#mikael boghosian x you

[mochimoqa]

◆◇Mochi's Masterlist◇◆

(Yes, I already had a Masterlist pero I accidentally deleted it, so I needed to make it from scratch again-)

◆Blue Jones Masterlist

🎨♡Laurent LeClaire Masterlist

🌙Steven Grant Masterlist

🌙Marc Spector Masterlist

🔪🌙Jake Lockley Masterlist

💶Anselm Vogelweide Masterlist

👑Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

🕷🕸Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

🌌Poe Dameron Masterlist

⚡️Basil Stitt Masterlist

🎸🐈Llewyn Davis

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MEET THE CREATOR!

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Heyo! I'm Mochi Moch! Or you can call me Mochi Moqa or Mochi for short :]

I'm best known for my c.ai bots, fics, and art!

Also best known for having an unhealthy obsession with Oscar Isaac-

I'm an amateur writer on here and on wattpad! (@/W3irdc0r3_dud3)

If you want a request either for art, bots, or fics, just send me a DM on Tumblr!

IMPORTANT!!

My requests are closed for now!!

My requests are open!!

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Español ver.

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¡Hola! ¡Soy Mochi Moch! O puedes llamarme Mochi Moqa o Mochi para abreviar. :]

Soy mejor conocido por mis bots c.ai, ¿fics? ¡Y arte!

También mejor conocido por tener una obsesión enfermiza con Oscar Isaac.

¡Soy un escritor aficionado aquí y en Wattpad! (@/W3irdc0r3_dud3)

Si quieres una solicitud de arte, bots o fics, ¡envíame un DM a Tumblr!

¡¡IMPORTANTE!!

¡¡Mis solicitudes están cerradas por ahora!!

¡¡MIS PEDIDOS ESTÁN ABIERTOS!!

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Q&A!!

Q: Mochi, what music do you listen to?

A: I usually listen to indie music or some banda music. Pero, I love Kali Uchis!!

My favorite song so far! ^^

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[strangerhands]

10 fandoms/10 characters/10 tags

waaaaaa omg thank you for the tag em 🫶 @runa-falls!! its been 800 years since i got to do a tag game (and make my own post for once..) so thanks! this actually made me happy but also a little "oh shit. people know i exist..?" i also made this post unnecessarily long but its me so whats new

ummm its all. only. oscar. not sorry (a little sorry)

1. marc spector + steven grant + jake lockley, moon knight-my absolute beloveds. moon knight is so special to me. the boys are so special to me. theres really nowhere near enough i could say here about them but if you get it, you get it. its also what got me into oscar (even though i discovered immediately that he was in annihilation and x-men: apocalypse WHICH I WATCHED YEARS AGO GODDAMMIT)

2. robbie paulson, law and order: criminal intent-listen. hes my girlfriend. my babygirl. my love. my sweet boy. the one plaguing damn near every Thot. most niche character here. wish he was real. wish there was more content of him out there but good god if fran (@/midgardian-witch, who also made that gif) hasnt been holding it downnnnnnn. bless.

3. poe dameron, star wars sequel trilogy-beautiful brave sweet husband who would maybe drive me a bit insane irl but in a good way (mostly) i wanna protect him. (also the only star wars films ive seen sorryyyyy sorry. yes it was for him. and adam driver.)

4. miguel o'hara, spider-man: into the spider-verse + spider-man: across the spider-verse-ohhh you beeg grumpy beautiful man. he would not like me. bite me pls (also still my two favourite movies oat.) craving some milk and cake suddenly... (his hair wings..<3)

5. cecil dennis, revenge for jolly!-pathetic little dirty alley cat man my beloved. my little princess. also my babygirl girlfriend little guy loser boy. (AND THE CURLSSSSSSS. AND SAD COW EYES.)

6. nathan bateman, ex machina-asshole who i unfortunately love. we would not get along irl but thats what fics are for!!!! he would make me cry. (but what if i could fix him..) i have a soft spot for him...

7. llewyn davis, inside llewyn davis-sad beautiful talented man. you can crash at my place any day. i would let him leech off of me idec lemme help you baby. i could show you what love is. (the curls and outfits...... i Crave.)

8. santiago garcia, triple frontier-woof. this guy. damn. yeah. sorry santi but i wanna bite your knees

9. blue jones, sucker punch-literally. asshole piece of shit but good god. whore. so slutty and beautiful and PATHETIC. i would let him be mean to me and then cry in private. but also put him in his place. its complicated. (whoever did his eyeliner and club wardrobe in that movie... i owe you my life. thank you. thank you. you deserve everything. thank you.)

10. mikael boghosian, the promise-oh. sweet beautiful intimate lover man. THAT scene... absolutely killed me. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN MEEEEE. i need him. (i am taking this moment to remind yall of the titty bite. yea. not sorry. youre welcome.)

honestly i couldve put nearly all of oscars characters but alas.

no pressure tags, hope none of you mind! i know this is very sudden and unexpected from me. only tagged some mutuals so its not 10 :p sorryy (sorry if youve been tagged already)

@my-secret-shame @saturn-rings-writes @spacecowboyhotch @villainsoftheweek @f4nrir @kouichijo @mugensword

again, no pressure to do this. hope everyone tagged is doing well! i havent interacted with some of yall in a long time<3

all gif credits go to their respective creators! i have no idea if tumblr automatically shows who made them or not, so sorry if it doesnt.

[foxilayde]

Have you watched the promise? I'm a little obsessed with Dr Mikael Boghosian and his accent. Please sir I need a play by play on how to make babies

Marriage Quilt [Mikael Boghosian x fem!Reader]

Warnings: Explicit 18+ ONLY. Minors DO NOT INTERACT. PiV, first time, Mentions of infidelity, mentions of torture, mentions of genocide.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You are Maral, Mikael's wife, on your wedding night.

A/N: Mikael is literally perfect. Go watch The Promise if you haven't already.

This is not what you expected your wedding night to be. 

It was supposed to be a lavish party, with all of your friends and relatives, every merchant and pauper of Siroun dancing the night away in the town square. 

It was supposed to be a feast, a celebration with love, and cake, and embraces, just the way Lala had been wed to Davit two summers before. You were supposed to have a fine beaded dress of your own, a party in your name…. It’s so silly. So silly and selfish to grieve a party. A frivolous party, just because you had your heart set on it. People are dying in Siroun and throughout the Ottoman Empire… and here you are, in your marriage bed, your husband alive by a miracle and the grace of god, and you— lamenting the lack of a party. 

You twist your long braid through your fingers and smooth your nightdress down your torso. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You’re nowhere near the village now, you’re in hiding, laying on a mattress made of hay— in the middle of the forest on the outskirts of Siroun. 

Before the attacks, your father had secured a home for you and Mikael, above an apothecary. And now the apothecary is empty. As was the bakery, and the tailor… everything was different. Everything was as pilfered and bare as your hopes for the future.

Mikael enters the small bedroom in his nightclothes and you can’t help but stare. You’ve never seen him in such a state of undress. He’s remained in your memory as a gentleman, fully buttoned up and proper… the way he courted you, with brown paper wrapped wildflowers and tinctures of yarrow and laudanum for your sister’s ailments… always with a smile. 

You had been overjoyed when your father told you that you would be wed to Mikael, having never yourself before suspected him of amorous intentions…. And the grief, god, the grief when you’d all thought he’d been caught in the crossfire in Constantinople…

Mikael blows out the candles in your small clapboard bedroom and gently eases in beside you, under the blankets in the creaky bed. You lay there in silence for a few short moments. It is a pleasant spring evening and the the dune crickets are chirping softly beyond the cracked window. There is an electric anticipation between yourself and Mikael, a buzzing that hums in your ears and prickles the exposed skin of your bare forearms. You gulp quietly. 

