scottish, and definitely not an expert in tartan, just a tired graphic designer. If you want tartan expertise, you can go here (although I don't really agree with what they say about the main colour pattern) https://livebloggingmydescentintomadness.tumblr.com/post/189300035060/a-discourse-on-tartan

**In order to deduce colours, I've used high quality BTS footage or photography in neutral lighting whenever possible. Especially in season 2, colour grading and post processing of the final show make colour matching between scenes and/or seasons impossible.

[yourelliewillms]

i saw ur post and figured you received my request(my 2 brain cells worked hard on that)

if it was me then i was requesting for a clumsy and chaotic reader with a tired ellie/she is so done (i think that was it, my memory sucks btw😍)

ellie x chaotic!reader

headcanons

YES THAT WAS YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT AGAIN. i hope you like it !! <3

cw: little nsfw mention at the end ?

☆ when you two are pillow fighting , you'd hit her a little too aggressively on her face and all she'd do is stare at you in silence while you hug her and kiss her face as an apology. "it's okay, babe. wanna cuddle instead?" and she'd sigh when you kiss her face pretending to be tired of it but it's actually making her cheeks all red.

☆ "how did you get that bruise?" she'd ask you while looking at your knee and gently caressing the purple injury in your skin with her thumb. "no idea" you'd shrug your shoulders and just ignore it but then she'd roll her eyes and run to get you a bag of ice to put on your knee so the purple mark would go away faster.

☆ everyday she comes back home from her job, you'd run to the door as soon as you hear her keys and then greet her as a puppy. you'd jump and kiss her all over her face while she just closes her eyes and smiles as she waits for you to calm down. then, she'd give you a little and gentle kiss on your lips.

☆ when you two were teenage lovers and you had an argument in which you clearly were the one that was wrong, ellie wouldn't talk to you for days until you formally apologize to her. that apology is you standing outside her house at 3 in the morning holding a big ass sign with an "i'm sorry elz" written on it and some cringe clingy song playing loudly on your car which is usually "wouldn't change a thing" from that "camp rock 2" movie.

and if she isn't responding, you'd send her dramatic texts.

you: we're venus and mars ...... 😭😭😭😭

ellie <3: i cant.

ellie <3: sleeping.

ellie <3: 😴 zzz

you: my heart literally hurts baby pls

you: YOU (me) WE'RE FACE TO FACE BUT WE DON'T SEE EYE TO EYEEEEEE

at some point, she'd open her window and look at you until you finish singing the song. then she'd open her door and you'd run to hug her.

☆ you'd take 0.5 forehead pictures of her ALL THE TIME, you literally have a folder of pictures like that and she'd be so pissed.

☆ sometimes when she's lying on your lap and you're with your phone, you'd accidentally drop it on her face and her nose would crunch and her eyes watery. you'd gasp and cover your mouth for a few seconds and then kiss her nose gently whispering 'sorries'.

☆ ellie loves playing sports but you don't, specially those that require a ball because everytime you play volleyball or football the ball hits your face. ellie'd feel guilty and she'd run at you concerned thinking it was her fault but it's actually you who's not good at sports.

☆ you'd send her those cat memes all the time.

you: hey bbg wanna hang out

you:

ellie <3: BBG????

☆ and during sex, countless times you've hit your heads or kicked/punched her during the most interesting moments and that would just turn ellie off immediately.

[rockstvrdotcom]

It's 💅anon again!!!!

Can you pls do a s/o who like to bite or mark their partner/mate a lot??? (NSFW or SFW all fine)

With EJ, Masky and Hoodie pls 🥺🥺🥺

ej, masky, and hoodie with a s/o that likes to bite

ej, masky, hoodie x reader (nsfw but mostly sfw in there)

HI NONNIEEE!! the first work u asked for is otw!! i just decided to post this one first because the other is longer lol

tw/cw: marking/biting (duhhh), nsfw, guys theres gore in the photos so beware, fem reader, mentions of blood, scratching, cigarette burns on skin/clothes, spanking, slapping, slight somnophilia kink

EYELESS JACK

you like to mark him:

at first he was reluctant, he thought his skin was already ruined enough at it was. you assured him that it's fine, and that he's the most handsome boy you've ever laid your eyes on. (you both cringed at that but he lowk loved it cos hes canonically insecure abt his skin)

once you did it the first time.. this man could not get enough. literally begged you to do it over and over again. he's obsessed with it. you almost got tired of it (you could never tho)

loves when you leave little kitten licks on the mark; he loves the feeling so much like he could just eat you

loves when your on top of him as you give him hickeys— especially when your sitting on top of him and your hips are grinding against his.

lets out really silent whimpers as you mark him, so silent you don't even hear them most of the time. but when you're near his throat, you can faintly hear them.

gets hard so easily from you biting/marking him.

obsessed with when you have lipstick on and leave little lipstick stains on his cheeks or really any part of his body.

...loves when you mark him near the base of his cock— whether its lipstick stains or his hickeys. he just loves seeing the marks as he jerks off when your not around him. (yall im going to hell)

he likes to mark you:

after he begins to mark you he does not stop. sucks on the skin until its a dark purple/green.

sometimes he even likes to bite through the skin and lick up the blood— if you're okay with it of course.

gets really turned on when you let him break skin, usually ends up in him bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you silly. the blood gets him so riled up.

whenever you both are not busy he constantly has his teeth in your neck; not all the time but often. sometimes he'll just sneak up behind you and take a bite like you're some sort of snack.

he likes to mark you around your collarbone and neck; makes you wear v necks around the mansion so people can see the piece of art he created on your neck.

he was really gentle with it at first— asking you if it hurt or if you were ok. he has a higher pain tolerance than normal he has a hard time knowing the limits, but when you tell him it's ok and tell him you want more? he just can't help himself.

if he's marking you and you both have nothing to do it usually always ends up in him dicking you down. this mans sex drive is HIGH

asks you to sit on his lap any chance he gets and let him mark you.

guys this man is just so obsessed with marking—  gn.

MASKY

you like to mark him:

masky n tim are very different.. tim is such a sweetie pie but masky is a whole 'nother thing. but lets talk about masky

this man.. he's so down bad for you marking him like the second you asked he started rushing you to come over here and start sucking on his neck.

all that and he still won't ever take off his mask— but maybe he'll lift it just enough for you to leave lipstick stains and hickeys down his jawline.

i don't even know whether he prefers the lipstick stains or hickeys. he loves when you break skin though, he's just so into it and it gets him so hot n sweaty.

also obsessed with the way you leave scratch marks down his back when he pounds into you, likes looking at them in the mirror and how they burn in the shower

when you're leaving marks around his neck you can really smell the earthy/woody scent he has.. and a faint smell of cigarettes' on him.

likes when you mark him as hes smoking a cig; two of his favorite things at the same time? sign him up

has to have some sort of grip on your thighs while you mark him, he's obsessed with your thighs.

it js makes him so horny when you have your teeth sunken down into his skin.

wants you to leave lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt or hoodie.. idk man he js loves it.

he likes to mark you

oh boy

he lifts up his mask just enough so he can bite you and taste your skin.

thighs. leaves scratches, bites, kisses all over your thighs. he just can't stop man.

begs you to let him mark you all the time, even though it lowk humiliates him.

"please, pretty. i wan' everyone to know your mine."

leaves scratch marks all over your ass and back, idk he's just obsessed with it.

the whole marking thing rlly plays into his obsession with letting everybody know your his. he's really possesive.

this one might be a lil.. yk. but if you're okay with it and let him, he likes to leave cigarette burns on your thighs. something about stubbing out a cigarette 0n you just does something to him. or he likes leaving cigarette burns on your clothes that you don't mind being ruined.

the way he marks you is just so diverse, you don't know whats next, a bite or??

also likes to spank you or js see your ass red.. seeing the pretty light red shade on your ass does something to him. when you guys are fucking he'll grip/spank your ass hard, he likes seeing his hand prints on your ass.

HOODIE

you like to mark him

when it comes to marking, hoodie and brian are relatively similar but hoodies way more kinky w/ it.

hoodie does not hesitate to do it in public. begs you to mark him all over while you guys are in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people around.

wants you to leave them in the most noticeable places like his neck and jaw.

he just wants you all over him honestly. he wants you ontop of him littering his chest with kisses and hickies. hes so obsessed with you marking him and you can smell the strong but faint smell of cologne on him (idk how that works dont ask me)

looks down his shirt randomly just to see the marks you left on him.

every time he sees one fading he asks you to do it again.

just like ej he likes when you leave marks near the base of his dick, it just adds to the pleasure when the forming hickey is throbbing while you're sucking him off.

he likes to mark you

doesn't stop once he starts.

hes kinda a sadist tbh

doesn't do anything like cigarette burns like masky. but likes to take a smoke while you mark him. he doesn't smoke often though.

hickeys and lipstick stains are his favorite. slapping you and seeing the red slowly creep onto your face tops all of that + bruises aswell.

doesn't slap you just to inflict pain; surprisingly. he just wants to see the red marks on your pretty 'lil face

takes pictures of the marks he left on you with his camera and jerks off to them later.

praises you but also degrades you at the same time as he marks you.

"fuck, you're my cute lil' slut aren't you? so adorable with my hickeys all over her."

grips at your thighs hard while you guys are fucking; hard enough to leave dark bruises. he admires then while you sit on his lap later on.

speaking of sitting on his lap,, he loves when you're sitting ontop of him or you're on your knees infront of him as he lightly slaps you on the face, just enough to leave his handprint.

also likes spanking your ass and leaving bruises on it

squeezes your ass later to hear you wince in slight pain.

marks you while your sleeping and likes to see your reaction when you wake up

kisses the marks he leaves on you

[xentualzzz]

late night shopping

pairing: E42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

summary: you forced Miles to go to target with you at 2:00 am.

warnings: light cursing, use of mami and papi but not in a weird way, miles is aged up to 19 and the reader is 18.

miles: purple

you: pink

a/n: this is my first post so please don't judge! also, give me feedback on what you think about it.

a/n: if you want a part 2 and you want to be tagged, comment.

(part 2 is up)

_______________________________________________

You were staying the night at Miles' apartment because he didn't want you to leave.

You and Miles were cuddling in the sweethearts cradle position.

His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, your left hand on his chest tracing his pectorals and his abs, your left leg over his right, you loved being so close to him.

He was always so warm.

~

~

You woke up around 2am to Miles softly snoring.

Admiring his features as the moon illuminated his face, tracing his jawline, moving his braids off his shoulder.

'why is this man so fine?'

Anyways, you moved his hand off your shoulder and grabbed your phone.

You tapped the screen to see the time was 2:13 am.

You didn't really care about the time, you were used to waking up so early.

You scrolled through your notification center and saw that Target is having a sale on fairy lights.

'yes! finally!'

You went to the app and saw they only had one box of lights left.

'oh shit. I NEED to get these right now.'

You put your phone back down and turned around towards Miles to see him still sleeping with his back facing you.

You put your hand on his shoulder.

"Miles."

"Babe."

"Morales."

You sighed, he still didn't wake up yet.

You put you hands on his shoulder and hip and got really close to his face.

"Papi." while shaking him.

Miles turned his head towards you but not his body.

"Hm. Yes Mami?"

'oh my gosh that morning voice, and those eyes.'

Miles smirked at you.

He knew exactly what were you were thinking.

"Mami. You good?"

He flipped over towards you.

You let go of him.

"my bad, yea i'm good."

"Can we go to Target?? Pleaseeee?"

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes. Remember how I told you i've always wanted to decorate my room with fairy lights?"

"Mhm."

"There's only one more box left at Target. Please amor I'm BEGGING you to take me."

"Mami. It's like 1 or 2am in the morning. "

"I'm not going all the way to Target."

He flipped back over with his back facing you.

You put your hands on his hip and shoulder again.

"But I really want to get the last boxxx." you whined.

"And you know what I want?"

You tilted your head.

"Sleep."

"Please?"

"No."

~

~

You and Miles were walking out of Target with a bag in your hand.

"Thank you so much Miles."

Miles yawned.

"I'm still tired as hell so you owe me."

"Don't worry. When we get back to your apartment I have to something to show you."

You gave him a seductive smile as you two stepped into Miles' car.

"Oh? What is it Mami?"

Miles grinned back at you.

"I'll show you tomorrow night."

~

~

a/n: i really hope you guys liked this!

part 2 is below

edited

[appleblueberry-pie]

yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

[lazypanartist]

"Sit Still"

Artistic! Earth 42 Miles x Reader

Based off This Post I Just Made.