“Maral,” Mikael speaks softly as if he is afraid someone will hear him and be bothered, although there is no one around for miles.

“Yes, Mikael?” You reply in an exaggerated whisper, laughing at the end to draw attention to how silly his tone seems to you.

Mikael clears his throat and speaks evenly, “How are you?” He skims his hand along your grandmother’s quilt and finds your hand, threading his fingers through your own. It strikes you then that he has probably come accustomed to speaking quietly in all occasions at the awful labor camp. You squeeze his fingers reassuringly, stroking his warm thumb.

“I am well… Mikael.” 

“Good. That is good.”

He’s changed. You noticed at the small ceremony. Gone was much of the light in his eyes. You suspect through the windows of his vision, looking at your own face, you must appear similarly. No one has been the same since the attacks. So much has happened, so many have died, it feels wrong to celebrate anything. If it weren’t for a series of miracles bestowed to both you and Mikael, your marriage bed would more likely be a coffin, or a mass grave. 

You bring Mikael’s hand to your mouth and kiss the back of his knuckles. “I thank god you came back to us Mikael.”

The moon is bright through the cracked window and because of it, you can see the crumpling of his brow, the parting of his lips, the war on his face. Not the war he escaped, but the war in his mind.

“I have to tell you something, Maral. I have something to confess.”

Your heart picks up speed at the wrestling hurt of his voice. You squeeze his hand again and shift onto your side to look him head on. But his eyes are closed and his head is bowed when he tells you, “There was… there was a woman in the city, when I was in school… she was a friend of my uncle’s…”

You can suspect where this is going and the stroking of his fingers does nothing to abate the pounding of your heart and the hot sick twist in your stomach.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, my wife, but I can not lie to you. I was unfaithful to my promise to you and to your father… you deserve better, my sweet Maral.”

He looks at you then with open shiny eyes and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles and when he closes his eyes to press his lips to your hand you feel warm tears on your skin. 

You’re not sure what to say to him, but he looks at you with anticipation, waiting with silent breath for you to attack him, to berate him. He is ready for you to scream, cry, and break your few meager possessions. He would take your tantrum with grace, you know this. He would punish himself forever if you let him, if you gave the order. If you bit back with venom, turned away from him, tonight, for all your nights, he would think it fair. Even if you vowed to never forgive him for his indiscretion, vowed to never touch him, you doubt he would even think you cold for it. 

Your eyes are far away, out of focus, staring though your interlocked fingers, staring through his quiet grief. 

What do you say to his admission? “I forgive you”? “How many times”? “Did you love her”? “Do you love her”? 

You don’t ask it, because you know he did. He must have. He is Mikael. Whatever it was that he had with this woman… you know it was love, because Mikael follows his heart, he leads with honor. 

You stroke his cheek with your hand. His face is smooth from the straight razor shave he had desperately needed, and you remember that tonight is only the second night in months he’s lain in an actual bed. 

“You can not lie to me? Is that right?”

Mikael turns his head in your palm to kiss the inside of your hand, your fingers thread through his hair, nails scratching his clean scalp and freshly trimmed hair. He leans into the touch. 

“Are you disappointed to be wed to me, Mikael?” Now it is you who is whispering, though no one is around to overhear.

Mikael’s eyes burn with incredulity. “Maral, why would you say that?”

“I am only asking.” Your eyes fall to the marriage quilt your grandmother gifted you this morning, the fine stitches of tiny purple flowers, just like the kind Mikael would bring to you in the late afternoons, back when everything was planned, simple, and hemmed in squares like fairy tales.

“I am sorry for hurting you. I— perhaps I should have never said.” Mikael sighs heavily, “This is not the kind of wedding I hoped for.”

You hold back the tears that burn in your eyes and try to say as evenly as possible, “I see.” But your lip quivers and the dam bursts and a sob breaks out of you like steam from a valve. 

Mikael scoots closer to you and wraps you in his arms. “No, Maral. No I didn’t mean like that. Shhh,” He rubs your back soothingly and you don’t know why you’re still crying but it feels good to cry right now, it is a relief. All the ignored grief, all the loss, the unknown dead the missing living. One good thing about living outside of Siroun is you can sob freely into Mikael’s nightshirt without the neighbors hearing you fall to pieces on your wedding night. 

“I meant… Do you remember Lala’s wedding?” His chin rests on your head and he continues to rub your back, you nod your snotty nose into his shirt and hiccup. You can practically feel the way he smiles just from having your face over his heart. 

“Do you remember what she looked like? With her elegant dress and, oh, the flowers? The air was full of flowers that night.” His stokes are long and soothing on your back and the longer he speaks the more you melt into his embrace. “And the food, and the music. You looked so beautiful that night, my love. I will never forget as long as I live, the joy in your eyes when you danced with your sister.”

“What are you talking about Mikael?” Your face is still buried in his chest, you scratch his back softly in return. He’s never mentioned Lala’s wedding before, but it feels very important. The wistfulness of his voice makes you think that he’s sharing with you the memories that kept him alive and warm on terrible nights.

“You were wearing a purple dress… it blended into the twilight I remember, and you danced the Arak Bar with your sister… I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was her day, yes, but you were the one who was truly shining. I knew I wanted to marry you that night.” The last words are cautious and so becomes his touch. You know it is the shame and grief he holds for his betrayal. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to dance that night, Mikael?”

Mikael chuckles and kisses the top of your head, “I am a terrible dancer, my wife.”

You smile, your tears long gone and dry. You squeeze him around the middle and turn your head to kiss him on the neck, a few inches south of his adam’s apple. You let your lips stay in the same spot, savoring the texture of a few errant neck stubbles against the plush of your warm lips.

Mikael hums with great satisfaction, he rubs his warm thumb against your cheek softly. “That is the wedding I wanted for you, Maral. One you deserve. I am sorry. You deserved more, my love.” 

His sincerity rumbles under your lips. You give his throat a final kiss before rising up and pressing your mouth to his for the only the second time that day, only the second time ever. 

Mikael is gentle and patient like you knew he would be, his pretty eyes are closed softly and he lets you kiss him from above, licking into his mouth and testing the sweetness of his lips. His hands rest carefully on your waist, the only layer of fabric between his warm hands and your hips his the thin cotton of your nightgown. You push your body closer to his, and explore deeper with your tongue. 

He tastes better than you could have imagined. He is hot like the nectar of honeyed tea and he sticks to your lips just the same. He is not passive, but warm and giving. He smooths the sides of your hair and his hands cup the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You follow instinct and bring your body over his completely, bracing your knees on either side of his thighs and when the front of you makes contact with the front of him the grip on your neck goes rigid and he groans into your mouth. 

Liking the response, you do it again and again, pushing your lap onto his until his kissing verges on aggressive and he’s guiding your mouth with his fist gripping the base of your scalp. His reaction is warranted, you think, it does feel good. Good and hot, his sweet sticky lips making you sweet and hot and sticky where the front of you meets the front of him.

Mikael continues to kiss you and let you rock on his lap while he works your nightdress up your legs. The material is bunched at your waist now and he lays a flat palm over your abdomen, feeling the way your muscles contract there when you grind on him. You lift the nightgown over your head and gently toss it to the floor. Perhaps you won’t need a nightgown again for a very long time. Not here where there’s no one to interrupt your lovemaking, no one to hear your soft moans, save the dune beetles and owls and wolves safely on the outside of your cozy cabin. 