Mildly suggestive themes, maybe don't read if you're <15? Idk. Don't be gross or weird or whatever.

I'm also, like, STUPID tired rn, so. Sorry. No beta. And it's short.

-----

"Sit still, cariño."

The words were barely breathed across your shoulder as he worked behind you, and you couldn't tell for sure what caused you to shiver; his voice, his words, the breath.. or the paintbrush dancing across your spine as Miles flicked his wrist, finishing the stroke he had been working to perfect.

He sat back to admire his handiwork, and you snuggled deeper into the pillows you were in, face down on his bed.

It had been a small struggle for him, completing.. whatever he had been working on for the last hour or so. Only a small struggle.

Still..

Smoothing his hands along your sides, he breathed a laugh as you tensed.

"Miles!"

"¿Que? I'm thinking!" He patted your side gently, pulling another laugh. "I can't help if you're ticklish, mi vida."

Still, he stopped his roaming hands, settling one at the base of your spine to keep you still. You tensed again as he started drumming his fingers - a small habit he had when thinking.

"'S it okay?" You mumbled up in question. He hummed quietly.

"'Course it is. Can't believe it either.. all the moving you did."

You offered a halfhearted argument into the pillow, and he patted your lower back. "Si, I know. Let me just get a picture, 'kay? Then we can get you cleaned up."

You nodded, earning another drum of his fingers before he was standing up. The mattress shifted with his absence, an emptiness filling the space behind you while he moved silently. You only knew he was back for sure with the presence of a warm cloth against your back, tracing a gentle path up the curve of your spine.

"See?" He set his phone in front of you, holding your shoulders gently to keep you up and steady.

A beautiful flower bush decorated your back, pink and purple five-petaled flowers standing out against the green and brown.. bush, maybe.

"A hibiscus." He sounded proud of himself as he helped you further upright, pressing your still-bare back gently to his chest. "Means la felicidad. Happiness. Or, for me at least, luck."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder before his cheek was to yours, his small smile noticable in the tug of his face against your own.

"Because I have good luck?"

He chuckled quietly, smile growing. "Nah. Not necessarily, mi amor.."

He turned his head enough to settle another small kiss before finishing his thought.

"Eso es porque you're my lucky charm."

[jeanthebeagle]

Grishaverse/Ketterdam dashboard simulator

🪙 Barrelrat1877 follow

just spilled my drink on a Fierdan's boots and now he's threatening to duel me. Should I call the stadwatch??? I'm lowkey scared.

#guys please help me

10 notes

🐦 Dregsconfessionsofficial follow

SUBMISSION: Last night I was walking around the barrel and I saw dirtyhands petting a dog. Like I'm not even joking, no gloves and all. And it was one of those crusty white ones.

#submission #omg I hope he washes his hands??? # those dogs are so crusty

10,350 notes

🌊 tidesofthecanals follow

Final results from 672 votes

♠️ kvasandass follow

Razorgulls stop sending anon hate to op over a poll challenge, level impossible, no glue no borax.

#i hope they get caught for tax fraud

380 notes

🐝 thislittlelife follow

A drawing my talented daughter made of Sankta Alina. We pray to her each night 🙏🙏🙏

🐾 magic-tricks follow

46.244.29.14

🍄 thekingofravkaishot follow

hello??? Omg. Why would you dox someone just like that??? This is literally putting them in danger. It's just a sweet mother with her child, who posted a drawing. What is wrong with you.

🏵️ krugebythedozen follow

Op admitted to lying like a year ago about how they don't actually have a kid, but took the post down. It's probably a dime lion trying to troll us like they did in mass when sankta alina died. Also, respectfully, shut up. You posts thirst traps and long drawn out texts on how the king of ravka is "babygirl”. Go get help.

47 notes

🤝 theholyhandofghezenofficial follow

To the citizen who spread a highly damaging rumor that we were hosting a petting zoo inside the church, please come to talk to us. You are not in danger, but words will be exchanged. Lots of trouble was caused due to careless behavior.

⚖️ ketterdamfails follow

Womp womp

9,789 notes

🎀 justapigeon follow

Hey guys. Sorry I haven't been able to update my Pekka Rollins x Jan van eck fanfic. I've been searching for my mom for almost a week since she ran away after hearing that you had to get a vaccine for Firepox after the last outbreak. (She believes in praying to the saints.)

248 notes

🍪 eatthemerchs follow

I hate all of you. Why is this website making Kaz Brekker a soft boy when he literally MURDERS PEOPLE. No, he won't cry if you hug him. No he doesn't want to pet your dog. He'll take your eye out.

Stop romanticizing crime, all of you are sick.

(I am TIRED of the dog memes. Brekker is a crime boss. Why would any of you think he'd even care about your dog.)

🐾 magic-tricks follow

Your border collie is nice. But your chihuahua barks too much.

15,370 notes

🦂 northerstaverner follow

literally just saw some tall ass guy with a huge gun, a revolver and the brightest outfit l've ever seen, trot past my window??? In broad daylight??? Like oh my god. It felt like looking at a stork who made a wish he was human. His clothes were purple and green. Who wears that. Like, iconic. But still.

🐰 jeepsteristhebestshot follow

But was he handsome

🦂 northerstaverner follow

He was built like a stork.

🐰 jeepsteristhebestshot follow

But was he handsome???

🦂 northerstaverner follow

I'm not answering that... who is this.

🧁sugarandredribbons follow

Op answer

☁️ theweststavesucksass follow

Op we all want to know

🫵 isthisbarrelbossproblematic follow

OP THIS IS AN URGENT MATTER

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OPPPPP

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[sofiareidings]

Coffee Runs

Summary: The guy who's been coming to the cafe you work at finally asked why you've never called him by his name.

A/N: I'm sorry this story is so late, especially since I missed Monday's post. School has been so busy this week and I've also had a bunch if extracurricular lately. I'll try and be more on time from now on (Don't hold me to that) Also! I got the idea for this one shot from @hanllo-kitty

Word Count: 0.8k

Song Suggestions: Invisible String - Taylor Swift

It was a good job, a great job really. The cafe was in a nicer part of town and people would subconsciously give nice tips so your pay was good. Rarely were customers terrible. Most people that came in were students or really busy people rushing in and going.