He skates the pads of his fingers up and down the bare flesh of your legs, clawing lightly up your ribcage and stroking your back. He lights every nerve ending with his touch like a blaze catching in a dry field. You work your hands under the hem of his shirt, stroking the warm dense flesh of his torso, trying to alight his nerves right back at him. 

You pull the soft tunic over his head, delighting in the way your nipples rub against his bare chest. You’re a mess of tongues and soft soothing fingers, you grab him by his soft dark curls, scooting and pushing ever closer to him, savoring each sensation as your bodies attempt to become one. 

He kisses with hot open attentions on your burning cheek and down the trembling column of your throat. His nose skims your collar bone, your shoulder, your sternum and your nails scrape his scalp as you try to make your shallow breaths deeper, not wanting to pass out and miss a single moment. 

“So beautiful, my love.” He kisses the top of your chest gently and you let your knees fall open even more on either side of his hips. His hardness is barely restrained in his linen pants and you attempt to tug the material down the sides of his wide hips which proves impossible from the way he is seated.

Mikael appears to be unaware of your intentions. He is focused for now on your chest, licking and suckling at your hardened nipples. You claw at his back in a primal ecstasy, subconsciously bringing his mouth closer to you and he jolts against you, releasing your nipple from his mouth in a groan that doesn’t sound fully pleasurable. 

“Are you alright, Mikael?”

“Mmmm, I— I am fine.” His voice is strained and his face is hidden between your breasts, forehead resting on your sternum. His shoulders are tense and when you drag your fingers lightly down his back to soothe him you can feel the rough and raised flesh, the heat of the tears and injuries sustained from torture. You caress the hateful lines tenderly, reading the story of suffering etched on the unconsenting canvas of his body. You are certain if there was more light you’d be met with bruises and batterings that are hidden in the eeking moonlight. 

“Oh, Mikael—“

“Shhh, I am fine, love. I am fine.” He meets the worry and pity in your eyes and closes his own to place a soft kiss to your lips, lifting his hips from underneath you and shoving the remaining barrier away from your bodies. You reach behind you to pull the sleep trousers down his legs till the garment joins your own on the floor and when you settle back onto his lap, oh gods you can truly experience the full heat of his cock nestled between your slick folds. 

You must feel hot to him as well because there is no mistaking his moan for anything but pleasure when you grind on him once more, kissing the noise from his mouth and sighing your own pleasure between his lips. 

He shifts his hips up to meet yours, your slickness gliding desperately on the length of his cock.

“Mikael,” you moan, breaking the kiss to rest your forehead on his. Your hips stuttering slick and rhythmic against him. Your noses brush and open-mouthed shallow breaths join the space between your lips, a primal need and heat guiding your movements on his loving lap.

“Am I— oh, am I doing this right?” You whisper with a hint of insecurity. 

“Yes. Yes, love. You’re perfect.”

“Mikael, mmmm, Mikael I want you inside of me.” You capture his lips with your own before the request is out, slightly embarrassed by your own desire.

Mikael groans and brings your hips up his groin slightly with his sure gripping hands. Hands that dried your tears, hands that picked you purple flowers. He takes himself in hand and lines his slick covered cock at your entrance, letting you shift back onto him at your own pace, breaking yourself open on your husband’s cock.

“Take your time, Maral. Take your time, love.” His words are patient despite his desperate tone and he seals his intentions with a soft kiss to your scrunched brow.

You bite your lip and lift from his torso slightly, hands braced on the meat of his chest, easing your throbbing cunt down onto him. It doesn’t hurt like you thought it might. Like you’d been warned it would. He feels perfect, he feels made for you, uniquely shaped for the hot throbbing inside of your center to pulse and squeeze on him; and the more you lower yourself, the deeper you need him. Your knees splay flat on the mattress when you’re fully seated and the tiniest thrusting back and forth feels like unmitigated love and ecstasy.

“Oh, Mikael…” you whimper, shifting on him. It’s incredible— every motion, every throb, every push and pull is hotter, better, wetter than the last. You snap your hips to his and nearly shake with the torturous relief. The taboo of sex that you’ve been taught your entire life makes no sense to you in this moment. It’s beautiful, serene yet wild and for a ludicrous instant you understand how even someone as good as Mikael could be tempted to break his morals for such act of hedonistic joy.

Your toes curl and your fingers dig into the flesh of his chest, giving you perfect leverage and balance to slide perfectly down to the base of his cock. Mikael is shaking, his hips rising strong and slow to meet your joining thrusts, Everything inside of you and outside of you is being rubbed just right, from the way Mikael kneads his thumbs into the dimples of your lower back, to the way his cock strokes your pulsing sensitive insides, to the way the base of him rubs against your clit.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect.” He encourages unsolicited. His moans are all yes’s and perfect’s and beautiful’s, encouraging your primal ministrations up and down, up and down his ever-hardening cock.

Your pace speeds up and you lay on his torso once more, letting him fuck up into you just right as you taste his lips for the hundredth time this evening, for the first night of many more to come.

Your hips chase the elusive peak, the one you can feel at the edges of your senses, but the pursuit doesn’t feel rushed. Mikael lifts his hips in perfect response to your unique rhythm, and you think he must be lying about being a bad dancer for he certainly has a talent for reading and following the lead of your body.  He continues the caress of his fingers over every bit of skin he can reach. He comforts and quiets your whines with his mouth and everything in you builds and builds like water behind a dam until it bursts in an instant, cascading down your skin like a warm summer river, like a plunge into a pool. You scream softly into Mikaels mouth, tensing and shaking with pleasure, sliding deeper and deeper onto him, into him, all over him, slick and hot and honey-filled, the waves of it shocking and pulsing like a frantic heartbeat that radiates from the core of you.

“Pefect, perfect, my beautiful, beautiful…” he praises effusively, tensing under you, holding your hips firmly against his own. He groans with relief, loud and strained, pulsing his seed into your slumped form as deeply as he can. The warring heartbeats of your pleasure throb, entwined, tied forever. 

The beating slows after a time, as does the speed of your breaths. The gentle thud of his heart under your ear quiets to a steady tempo and you hum the Arak Bar into his sparse chest hair, remembering Lala’s wedding night. Mikael strokes your sweat-cooled back. 

“I love you, Maral. With all my heart. I will earn your love. My word can not mean much to you right now, but I will prove it every day if you let me. I swear it.”

If you had more of a jealous heart, you could extend his suffering. You could dig your fingers into his wounds, dragging out his pain and guilt until you were satisfied with his penance. 

Mikael pulls your wedding quilt over your bodies, tucking the blanket around you lovingly. Your grandmother’s embroidered purple flowers brush against your cheek and you smile against his chest. 

“I love you too, Mikael,” you whisper before placing a tender kiss over his heart. 

[freelancearsonist]

Put Your Emptiness to Melody

Mikael Boghosian x fem!Reader

Rated MA for a comfort blowjob, indirect references to ptsd, maybe unhealthy coping mechanisms for said ptsd, and allusions to pregnancy/ttc

1,141 words

A/N: the first few paragraphs of this has been sitting in my wip folder for nearly a year and i finally got around to finishing it 😂 this is basically just porn without plot with a title taken from a hozier song (to noise making (sing)) and i regret nothing 😂i hope you all enjoy this quick little thing 🥺

“Mikael, my love. It is late,” you state with a soft smile. “Come to bed. Please. I cannot sleep without you, and I know my embrace relaxes you.”

Your husband sighs deeply but musters a smile, eyes flickering up to meet yours as he marks the page of the book he’s reading and sets it aside.

“I suppose you’re right,” he murmurs. You can hear the exhaustion in his tone, and it breaks your heart a little bit.

It breaks your heart even more that his swirling thoughts keep him awake even when he’s this tired.