There were a few regulars. Like Joe, Joe was an eighty year old man who came in everyday for a coffee and a sandwich. While he waited he would talk about the lotto numbers and how his kids were doing. There was also Lola, she was a journalist who spent most of her day sitting in the corner of the cafe while refilling the same cup until closing.

But there was only one regular you would think about while getting ready for work.

Come on, I don't know his name. Don't shoot the messenger.

He'd been coming in for the past three months almost everyday, right after the cafe opened for a coffee. He always looked a little tired and acted like it too. He barely made conversation and normally shuffled out of the store in the same fashion as the other overworked people; quickly.

You hadn't learned his name yet. He always seemed to forget to say it when you asked, which resulted in you making up something.

"Guy with the sweater vest!"

"Guy in the purple!"

"Guy with the scarf!"

You get the point.

He was your favourite regular because of his looks. God, even when he was incredibly sleep deprived he looked beautiful. He had brown hair that fell just below his sharp jaw. Brown eyes that always happened to be in the light from the cafe window, making the small gold flakes in his eyes shine. He was normally dressed in a sweater vest and neutral pants, he probably worked at some type of office. The one part of him that stood out in his outfits were his converse, odd for the rest of his outfit. You could've sworn a few times you saw brightly coloured mismatched socks.

***

The sound of the cafe bell echoed through the nearly empty shop, having only opened half an hour ago. Smiling in the direction of the person walking in you quickly noticed it was 'Guy with *whatever he had on*" who came in. Something was different, he had thick glasses on. That was new.

"Hey, just the regular coffee and donut?" You put the order into the computer, looking back up at him. Taking in the new look.

"Yeah, thanks." His lips creased into a line, you called it a tired smile, the same one he made everyday. He handed over his money and poured the change into the tip jar then stepped back to wait for his order.

A couple minutes later you came back to the counter with his order. "Guy with the glasses!"

He did his usual, smiled and grabbed his order saying bye. But just when he reached the threshold of the door he paused and turned. "Why do you do that?"

Having already turned around you paused, this was the first time he'd talked to you in a clear voice. You weren't really sure what he meant. "Do what? Did I get your order wrong?"

He cleared his throat and seemed a little frustrated. "You never say my name, you just call me guy with something. Is it just to annoy me?"

"What? No, you've just never told me your name." Laughing a little, realising the misunderstanding.

"I didn't?" His face changed to confusion, "Oh my gosh, I didn't." He realised his mistake then his face flushed a shade of red.

"Don't worry, it's okay. Guy with the glasses." You laughed, looking around the cafe for a minute, strange it was still pretty empty.

"I am so sorry, I thought I told you and you just wanted to annoy me. I feel like a jerk, you seem so nice." Genuinely sorry he apologised profusely. "Can I make it up to you?"

Deciding to take the chance, you'd been daydreaming about this guy for months. "Well, maybe you could take me on a date." A little shocked by your own boldness, your face went up like twelve degrees.

"Uh, yeah…" He trailed off, clearly flustered. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Well then, it's a date." You beamed, internally jumping up and down out of excitement. Since when were you so forward? He made that smile he made everyday before turning towards the door again.

That's when you realised.

"Wait!" You shouted, louder than you expected. Causing your coworker to drop a cup. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Spencer. I'll make sure to be back tomorrow." He nodded again and chuckled lightly before finally walking through the door.

God could tomorrow morning come any quicker.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Choking

➤ Day 2

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x Neighbor! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Choking, age gap, P in V, language, aggressive behavior, some eating out, some boob grabbing, ass slapping, fingering, kissing, passing out

𖤐Summary: Ghost felt horny after work. He was bored and wanted to have some fun, so he asks his neighbor Y/n to help him just a bit on his situation

——————

———————

5:00PM

Simon Ghost Riley just got off of work. He was bored the entire day working. He only did Traffic Stops at work and everything was boring and earlier today when he checked his phone something had popped up.

He followed his neighbor Y/n's Instagram account and what popped up was her in a red two-piece bikini laying by the pool at their apartment complex.

Her legs looked perfect, they looked smooth and shiny. One photo was then of her chest her bikini top was small and the triangles just barely covered her nipples.

He opened the door to his apartment and rubbed his tired eyes and messed with his crotch as his dick was hardened by his little neighbor.

Now, you're also probably wondering why he follows her on Instagram, well...she gave him her Instagram to get a hold of her.

Ghost didn't have Instagram and barely knew how to use it; he didn't have any sort of social media. He thought that no one should know about his business, not even his own friends from work, and was wondering why she just didn't give him her phone number instead?

He removed his uniform and looked down at his boxers seeing his friend standing up. He grabbed some sweatpants and walked out of his apartment going across the hallway to his little neighbor's door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The door opened and he looked down at Y/n who was in black booty shorts, and an over-sized t-shirt that went to her mid-thigh.

Ghost could barely control himself.

Holy fuck

"Oh hi, Simon. What can I do you for?" She asked all innocent and kind to him.

"Hey, Y/n...umm~ I was wondering if you can help me with something?"

"Oh okay, like what?"

"I have some furniture to move, and I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Oh yeah, let me get some socks on and I'll be right over," she gave him a sweet smile, one that makes Ghost melt every time he sees her.

He went back to his apartment and messed with his crotch again, but it was hard and sensitive. He bent over and his arm was against the wall as he moved his hand from his crotch.

"F-Fucking hell," he groaned as there was a small knock at the door, he knew it was Y/n and he opened the door letting her inside.

"Hey, I'm all set," she walks inside.

"Right..." he shut the door. He looked down at her as she really did seem like she wanted to move stuff around but really...that's not what he wants.

Ghost towered over Y/n making her turn when the light was being blocked.

"Oh hi," she said, looking up at Ghost.

"Hi," he picks her up and with instinct her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms went around his neck. Ghost's hands rested on her waist.

"W-What are you d-doing?" She asked.

"You posted a picture of yourself on your Instagram, and I've been wanting to fuck you all day long."

His lips landed on hers. They started to make out and Y/n wanted to push him away but deep down she didn't really want to. Ghost started to walk to his couch and sat down with Y/n now on his lap.

His hands went from her waist to her butt. He started to massage her butt earning a soft moan from her. His hands then went up her shirt removing it over her head and tossing it on the floor at his feet.

He pushed her on her back, he unhooked her bra and removed her shorts tossing them. He looked down at her naked body.

"You don't wear panties under your shorts?"

"I was home. So, there's no point in wearing them..." she looked embarrassed.

"Don't be embarrassed, love," he bent down close to her neck and kissed it also leaving some small purple bruises on her neck.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as she felt cold air hit her body and made the hairs on her arm stand up and her nipples hardened against his chest.

He licked his middle and ring fingers and slowly shoved them inside her lower half. She bucked her hips up and moaned his name, he kissed her lips, and her moans were muffled into the kiss.

He sat up and wrapped his big veiny hand around her neck. Her little hands held his as he was holding her tight but not tight enough to cut off airflow.

"Ah~ S-Si," she moans as he shoved his fingers faster inside of her earning a loud moan from her lips. He smirks as he squeezed around her neck just a bit tighter and his fingers moved faster.

Her lower half sounded wet, she moaned and gripped at his hand that was around her neck and her other hand gripped the one pushing his thick fingers inside of her.

"A-Ah~" she huffed out a moan as she felt herself about to cum on his fingers which she soon did.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, his hand around her neck stayed there. It was still tight, and she could barely catch her breath now.

He sat up and removed his sweatpants and removed his boxers as well. His dick sprung out and Y/n's eyes widened at his huge dick.

He pushed himself inside of her and she moaned as her walls were being stretched.

"AHH~!" She moans as her hands clawed at the hand around her neck.

"Si-Simon," she moaned. He didn't listen as he thrusted quickly in and out of her. Her legs squeezed around his waist.

She now could barely breath. Ghost kept going and moaned when he could feel her tighten around his dick.

"H-Holy hell," he moans.

"Mmm~" she whines clawing at his hand. "S-Si I-I can't b-breath," she cried. When she talked it felt like her breath was just being taken away and she couldn't catch her breath.

Ghost looked at Y/n's face and saw how red her face was. He quickly removed his hand and he started to cough, it sounded hard, like a flu cough, and she took deep breathes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he bent down close to her face and kissed her temple. She was still taking deep breaths.

"I-It's okay," she said as she rubbed at her neck, and he was slowly thrusted in her now.

Her arms went around his neck as he held her waist. He put all his weight on her as he was now lazily thrusting inside of her.

He felt himself twitch inside of her and he pulled out watching cum leak from her.

He bent down and licked between her folds. Her thighs tighten around his head moaning and gripping his dirty blonde hair. He smacked her thighs leaving a handprint on her thigh. She moaned when he smacked her.

He moved his mouth and pulled her close to his dick. He brought her leg up and kissed her inner thigh.

"Ah~ S-Simon," his hand went up her stomach and groped her breast. She moaned as he also pinched her nipple. She moaned and grabbed his hand.

He kissed, sucked and bit at her inner thigh and did the same to the other thigh.

"Si-Simon."

Simon then smacked her thighs again and she moaned again, he smirked and started to become a little more aggressive. He turned her over, he sat up on her knees and brought her ass up and her face was pushed into the cushions of the couch.

He pushed her face into the cushions, he smacked her butt and squeezed her butt as well.

He moved down and licked between her wet folds, she moans and gripped the soft couch cushions. He pushed his fingers back inside of her. She moaned into the cushions, and he smacked her ass again.

"Si-oh my god," she let out a breathy moan.

Ghost's eyes were dead as he listened to her moans. He stood back up and pushed his dick back inside of her and gripped the back of her neck and brought her up as her face was against the side of his. His left hand went to her throat and his right hand went to her left boob squeezing her and holding her up.

She was a mess when he started to thrust inside of her. Her hands went to the back of his head and gripped his hair. He pushed her back down on the couch cushions and kept moving in and out of her.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" She kept moaning as she felt herself about to cum again.

Ghost could feel her about to cum too and moved quicker and watched her squirt onto his dick and on her lower stomach.

"You are such a messy girl," he said, pulling out and running his fingers between her wet folds and licking his fingers and her clean.

She fell flat on the couch and Simon smirked and chuckled at her.

"Come on, love, let's go get you clean," he said, pulling her up and taking her into his bathroom running a bath and placed her into the tub and he got behind her in the hot water.

She was so relaxed and leaned back and hit his chest and let out a satisfied moan.

He rubbed some soap in a loofa and started to rub it on her skin.

"Thank you, Simon."

"Please call me, Ghost if you want."

"Ghost?"

"I'm a LT in the Military and a deputy for the Police and my codename is Ghost in the Military."

"Oh, I understand." She smiled at him.

"That...that smile of yours. I love that smile of yours. Every time you smile at me, it makes me melt. I'm so glad, I was able to..."

"Fuck me?"

"Yeah~ I was trying to find a better way to say it, but you took the words right out of my mouth," he smirks. "Also did I hurt you when I choked you?"

"I mean...I'm okay, it just took my breath away a little, but I'm okay, I promise, I'm okay," she said.

---------

"So, I'm guessing you never had any sort of furniture to move?"

"No, no, I didn't, sorry I trapped you here."

"Don't say that. You didn't trap me," she smiles.

"But I'm sorry that I did that though."

"It's okay," she said as she opened the door. She was ready to go back home.

"Hey...if you want to, later tonight you can come back over, and we can have dinner."

"Yeah...I'll come back...what time?" She asks.

"Umm~ in an hour maybe?"

"An hour?" She questioned.

"Yeah...we can make the food together," he leaned against his doorframe.

"Yeah, I'll come back soon," she smiles.

"Good...ummm~ see ya' later."

"See ya," she smiles.

[cinellieroll]

☆ random aot headcanons!

eren, armin, mikasa, sasha, connie <3

cw: modern au, slight angst but nothing too graphic. there might be grammar errors too bc fuck proofreading honestly

small note: so the reason why i took so long to post is because i had to do a lot of things and my old draft got fucking DELETED and that affected my motiviation to write so...im so sorry 😭

armin:

- during armins childhood he used to be scared of dogs until he came over eren's house often. his fear of dogs eventually disappeared. (i hc that erens family had a dog that time and its a german shepherd)

- armin has had his own small shelf of books ever since he was a baby! he got his bookwork attitude from his father.

- meanwhile he got his manipulating skills from his mama (and no i don't mean this in a bad way. armins mom is a girlboss.)

- went to church every sunday when he was young till his early teens. eventually stopped because he became more and more devoted in school.

- every year he looks forward to vacations the most because thats where he gets to visit his other relatives in the province! they live nearby the ocean and armin always receives trinkets and seashells from them.