You take his hand and pull him into the bedroom with little resistance, a soft smile on his worn face as your hands gently help him out of his clothes.

“Thank you again for making dinner tonight,” you tell him as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

He gets this way when he remembers too much. He needs to use his hands—keep himself busy to keep himself distracted. So you knew right away when you returned from errands and smelled dinner on the stove earlier that evening that he was having a bad day.

“It was nothing,” he shrugs bashfully. “Just wanted to do something nice for my beautiful wife.”

“How was your day?” It’s whispered against his collarbone between scattered kisses as you push his shirt off his shoulders.

He takes a moment, losing a deep sigh before he answers. “Long.”

“I can tell you had a rough day,” you tell him gently. “I’m sorry, my love. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just… stay with me.”

The poor darling is always so scared of losing you, as if he’ll wake up and you’ll have vanished completely. You can’t blame him, after everything he’s been through, but you wish you could help him know that you’re not going anywhere.

“I’m here,” you tell him as you tug on his belt. “I’m always gonna be here. I’m yours ‘til death do us part.”

He doesn’t tell you that you never know exactly how soon death may part the two of you—he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. Not when you’re helping him out of his pants and hooking your fingers in the waistband of his boxers.

“We’re a bit uneven here,” he points out with a boyish grin—it warms your heart to see his mood lifting already. “May I help you out of this nightgown?”

“You may,” you giggle. No matter how many times you do this, how long you’ve been together, he always makes you feel like a lovesick teenager.

You hum happily when he gently pulls your nightgown over your head, but you stop him when his lips instinctually fall to skim over the tops of your breasts.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” you insist gently as you push him back onto the mattress. “You’ve already done so much for me tonight, let me return the favor.”

Normally, Mikael loves to focus his attentions on you and bringing you pleasure—but he can’t deny that being the center of attention sounds nice right now. He wants to lose himself in your ministrations, and he’s sure you’ll be able to quiet his mind.

He lets out a muffled moan when your tongue slowly traces up his half-hard length, swirling around his tip before your lips envelope him.

It takes a matter of seconds before he’s completely hard and aching in your mouth, and you’ve always been proud of how quickly you can get him there.

“Ohhhh, darling…” it’s not spoken so much as it’s moaned, a companion sentence to the way his hands wind into your hair and and gently urge you to take him deeper.

“Is this what you’ve been needing today?” You purr before taking him a bit deeper, and a glance up has you smiling around his cock because all he can do is nod his head vigorously and hope it gets his point across.

He goes to squeeze his thighs together against the onslaught of pleasure but your hands are quicker and you push his legs further apart, spreading him open in a way that most men would find slightly uncomfortable but that Mikael has come to love.

He adores when you take control—when you position him exactly how you want him and do what you please. He always ends up satisfied when he lets you take charge.

And he’s certainly satisfied now, even before he’s reached his peak. You can see in the way his chest heaves and his legs twitch and his toes curl while you suck him as deep as your throat can handle. His curls are a mess from thrashing about against the pillow behind his head and you can’t deny that this is your favorite version of him. Nearly completely undone because of you, disheveled and not thinking about the life he’s lost or the worries of tomorrow.

He’s truly himself like this, and you think he’s beautiful.

You crawl up and sink down on his cock right as he’s about to finish and it does him in twofold—he bucks up against you and you have to seat most of your weight on his hips to keep him from flinging you across the room with the power of his thrusts as he fills you with load after load of his thick, warm cum.

“Christ,” he pants after a long few minutes of trying to regain his breath, and you can’t help the giggle you emit when you see the blissed out grin on his face.

You lean down and press your lips firmly to his, moaning against his mouth when his hands come around you to pull you down harder on his softening cock.

“You know, the whole ‘we can’t waste a drop’ thing was truly only for before you were with child,” he teases breathlessly, and it pulls an easy laugh from you.

“Maybe I just like feeling you fill me.”

“I like feeling me fill you.” He hums as he nuzzles into your neck, so sated that he can barely keep his eyes open. You’re sure he’s falling asleep so you go to roll to his side when his hands grip your hips firmly to keep you in place.

“Can I stay… within you tonight?”

“Of course, my love.” You press another kiss to his lips as his eyes flutter shut, the day’s stress finally vanishing from his expression. Like this, nestled safely within your folds, it’s hard to imagine you vanishing while he sleeps. It’s why he can finally drift off as your fingers gently pet and play with his hair, and why he sleeps all the way through the night for the first time in a long time.

THE END

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

(not necessarily written in August, but that's when I read 'em!)

🎀 - fluff ☔ - angst 🍑 - smut

Ahhhhhhhhh!!!! These fics. Brain EMPTY. ONLY THESE.

🍑The Eyeliner (Blue Jones X F!Reader) - @wysteria-clad

☔🍑Marriage Quilt (Mikael Boghosian x F!Reader) - @foxilayde

🍑 Yearning (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

☔Not Allowed (Llewyn Davis X GN!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

🎀☔🍑 Hung The Moon Series (Moon Boys X F!Reader) - @pleasurebuttonwrites

🎀☔🍑Two Steps Forward (Moon Boys X F!Reader) - @howaboutcastiel

🎀 A Healthy Alternative for Melatonin (Marc Spector x GN! Reader) - @monsterwho

🍑French Lessons Series (Steven Grant X F!Reader) - @thot-of-khonshu

🎀Satellite (Jake Lockley x Reader) - @scarabgrant

🎀☔P.S. I love you! (Steven Grant X GN!Reader a little Marc Spector X GN!Reader) - @nowritingonthewall

🎀 A marriage headcanon for Steven (Steven Grant X GN!Reader) - @nowritingonthewall

🍑Dizzy, Drunk* (Jake Lockley X F!Reader) - @juneknight

🍑 Beautiful Boy (Steven Grant X GN!Reader) - @luvpedropascal

🎀☔🍑Hands Meant For Love (Marc Spector X GN!Reader) - @losermultifandomidiot

🎀☔Moon boys calling reader by their name prank (gone wrong) [Part 1] [Part 2] (Moon Boys X Reader) - @babylockley

🎀Prompt: Could you write one where Steven teaches Marc how to braid Layla’s hair? (Moon Boys X Layla El-Faouly) - @tiptapricot

🎀When they decided you are 'The one' (Moon Boys X Reader) - @wysteria-clad

🎀The Promotion (Steven Grant X Reader) - @runa-fallss

🍑Sharing is Caring 🍑💦 (Marc (Moon Bois) x Layla x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme

🍑 Get Lucky  (Poe Dameron X F!Reader) - @campingwiththecharmingss

☔Prompt: our muses shower together after something traumatic for comfort and emotional intimacy, bonus points if they aren’t even together romantically yet (Poe Dameron X Reader) - @stormkobra-5

🎀The Simulation (Poe Dameron X F!Reader) - @spctrsgf

🎀 Poe's Favorite Story (Poe Dameron X F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

🎀Love is a Game (For Fools to Play) (Poe Dameron X Reader) - @campingwiththecharmings

They are all SO GOOD!

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

A december writing challenge that I will try. If you want to send me one of Oscar Isaac’s characters and a day to write for, go ahead! If I don’t get any prompts, I will be writing my own choices. Ask me if you wanna be tagged!

Female reader or GN reader only please!

I’m more comfortable with female reader, but I can easily write gender neutral. Male reader, however, I am NOT comfortable writing for too many reasons to state here.

Just a warning, I’m not big on cities, so this will feature mainly rural/country settings.

Warning. There may be religious themes in some of these, which I will tag accordingly.