- if you ever get to live with armin expect a lot of magnets on the fridge. especially if they're beach related like seashells, squids and fish!

- always has chapstick everywhere he goes especially in school because he has a bad habit of biting on the skin on his lips.

- loaded with stationery bro like you name it, he has it

- he's kind of a picky eater and also has a few allergies like shrimp or a specific fish.

eren:

- had a lot of game merch as a kid. minecraft, fortnite, etc. you name it, he has it.

- very much a computer addict during his teenage years. his parents constantly scolded him for it and they eventually got tired of scolding him lmao

- has been sent to the guidance quite many times because of his recklessness. like every fucking school year you'll hear my boy in the guidance.

- the fact that jean has teased him way too many times because of it doesn't help

- one of those bitches who turns their pfp into a black screen and posts on his story "hiatus." then comes back the next day

- mikasa was mainly the one who taught him to drive, including levi

- road rage thats all im sayin

- during elementary and highschool there's never a day where he doesn't fall asleep in class. usually falls asleep in math or history

- always compares heights with mikasa to sew if he finally grew taller than her

mikasa:

- entered her goth phase once she reached highschool

- from other peoples perspective, they'd think miksasa would be a smoker but in truth she actually hates it. one of her main priorities are self care after all

- very strict with her work out routine. she can't miss a day of it unless it's her cheat day

- her cheat day is like once every 3 months bro

- but it's good for you because she lets you join her. if you're lucky she'll let you sit on your back while she does push ups ;)

- joined jujitsu and taekwando with eren when they were younger

- started walking to school by her own or with eren and armin when she turned 15

- always rolls her eyes or side eye people unintentionally

- very protective of her girl friends. if you're close enough with her she'll always accompany you everywhere like how she does with eren. she's constantly asking where you are on weekends and on school days she'll be waiting for you outside your classroom breaks.

sasha:

- enjoys and i mean ENJOYS going to the mall and always look forward to cinemas. she'll invite all her friends for a good movie date!

- her favorite genre is horro and likes to watch conjuring with connie.

- her favorite color is purple and yellow!

- another one who falls asleep in class alongside connie

- after school convenience store hangoutd are very common when you're friends with her!

- if you're in a friend group with her and you feel left out, she'll most likely be the one to notice.

- no worries, she'll make you feel right at home!

- (istg this is the reason why ppl cry over her death i lub her sm..)

- very loud and obnoxious laughs but its okay because it's sasha

connie:

- is a basketball varsity student! to be honest he likes every sport where he gets to run and jump alot because it "fuels" something inside of him

- no school items whatsoever like he lost all of them after a month. he prays for the best and just picks up pens and pencils on the ground.

- always does bets with his friends. usually consists of who will treat everyone free food after school

- likes banana icecream / popsicles. like the ones where you peel it and stuff. also a slurpee lover. dude he just buys anything he finds delicious in the store

- sings out loud in the hallways when he's in an especially good mood. bro he got scoldes by the teachers once

- mainly teases jean out of all his friends but i feel like thats already canon

- HE DOES THAT THING THAT OLDER BROTHERS DO WHERE THEY BLOCK YOU AND DO A BASKETBALL MOVE ISTG ITS INFURIATINGGGGG

- also glides his hand on the ceilings when he gets the chance

- his bag smells like ass

[tkaulitzlvr]

FORGET - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom comes home from rehearsals in a bad mood, you suggest a way to make him feel better.

content: smut

a/n: i hate this but i haven’t posted in a while so hopefully it makes up for my absence. i’m having to reupload this bc for some reason it didn’t show up under any tags when i posted it the first time 😍😍 i love tumblr such a great smooth-running app 💗

the front door opens and closes quickly with a loud thud, soon destroying the peaceful silence that had remained throughout the house all day. it was evening, the sun almost set as it cast a plethora of dark purples and oranges across the cloudless sky. the day had been totally unproductive on my end: tired body sprawled out on the couch, enveloped in soft blankets, hands reaching lethargically to the bowl of popcorn resting in my lap, eyes fixed on the series that i had insisted to spend one hour watching, knowing that i had countless jobs to do - though time quickly passed by until it had totally slipped through my fingers.

tom however, had been the complete opposite of lethargic, having woken up early this morning and leaving for the studio as he had done everyday for the past week, a big show coming up at the weekend that he needed to be well prepared for. he had sealed our lips in a sweet kiss before exiting, embracing me in a quick hug before hurrying out of the door, seeming as happy as he would be any other day. yet the chaotic entrance he displays as he enters the living room tells me that he is not feeling at all content, his jaw clenched, with anger clouding over his expression, painting the beautiful features with a dark stare that admittedly frightens me the second i register his change in mood.

"tom?" i call out, leaning forward as his sultry frame nears my own, walking towards me slowly and slumping onto the couch beside me, maintaining a distance too large to not be questioned, instead of wrapping a gentle arm around my waist and attacking me with kisses as he usually would after a long day like this one.

he utters an almost inaudible 'hey baby', his words tender despite the lack of kindness that his tone and actions display, before letting out a deep sigh and massaging his temples, his head falling backwards in what i can only assume to be frustration. in any normal circumstance, he would be showering me with affection and asking me about my day amidst subtle complaints towards his own. yet he remains distant, eyes skittish, leg bouncing up and down as he refuses to shift his gaze towards mine or make any conversation, creating the questions of whether i am the reason for his current bad mood.

"what's wrong?" i ask, turning to face him and moving closer, placing my hand on his thigh in attempt to bring any comfort, no matter how small.

"nothing." he mutters, refusing to look in my direction, the harsh expression plastered on his face failing to soften. though he doesn't refuse my touch, allowing my hand to run soothingly across his thigh, my touch tentative as i test the waters.

"you don't come home looking this upset every day." i respond, not giving up despite his cold demeanour. my voice is soft, barely above a whisper, not wanting to frustrate him any more than he clearly is, instead opting for a more subtle approach, recognising the comfort that he silently craves. "talk to me."

the gentleness within my tone appears to work in my favour, tom slowly seeming to warm up to me, an exasperated sigh escaping his mouth as he turns to look me, his expression immediately softening, any remnant of tension fading away. he extends his hand outward, placing it on top of my own and giving it a small squeeze, the small act silently saying 'sorry for being a dick', though he quickly verbalises his apology as his mouth opens to speak.

"shit- i'm sorry baby." he mutters, shaking his head in apparent disapproval towards his own actions, the grip that his hand has on mine tightening slightly, his thumb running slowly up and down the skin. "practice was really stressful today, that's all. everyone expects so much of me and it's just a little too much sometimes. i didn't mean to take it out on you, i just-"

i immediately cut him off, resting my head on his shoulder and angling it slightly, allowing our eyes  to stay interlocked, a soft smile now etched upon his face, though i can tell it is forced, one that aims to console me instead of signal towards his happiness. "don't apologise, i get it. is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"it's okay schatz. i'll be alright." he mutters, resting his forehead against my own. the sudden close proximity allows me to register the rapid change in his eyes, the sea of brown soon taken over by lost as they darken, his gaze flickering from my eyes to my lips. he hesitates though, head nearing towards my own at an unimaginably slow pace, leaning in until our lips eventually touch, sealing in a sweet kiss. he is gentle, choosing to savour the tender moment rather than act on his impulses that are becoming increasingly obvious despite his attempt to hide it. i quickly kiss back, my hands naturally wrapping themselves loosely around his neck, tom's soothing my waist whilst the other reaches not so innocently, grabbing my ass and pulling me onto his lap.

i break apart from the kiss, moving downward slower and slower, hands trailing teasingly down the spread of his thighs, eventually stopping once my head is eye level with his crotch, noticing the way that his bulge becomes prominent through the material of his jeans. this angle allows me to notice his chest heaves up and down, ragged breaths leaving his now parted lips, legs spreading apart to allow my head more space where he wants it most.

"how about..." i mumble, voice low and seductive, lashes batting as my eyes look upward into his own, whilst my fingers reach towards the button of his jeans, making contact with them ever so slightly. "i make you forget about it all. hm? how does that sound baby?"

"mhm." he whines, hands reaching for the button of his jeans, doing so with limited success as i reach to stop him, much to his dismay. "fuck- please, just do something."

"just sit back baby. let me do the work. you're stressed out, i wanna make you feel good." i whisper, slowly moving his hands to rest at his sides, fingers hooking around the zipper of the oversized denim as i tug it downward, eyes never leaving tom's. he hoists his hips upward, allowing me to remove the jeans easier, letting the material pool at his feet, wasting no time before sliding one finger into the waistband of his boxers.

"jesus christ- please, don't tease. need to feel you." he breathes out, his voice low and ragged, clearly unable to withstand the slow pace of my movements, wanting more than just my touch, needing it to travel elsewhere, his boxers an obstacle to his desires.

somewhat pitying his desperation, i nod my head, complying with his plea, my fingers wrapping securely around the cotton, finally pulling them downward, his dick springing from the material, a loud groan sounding from his lips at the feeling. his eyes darken, no longer kind and forgiving as they had been when he was pleading just a few seconds ago. they are different, reflecting the desperation which is made more evident than ever before, no longer concealed by the thin material of his boxers.

and, before he is able to utter another breathy complaint of my hesitance, i soon put any ability to form coherent sentences to bed when my lips make contact with the tip of his dick, hand resting at the base as i slowly take it in, studying the way his mouth falls open, eyebrows threading together as he is unable to do anything but watch in awe, tired lust fuelling his motivation to keep his eyes open, refusing to tear his eyes away from the sight unfolding below him.

the temptation to stop just before taking the final few inches in becomes real once i realise that i cannot take much more, my entire body stopping momentarily to accustom to feeling so completely full, though the motivation of his short moans, quiet and almost unnoticeable, prompt me to go just that little bit deeper, until his tip hits the back of my throat, hand beginning to run up and down what i am unable to fit in.

almost instinctively, his hand threads through my hair, collecting the loose curls within his fingers, threading through it roughly as they begin to craft a makeshift ponytail, though i soon pick up on the true intention of his touch, realising that it is nothing close to resembling innocence, every ounce of intent behind it as i recognise the gentle movements the palm of his hand initiates, encouraging my mouth to move just a little faster.

"fuck schatz- just like that..." he allows a much more obvious moan to sound from the back of his throat this time, no longer concealing his recognition of pleasure that i provide, his walls soon crumbling down when i speed up, deciding that pretending to be in any place other than heaven itself would be foolish, unable to deny the way my mouth moves in just the right way, prompting him to his release faster than ever before.

the tears that soon cloud my vision act as no restraint towards my movements, cheeks hollowing as they tighten around him, the effect that this has on him impossible to deny as he curses under his breath, a guttural moan leaving his parted lips in clear confirmation of his satisfaction, this all i need to sink onto him further, determined to push him towards his release.

and he is clearly not too far away from it, his hips beginning to thrust upward, meeting my own movements as his steady hand on my head becomes not so assured, fingers shakily threading through my hair as he manages to take some control, though not enough to direct the way that my mouth moves. nothing has ever been clearer than his desperation, his hips stuttering more often than they manage to keep their movements contained, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat, tears soon cascading down the tinted skin of my cheeks, the feeling of his dick beginning to twitch inside telling of just how close he is to his climax.

"fuck, don't stop baby, gonna cum..." through his moans he manages to speak, his mouth opening and eyes finally squeezing shut, this the only warning i receive before he shoots his hot cum into my throat as i quickly swallow it, a loud groan following his release. thrusting sloppily into me a few more times, his eyes open slowly, chest heaving up and down, entire body trembling as he comes down, finally allowing my mouth to leave his dick, saliva coating the length once i move away.

even when i adjust myself, collapsing beside him breathlessly, i can tell that this isn't enough for him. he craves more, beyond his fucked out expression, i see that he needs to feel me once again despite the evident fatigue etched upon my face. and he shows no shame in acting on his desires, reaching forward and pressing his lips onto mine once again, the kiss lacking the softness it had before. this time, it hints towards pure lust, desperate touches being nothing more than physical evidence of his hunger.