** indicates smut, both light and heavy.

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate flavored kisses. (Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader)

Day 2 - Frozen Lake || Cold hands, Scarves, and Snow.(Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader) **

Day 3 - Hot Chocolate || Marshmallows, warm hands, and soft smiles.(Abel Morales x fem!reader)**

Day 4 - Cozy Cabin || Patterned rugs, soft blankets, and warm baths.( Santiago Garcia x wife!fem!reader)

Day 5 - Fire Places || Fuzzy socks, soft rugs, and hands intertwined.(Pt.2! Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader .sequel to You’re handsome with snowflakes in your beard.)

Day 6 - Blanket Fort || Fluffy pillows, movies, and snacks(Modern!Poe Dameron x pregnant!fem!wife!reader)

Day 7 - Catching a cold  || Tissues, savory soup, and cuddles.(Llewyn Davis x fem!reader)

Day 8 - Snowed In || Candles, snow drifts, and quiet.(Mikael Boghosian x fem!reader)

Day 9 - Sledding || biting wind, cold noses, and laughter(Laurent Leclaire x fem!reader. Canon era.)

Day 10  - Winter Market || Murmuring crowds, rows of stalls, and the smell of food.(Blue Jones x gn!reader)

Day 11 - Snowball Fight || Heavy breathing, footprints in the snow, and warm hugs.( Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader. Part 2! sequel to Kisses of Chocolate.)

Day 12 - Lonely  || Gloomy skies, soft blankets, and a warm fire. ( William Tell x fem!reader)

Day 13 - Warm Bath || Bubble bath, soft music, and gentle hands. (Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader. Part 3! )

Day 14 - Homemade Meal/Cooking || Savory spices, hot meals, and family. (Mikael Boghosian x wife!reader)

Day 15 - Sleigh Ride || Sleigh bells, foggy breath, and the smell of cedar.(Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Day 16 - Mistletoe || Warm lights, smoke, and friends.(Jonathan Levy x fem!reader)

Day 17 - Gingerbread || Icing on their cheek, smell of cinnamon, and playful kisses.

Day 18 - Sunsets || Golden hour, towering pine trees, and warm coats.

Day 19 - Movie Nights || Laughter, snacks, and cuddles. (Nathan Bateman x fem!reader.)

Day 20 - Hiking || Rough ground, crisp morning air, and sunrises.

Day 21 - Sweaters || Cozy feelings, goosebumps, and comforting hands.

Day 22 - Unique Traditions || Smiles, acceptance, and making memories.

Day 23 - Proposal || Nerves, candles, and a tasty meal.

Day 24 - Holiday Traffic || Car horns, comforting words, and snow.

Day 25 - Lazy Mornings || Soft blankets, familiar arms, and the morning light.

Day 26 -Furry Friends || Shining eyes, the pitter - patter of paws, and that fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Day 27 - Roasting Marshmallows || Roaring bonfires, laughter of friends, and gooey marshmallows.

Day 28 - Huddle for Warmth || Warm bodies, steady breaths, and comforting feelings.

Day 29 - Holiday Lights || Holiday music, bright colors, and joy.

Day 30 - Fireworks || Loud booms, sparkling light, and a breathtaking kiss.

Day 31 - Wild Card || write anything you want!(Victoriano ‘El Catorce’ Ramirez x fem!reader)

[honeylikewords]

oh boy it’s the 9 o’clock news

It is 9 pm on a Sunday night, so consider this a news-broadcast PSA:  I am now expanding this blog from just Jon-related things to works that encompass the gamut of Oscar-boys, too!

I’m a big Oscar Isaac fan and I’ve been writing about Miguel and Poe for a hot minute here, but I’m also going to do stuff for his more, let’s say, ‘rare’ or ‘underappreciated’ roles.

I’m going to do a quick breakdown here of the Oscar characters I’m familiar with (from films of his I’ve seen so far), and if there are roles that aren’t listed, I haven’t seen them yet! Any ones I’m not going to write about will be at the bottom, explicitly stated as not being written about. 

So, without further ado, here’s the list so far!

1. Miguel O’Hara, Marvel Cinematic Universe and Comics: I’ve already written about Miggy on here, and you all know I love and adore him. However, for anyone who missed it, here’s a brief synopsis about Miguel. Miguel O’Hara is a version of Spider-Man in the Marvel Comics Universe AND, now, the Marvel Cinematic Universe. He appeared briefly as the after-credits scene in Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse, where he was played by Oscar. Miguel comes from the year 2099 and is a completely unique Spider-Person, not only in terms of his range of powers, but his personality. Miguel is intelligent, sarcastic, determined, and passionate.

2. Poe Dameron, Star Wars: You know him, you love him, and he’s an iconic staple of the newest Star Wars trilogy. One of the most (if not the absolute) recognizable of Oscar’s roles, Poe is a hot-shot X-Wing pilot with a sharp tongue, warm heart, and intense desire to bring light and freedom to the galaxy. Poe is kind, excitable, comedic, and playful.

3. Orestes, Agora: A ‘rare’ or, more aptly, underappreciated role of Oscar’s, Orestes is the prefect of Alexandria. Orestes is boyish and clever, with a quick mind and a loving heart. He is loyal, driven, tender, and thoughtful.

4. Reeves, 10 Years: Another underappreciated role of Oscar’s, Reeves is a successful musician whose folk-style songs have become major hits across the U.S., and he is often on tour. Reeves is a nostalgic, sweet, humble, and affectionate.

(gif source)

5. Standard Gabriel, Drive: Oscar was SO underused in his role in Drive. Standard Gabriel is a down-to-earth man recently released from prison; he loves his family, adoring his son, and would do anything to keep them safe. Standard is protective, modest, loving and introspective. 

6. Rydal Keener, The Two Faces of January: Rydal Keener is an American working in Greece as a tour guide, having recently graduated college. Rydal enjoys poetry and history. Rydal is witty, youthful, romantic, and intense.

7. Abel Morales, A Most Violent Year: Abel is a Mexican-American businessman in New York; his business is successful, but he is frequently bullied by other businesses, though he is determined to stand up against them. Abel is gentle, good-hearted, noble, and focused.

8. Mikael Boghosian, The Promise: Mikael is an Armenian doctor whose purpose in life is to heal and help others. He is generous and romantic, guided by his passionate heart. Mikael is sensitive, devoted, kindly, and soothing.

9. Llewyn Davis, Inside Llewyn Davis: Llewyn is a down-on-his-luck performer whose love of folk music takes him wherever the wind blows. He is struggling but trying to mature, despite being weighed down by tragedies and inner conflict. Llewyn is sardonic, dreaming, rash, and lonesome.

10. Robbie Paulson, Law & Order: Criminal Intent: A very minor, very early role of Oscar’s, Robbie is a nurse working in New York. He is the unfortunate victim of mental manipulation, but now free and on his way towards true healing. Robbie is child-like, enthusiastic, ardent, and a little needy.

11. Bud Cooper, Suburbicon: Yet another grievously underused Oscar performance, Bud is an insurance claims investigator in Los Angeles. (We’re ignoring canon on this one, lads.) Bud is teasing, goofy, strategic and fun.

12. Shiv, Pu-239: Another minor Oscar role, Shiv is a young Russian man trying to make ends meet in post-Soviet Moscow. (We’re also ignoring canon on this one. For Reasons.) Shiv is guileless, heartfelt, sincere and charming.

13. Basil Stitt, Lightningface: One of two short-film roles Oscar has been in, Basil is a (presumably) New York businessman who is one day struck by lightning, scarring half of his face terribly. He goes into shock and locks himself in an apartment, beginning a journey of hallucinatory self-investigation. Basil is self-conscious, anxious, melodramatic, and curious. 