"just one more baby. can you do that for me?" he mumbles against my lips, our foreheads touching as he hovers above me, my head slowly nodding before i impatiently pull him back downwards, initiating the kiss this time as our lips reconnect once again, this time with more desire. he seems pleased by my sudden acceptance, enjoying the way i reciprocate his movements, craving nothing more than to see me begging for him, no longer looking for the innocence that had initiated whatever ungodly acts that are about to resume. his tongue delves into my mouth, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he becomes rougher by the second, not interested in wasting time as i had the first time. his hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion, taking only a few seconds to admire my frame, instead rushing to kiss the soft skin of my neck, his impatience taking any ability to appreciate what is in front of him away, though i know that he silently always will, his actions evidence of his adoration no matter how impulsive they seem.

heavy sighs escape my lips as he continues to mark my neck, hands fumbling with his t-shirt, desperate to remove it. tom quickly catches onto my impatience, removing his lips briefly from my collarbone to discard the material. my eyes immediately lock onto the soft skin trailing from his upper shoulders, gaze ending on his lower stomach, each inch of skin being caressed by my soft touch hand, running carefully over each muscle, the pads of my fingertips making gentle contact with his front whilst we maintain eye contact, the silence only frustrating tom more.

"i need you so bad." he mutters, hands finding the waistband of my leggings, my hips shifting slightly to allow him to tug them down. the air between us is a barrier to him, separating him in every way possible despite its invisibility. i feel it, almost as much as i do his body against my own. i long to be closer to him, yet he is connected to me, our torsos pressed together with our legs intertwined. we are so close, aligned with each other both physically and mentally, but it isn't enough. my heart twists at the gut-wrenching realisation that this moment will not last forever, aching to be intimate with him for every remaining second of my life. and each kiss he plants on my lips i gladly reciprocate, sealing our love in the most pleasurable way possible.

though when his lips kiss just above my panties, i lose all sense of reasoning, all ability to think about anything beyond the feeling of his mouth working against my body. it is enough to send me into a trance, hypnotised by the possibility of being pleasured, using this reality to tune out any thought that doesn't centre around him. he is my oxygen, his touch my endless supply of, the way his hands run along my body casting every worry, every mere uncertainty, even my surroundings away, my mind solely focused on the pleasure he is giving me, every crevice of my body caressed by his wandering hands, until they reach my underwear, tugging them down at an agonisingly slow pace.

"please." it is my turn to beg this time, soon realising how completely irritating it is to be so close to the very thing you want, the feeling soon becoming nothing short of a need as i gaze desperately into his dark brown eyes, willing to plead until my throat turns raw if the reward is feeling him inside me.

"be patient, meine schatz." he briefly responds, joining our lips together whilst one hand reaches behind me to unclip my bra as it quickly falls to the floor along with the rest of our clothing.

i struggle to be as complacent as i had been, failing to hide my growing desire to have him inside me, pulling him downwards into me and clutching his upper back so tightly as if he can slip out of my grasp. this emotion is overwhelming, every inch of me fuelled with utter ecstasy, thoughts of heaven itself seeming pathetic compared to this.

becoming overly impatient, my hands scramble for his underwear, pulling it downwards whilst his lips are attached to my collarbone, leaving purple-ish marks. he quickly pulls away, staring tenderly into my eyes, his gaze carrying thousands of emotions despite the silence between us.

"are you ready?" he whispers, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear as he positions himself. "tell me if i hurt you, okay baby?"

i nod my head eagerly, knowing that any pain that would come from this would be insignificant in comparison to the pleasure. "i need words honey." he whispers, kissing my cheek repeatedly, finally satisfied when i utter a confident 'yes'. he pushes into me, a choked moan escaping from my parted lips, a slow groan coming from his as he begins to move. the euphoria coursing through every vein, every nerve within me is set alight the second he bottoms out.

it takes a few thrusts for him to create a steady rhythm, and even less for him to recognise the angle needed to drive me close to insane, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he hits the place where i long for him most. small groans sound from the back of his throat, his heavy breath fanning over my neck with each thrust, head buried tightly into my neck. any chance to get closer to him, i feverishly take, wrapping my legs around his torso, allowing him to hit deeper spots nobody has ever felt before.

"oh fuck..." he mutters, speeding up as his hands find mine, interlocking instantly as he moves them above my head, our eyes catching each other's. the way he looks at me with such love, eyes capturing my own with such tenderness, such desire that it almost pushes me to my climax itself. it is this small act that brings along the realisation that i am hopelessly devoted to him, willing to put myself in almost any situation if it means that i am able to cherish moments like this with him, because without him i am an empty vessel. he fills me up in a way that has me begging for more, a moaning mess beneath him.

"please, don't stop!" i whine tiredly against his lips, feeling my release coming closer as my stomach tightens. desperate to reach it, i slowly begin to move against him, his hips stuttering against me in response, giving me the signal that he is close too.

"i know baby, i know." he recognises how bad i need it, speeding up in spite of his evident lethargy, his breath getting caught in his throat as he thrusts a few more times, throwing his head back and letting out a loud sigh, his release triggering my own. i swear i can see stars, my vision fading away, body so lost in intense pleasure that it is unable to focus on anything else but the steady movements of tom's hips as he rides out our highs.

breathlessly, he collapses on top of me, lazily stroking my hair as his lips are slightly parted, sweat glistening on his forehead whilst he attempts to regain his composure. this time i know he is finished, body tired and exhausted as it rests against my own, the room silent besides from our heavy and irregular breathing.

"thank you baby. always so good for me, love you." his voice is ragged, throat raw and tired, yet he exercises his limited energy to remind me of our love, his lips planting a slow kiss on my forehead.

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[its-your-mind]

ORV as textposts 30/???

[ID: The Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint webtoon paired with text posts.

1. Kim Dokja surrounded by the blue energy and TWSA pages of the Fourth Wall + "hits the bong and immediately becomes aware of the narrative. hits the bong again and looks directly at the camera knowingly"

2. Han Sooyoung and Gong Pildu landing in Peaceland + "Enter two Clowns"

3. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk supporting each other as an explosion goes off + "Hey guys, even though this looks like the development of a gay relationship, this is actually the natural expression off affection between two men who are just bery close to each other because they're gay for each other."

4. Lee Jihye lying down facedown in front of Kim Dokja andd saying "I'm going to pass out now, so don't talk to me" + "Rating: Not Cute. this girl does NOT want to work. she wars to go back to bed because she is sosososo tired. she wants no responsibilities either please."

5. Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja looking at each other + "The friendship hit different when you hated each other at first"

6. Kim Namwoon peacefully fiddling with toy robots in Tartarus + "Maybe you weren't a terrible person maybe you were just fifteen". End ID]

ID via the beautiful, the brilliant, the gift to this world @princess-of-purple-prose!!