14. Lucien, Ticky-Tacky: The other of the short-film roles, Lucien is a rich man with incredible mood swings and dramatic behaviors. Lucien is juvenile, erratic, tempestuous, and clingy.

15. John “Jack” Jackson, Mojave: An American veteran with an incredible mind (gone rogue) and taste for literature, Jack wanders the wilderness of the Mojave desert, stirring up trouble. Jack is astute, comical, fiery, and singular.

There are more Oscars I’d like to write about (such as Outcome #3 from The Bourne Legacy, Will Dempsey from Life Itself, Michael Perry from Won’t Back Down, Evgeni from W.E.), but I still am catching up with his filmography!

Here, however, are the Oscars I won’t be writing about.

1. Nathan Bateman, Ex Machina.

2. Blue Jones, Sucker Punch.

3. Prince John/John, King of England, Robin Hood.

Anyway, that’s the list so far! Keep an eye out for these names and these boys, and let me know if you want to know more about them (TL;DRs for their plots, headcanons I have for them, plot derivations I have for them, etc), or if there’s a different Oscar you’d like to see me talk about who wasn’t mentioned here!

[freelancearsonist]

‘Til Death Do They Part

Mikael Boghosian x fem!Reader

Rated MA for graphic sexual content and use of language

7,122 words

A/N: I just have so much to say about this. It’s my longest piece to date. As such, it’s the piece I’ve consistently worked on for the longest amount of time. I fell in love with this character instantly, and I seriously have to thank @damndamer0n and @damerondjarin for listening to me ramble about this incessantly for the past week. I really hope you all enjoy this, and I would seriously appreciate any feedback you’re willing to leave :)

A year can’t erase a decade of history. You know this better than anyone.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to believe that you’re still on Mikael’s mind after all the months he’s been gone.

Not that you can blame him for leaving. He had hopes and dreams, and they couldn’t be fulfilled in Siroun. Still, the announcement of his journey to Constantinople broke your heart.

Actually, the announcement of his engagement broke your heart.

Again, you can’t blame him for it. If he wanted to go to medical school, he needed money. It was a price your own father couldn’t afford.

You always knew things would never work for the two of you, anyway. It was a nice dream, but it wasn’t realistic. It was a childish fantasy. You always knew it would pass you by eventually.

You wish you could say that you’ve moved on in the year he’s been gone. That you found someone who loves you as much as he used to. But that’s not possible. No one will ever love you like Mikael Boghosian. And you’ll never be able to love anyone else the way you love him.

And maybe, deep down, he knows this. Maybe this knowledge is why he shows up on your doorstep, bearded and dirty, a desperate and lost sheen to his normally bright brown eyes.

He cries as you pull him into your arms, and you want to scold yourself. Whatever the two of you had is gone. He’s betrothed now.

But you’re willing to push Maral far out of your mind when he’s clutching desperately at your shoulders and pressing his face into your neck. He’s chosen you over his fiancée, even after all this time.

“How are you here?” You sigh, taking his handsome, dirty, bearded face in your hands. “The Turks... they’re everywhere. How did you get past them?”

He just shivers and sinks further into your embrace, and you realize that you might not want to know. All that matters is that he’s here, right now.

“Mikael, you stink like a dead cow,” you deadpan, and he snorts into your shoulder. “Let me draw you a bath.”

“Okay.” His voice is weak and tired, and your heart breaks for him all over again.

Your little bathroom is just big enough for the two of you, and Mikael doesn’t shy away from stripping down in front of you. Still, you divert your eyes—you’ve always dreamed of seeing him naked, but this doesn’t seem quite right.

You look only at his face as you go about fetching him soap and a towel, but how desperately you yearn to let your eyes flicker down his chest and over his legs, even as the water absorbs the dirt and grime from his skin and distorts your view.

“I missed you.” His voice is gravelly and rough, and although it’s different than you’re used to, you love it. You love him.

“You shouldn’t have,” you sigh, scooting behind him so you can pour water over his gorgeous curls. “You have other priorities now, no?”

He tilts his head to look up at you, rather looking like a wet horse with his hair flattened against his head. “You have always been my priority.”

And then he leans his head forward, groaning pleasantly as your fingers work into his curls and start massaging soap into his scalp.

“My engagement doesn’t change my feelings for you.”

You can’t help laughing at that. Mikael is a sweet man, and he would never hurt anyone on purpose. He doesn’t realize that he’s stabbing you right in the heart.

“It should, Mikael. You’re not engaged to me. You shouldn’t love me.”

“And yet I do.” His voice is the firmest it’s been since he entered your home, and you have no doubt he’s telling the truth. And even if he isn’t, it’s a nice lie to believe.

“You’re an idiot,” you sigh, but your smile contradicts your tone. “An absolute fool, and I love you. I’m so glad you’ve come home.”

He shivers when he feels your breath on his neck, and a year’s worth of tension and stress rushes out of his body when he feels your lips on his skin. He reaches behind himself and grabs your arms, pulls them tightly around his chest, and you gladly hold him as you kiss his neck.

Siroun isn’t his home. You are.

And yet...

“I am to marry Maral tomorrow.”

You pull your hands away from him like he’s an errant flame; like he’s burned you. He has.

“No,” you whisper, feeling foolish for believing that the two of you could finally have a moment with no complications. “Mikael, please.”

“I have no choice in the matter,” he insists, but it does little to make you feel better.

“Please,” you repeat. “Don’t do this.”

He sighs heavily, his head bowed because he can’t bring himself to look at you. “If you had said this one year ago, I would not have hesitated to call off the engagement. I would have stayed here with you and never breathed another word of schooling. It’s too late now. I can’t repay the dowry. The gold... it’s gone.”

You wipe your hands dry on your skirt as you push yourself to your feet.

You know he would’ve stayed if you asked him to. That’s why you never asked.

“I’ll leave you to finish bathing,” you announce, your voice thick with pent-up tears. “Take as long as you need.”

He grunts his protest as you slip out the door, but there isn’t much he can do naked and slippery.

Besides, he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows you’ll be better off with a few minutes alone to cool down.

He takes his time, working the dirt and grime of nearly six months out of every crease and pore. The water grows cold long before he’s done, but he can’t be bothered to care. When he arrived last night, he was far too exhausted to clean himself. Now that he’s gotten a good night’s sleep, he can focus on finally unclogging himself of dust and mud.

His mind is plagued with regret. More than anything, he wishes he had never gone to Constantinople. So much suffering, so much pain, could have been avoided. A year ago, he thought it would be a prison to stay in Siroun as an apothecary. Now, he’s sure he could’ve done it. He would have married you and stayed with his family. He never would’ve had to worry about Maral or forced labor or anything but caring for his people.

It’s too late, though. His fate is sealed now. And it’s taking him far away from you.

When the water’s too cold and he’s confident that the dirt is gone, he dries off with the towel you left and he goes to find you.

The last thing you expect to see when you turn around is the man you love, with only a towel wrapped tightly around his wide hips. You indulge yourself for only a few seconds—you let your eyes dart over his toned chest and absorb the sight of his bronzed skin and the dark hair below his belly button. And then you quickly turn back around, leaning against the counter as you watch the flames from the cooktop gently lick at the base of the kettle you’ve put on.

“Why are you here, Mikael?” Your voice wavers, defeated. “Why... why even bother with me? Surely you should be preparing with your wife.”

He shakes his head firmly, even though you’re facing away from him. “She’s not my wife. Not yet.”

“That doesn’t mean you should be any less devoted to her.”

Your words sting a little bit, and he knows you’re right. You always are.

“One year ago, I told my mama that I could grow to love Maral,” he sighs heavily, taking a step closer to you. “But... I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know if I can fall in love again when my heart belongs to you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, tears clogging up the ability to speak. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he promises, his voice low and apologetic.

“I know,” you sigh. You brush your fingertips over your eyes and turn to face him, wiping your sweaty palms on the front of your skirt. You busy yourself with collecting two teacups, and you can feel his eyes on you as you speak. “I know. You... you don’t have any choice. You can’t break your promise.”

Mikael holds himself to an incredibly high standard. He’s a good man. He wouldn’t seriously consider breaking such a weighty vow.

“I just... I wish things were different,” you sigh, bowing your head so he can’t see the tears that now flow freely down your cheeks.

Mikael’s touch is gentle as he carefully takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If I could, I wouldn’t hesitate to repay the dowry. No matter the repercussions. Even after all this time, I want your hand more than anything.”

You’ve never doubted his devotion to you. And that’s what hurts the most. Mikael is an honest and loyal man. You know that his dedication will focus on Maral once their vows are exchanged.

She couldn’t ask for a better husband. And the second they’re married, he won’t think of another woman without genuinely feeling guilty for it. He’ll love her. He’ll learn to love her.

But they aren’t married. Not yet. And that’s the exact point Mikael was trying to make earlier, before you realized what this situation allowed.

Tomorrow, he’s Maral’s. For the rest of her life—‘til death do they part. But today... today, he’s yours.

“Why are you here, Mikael?” Your voice is considerably softer as you repeat your previous question. It’s different now, though. It’s different because you already know his answer. You’re just desperate for him to say it. You’re desperate for the words to materialize—to be spoken rather than implied.

“If I live the rest of my life without knowing your touch...” He takes a deep breath and a step closer, nearly eliminating all the space between your bodies. “I’ll never have lived at all.”

This is it. This is the only chance you’ll ever get to truly love the man you love.

You extinguish the flame on the cooktop; tea is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

Perhaps you should feel terrible. Maral’s a nice girl, after all, and she doesn’t know about you and Mikael. But as his lips crash down to yours and your hands desperately clutch at the back of his neck to pull him closer, guilt is the furthest thing from your mind. This feels right. Of all the stolen kisses you’ve shared with him, none of them have ever felt so perfect. So necessary.

“If you don’t want me-“

But you cut off his worries with another searing kiss, your tongue swiping against his own as you desperately try to probe deeper and memorize every detail of him you can. After all, this one moment will have to last you for the rest of your life.

Besides, how ridiculous is it for him to think you wouldn’t want him? You’ve spent the greater portion of your life sneaking around with him. Now, in the privacy of your home, you’re finally able to have him. You would be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

His fingertips are gentle against your cheeks as he slowly wipes your tears away, and then he turns you around and presses his lips to the base of your neck. You feel his hands on the buttons of your dress, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“May I?”

You nod as he hooks his bearded chin over your shoulder, delighting in the way your hand smooths over his scratchy facial hair before reaching up into his soft curls.

Suddenly, it feels ridiculous that the two of you have never taken this step in your relationship before. You’ve loved him for many years—thought about what this connection with him might feel like when you’re too pent up to sleep.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against the back of your neck as his fingers work quickly at your dress’ fastenings. “Many nights I’ve dreamt of undressing you.”

“Have you thought of touching me?” You ask quietly, sighing at the feeling of his lips as they travel up your neck to your pulse point.

“More times than I can count,” he mumbles. And then his thick fingers are pushing your dress over your shoulders—letting the material drop to the ground and pool at your feet.

His eyes rove hungrily over your exposed shoulders, but he doesn’t move to remove your slip just yet. He’s taking his time, memorizing the way you look and feel. He needs to make this memory last.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” you hum as his fingertips ghost over your skin. “I’ve thought about how you’d feel. How you’d taste. I only regret not doing this sooner. Years ago, when we would’ve had plenty of time to do it again and again and again.”

You exhale sharply when you see the tears on his face. Your fingers are gentle as you brush over his cheekbones, the coarse hair of his beard slightly scratchy but not entirely unpleasant.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he mumbles as he wraps himself around you, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. “I wish I never had.”

You know he’s telling you the truth. If there’s one thing that Mikael isn’t, it’s a liar. He’s a good, honest man.

“Make love to me,” you beg, your voice little more than a whisper as you run your fingers through his damp curls. “Just this once. Before you leave my life forever.”

“I’ve wanted nothing more for years,” he mumbles against your skin. But then his words turn to kisses, languid licks against your collarbone as his fingers shift to work at your undergarments.

You press your lips eagerly to his as you feel heat growing in the pit of your stomach. His mouth is warm and welcoming, excitedly accepting your tongue when you lick at his full bottom lip.

You clutch tightly to his strong shoulders as you step out of your dress and slip, left in nothing but a pair of panties and a soft silky bra.

Mikael groans when your lips disappear from his, dark eyes fluttering shut to see why your touch has vanished from his body.

He sees you on your knees for him, preparing for the ultimate act of worship. Your fingers skim over his calf and up his knee, nearly ticklish. But you don’t stray under the towel at all—you focus on the tent forming under the soft fabric at the apex of his legs, all because of you.

“I wish to taste you,” you whisper, skimming your fingers up his thigh and over his hip to gently grasp the little section of towel that’s folded to hold the makeshift garment in place. “I want to pleasure you with my tongue.”

He groans quietly at your offer, a hand smoothing over his thick beard as you watch his cock twitch beneath the towel.

“You... don’t have to,” he reminds you, and you gently capture one of his hands with yours.

“I know,” you reassure him with a soft smile. “I’d like to.”

His dark eyes shine with adoration as he nods, and you gently pull on the knot to let the towel fall to the floor.

His cock stands proudly even though he’s not completely hard yet, and your mouth instantly starts watering. He’s big, thick and long, his smooth head already pearling with precum. You can almost hear the prominent veins of his shaft thrumming with blood under your gaze.

His fingers intertwine with yours as your other palm flattens against his hip, gently caressing all of the new skin that he’s never revealed to you before.

You’re not entirely sure how to do this. You’ve lived in Siroun all your life, where the men are godly and fornication is virtually unheard of. You’re supposed to be saving yourself for marriage.

The thing is, though... there’s no one else you could even consider marrying. Your chances of being happy will die when Mikael exchanges vows with Maral.

This is the closest you’ll ever get to him. There is no more sacred bond than the joining of two bodies.

The first lick is tentative, a slight flick of your tongue against the head of his cock, and it draws a quiet moan from his lips. His taste is sweet, a nectar you’ve never experienced, and it makes you hum contentedly.

And then you gently take him between your fingers and run your tongue from the very base of his underside all the way up to his frenulum. His groan is louder this time, his grip on your hand tightening for a second.

“My love,” he gasps, hips unconsciously chasing your mouth when you lean back to take a breath. “Please.”

You smooth a hand over his hip and around his backside, digging your nails gently into his backside to tug him closer. Your lips finally envelop his head, your tongue tracing around the swollen muscle as you take him in.

And then you pull back again. “How does that feel?”

“Wonderful,” he laughs shakily. “Heavenly. Please... don’t stop.”

You obey willingly, dipping your mouth back to his throbbing cock. You take him deeper this time, nearly testing your throat, before bobbing along the first few inches of him.

And then you take him as deep as possible, and he nearly sobs when he brushes against the back of your throat. You try your hardest not to gag on him—you want so desperately to prove yourself the perfect woman—but you get a bit too ambitious and you have to pull off before you choke on him.

His free hand brushes over your hair and down your cheek, eyes shining with awe and adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, voice wavering like a man speaking to God himself. “So beautiful. May I pleasure you now?”

You nod, leaning into his touch, and he lets go of your hand so he can help you to your feet.

His lips crash to yours once you’re standing, arms wrapping around you and gathering you as close as he possibly can. You can feel his prominent length against your hip as his tongue slides against yours.

“Mikael,” you gasp, melting readily into his wonderful touch. “Please. I need you.”

“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises, nuzzling his bearded face into your neck as he trails tender kisses over your heated flesh. “Will you lay down for me?”

You nod and reluctantly pull out of his grasp, putting a bit of a swing in your step as you head towards your bedroom. You can feel his eyes on you as you walk, hungry and ravenous and desperate for you. Drinking in the sight as if he’ll never see it again—because he won’t.

“How would you have me pleasure you?” He asks softly as you fall backwards onto your mattress, the metal frame protesting the sudden movement as you bounce further up to lay against the pillows.

“However you’re willing to,” you mumble. It seems silly to feel so self-conscious under his intense gaze when you still have your undergarments on and he’s completely bare, but you automatically clasp your legs together and cross your arms over your chest.

“Spread yourself for me, then, so I can taste you,” he instructs with a soft smile. “Please.”

His hand is gentle on your ankle as you lay back and part your thighs wide enough to let him between them.

The bed frame squeals underneath his weight as he crawls onto the bed and kneels between your thighs, lips just barely ghosting against your shin and up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he reaches the apex of your legs, but he kisses around your hips and up your belly, straight through the valley of your breasts until his mouth finally finds yours again.

The kiss is slow and deep while still burning like a fire, like the first few embers to light before the whole forest is ablaze. His tongue runs flat along each of your teeth, taking time to feel out each dip and imperfection. He wants to touch and feel and taste every part of you possible.

His hands slide over your sides, pawing at the soft fabric of your bra, and you sit up to assist him with removing it when he lets out a helpless huff of laughter.

His touch remains gentle as he lets his fingers ghost over your breasts, your body the first softness he’s encountered in something like six months.

“Mikael,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip and arching your chest towards him when his fingers carefully pull at your nipples.

“Does that feel good?” He asks quietly, a smile lighting his eyes when you nod frantically. He dips his mouth to your chest—lets his teeth graze against one of the sensitive buds before enveloping it between his soft lips and giving it a hard suck. His beard tickles the flesh of your lower rib cage as his teeth again ghost against your flesh, pulling another moan from you.

One of his large hands splays across your ribs, right below your breasts, and it sends a shiver down your spine when it slowly starts to move downward. But he halts at the waistband of your underwear, dark eyes darting up to yours and seeking permission.

“Are you sure?” His voice is raspy with lust and adoration—raspy with need.

You nod firmly as his fingertips grasp the fabric. “I need to know you in this way.”

He takes the garment off slowly, eyes darkening considerably as he takes in the sight of your soaked folds. His tongue unconsciously darts out to wet his lips, letting your underwear fall to the floor without a care for where the piece of clothing lands. His eyes are glued on you yet roaming, darting between your slick heat and your heaving breasts and your gaping mouth.

And then he leans down, lips glinting so delicately against your thigh that you’re not even sure he makes contact. He touches you like you’re brittle, like you’ll break if he’s too rough with you. Perhaps you will. Perhaps he’s breaking you even though his hands are careful and cautious.

With surgical precision, he finally levels his mouth with your cunt. The first lick is tentative—trying to find what makes you tick because he can only learn so much from anatomy textbooks. He knows exactly where your clit is, though, and he puts his fingers to good work against it—delighting in your breathless whines and the way you writhe at his touch.

His beard presses deliciously into your silky thighs, scratching and making you shiver and you know there will be marks later but you can’t be bothered to care of such trivial things when the man you love is between your legs, licking at your pussy like he’s starving. And he is. He’s starving for you.

“Mikael,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into your hair because you don’t know what else to grab onto.

“How does it feel?” He hums into you, sending sparks straight to your spine.

“Good,” you gasp as he delivers a firm lick to your clit. “God, so good.”

He chuckles quietly, satisfied with himself as he licks a long stripe all the way from your slit to your clit. He makes a grotesque, wet noise as he sucks the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, and an even more grotesque noise as he releases it. You can’t be bothered to be embarrassed about how wet you are or the noises you make when your lover is doing such a good job.

And then he delves a finger into your folds, gently probing into your entrance. He groans louder than you do.

“So tight,” he mumbles as he slowly starts thrusting his finger. “Have you never been penetrated before?”

Your face burns as he fucks his digit into you. “Only by my own fingers.”

Such a question for him to ask when he should know that he’s the only person you’d ever dream of letting do this to you.

“Hey.” His hand is soft as it slides up your chest to cup your face. “You need not be embarrassed. I’ve never done this act in its entirety before, either.”

“Such talent for your first,” you groan as he crooks his finger just right. “You didn’t take a lover in Constantinople?”

He shakes his head firmly as he continues massaging you, his lips ghosting against your collarbone now that he’s leveled his body with yours.

“There was a girl. Ana. Not just a lover... a good friend. She let me kiss her the way that you do,” he explains softly.

You bite your lip at his confession. “And you didn’t bed her?”

“I tried to, I suppose. She was good at making me forget... at making the world fade away,” he laughs softly. His dark eyes shine with amusement and a little hint of sadness as he pushes another deliciously thick finger into you.

You bite back a moan, eager to hear if he betrayed your love. “What happened?”

He presses his lips together in a thin smile as the coarse pad of his thumb swipes against your clit. “I moaned your name instead of hers.”

That certainly isn’t betrayal. Not of your love, anyway. The fact that he would think of you with another woman almost makes your heart swell. And the fact that he loves you too much to fornicate with another woman, even just once, does make your heart swell.

“We are both wrecks for each other, then,” you gasp as his two fingers brush against the most delicious spot within you that your own fingers have never been able to find. “Oh, Mikael, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my love.” And then he bends his fingers upwards again, brushing continuously at that wonderful spot like an artist trying to capture a likeness on canvas—but he doesn’t believe that there’s any art more beautiful than your pleasure.

“Oh, God,” you whine as your hips involuntarily buck upwards. “It’s... it’s too good. I’m going to—“

“That’s it,” he coos, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he focuses on expertly manipulating his fingers within you. His thumb brushes over your clit again, and your entire body jerks. “I want you to experience your peak on my fingers.”

Your body jerks again as your orgasm washes over you, fluttering through your very bones like a freshly cast blanket over a mattress. His body’s weight against you keeps you grounded as if you would fly straight into the atmosphere without his head on your shoulder and his hips pressing into your thigh.

“Your touch...” you shutter pleasantly as you feel him rut against your thigh to relieve his own pressure. “Is unlike any other pleasure known to mankind.”

“You could invite to bed a worse lover than a man who studies anatomy,” he laughs softly, pressing his lips to the hollow of your neck and your pulse point and your jaw.

“Thank you,” you gasp, hands clutching onto his face as you pull his lips to meet yours. You control the pace of this kiss—it’s much more heated and desperate, tongues thrashing together as he shifts between your legs.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he sighs as he brushes his thumb through your slick folds. “Bringing you to the height of pleasure is the only worthwhile thing I’ve done.”

As much as he yearns to be inside of you—to feel your walls convulse around him as he brings you back to your peak—he’s hesitant to move on. Every passing moment is a moment closer to the last time he’ll see you. Every step further is a step towards the end for the two of you.

You sense his hesitance, and you tenderly brush your thumb across his cheekbone. “If you don’t want to do this—“

“I want this more than anything,” he tells you firmly, eyes brimming with tears. “But I never want it to end.”

“Sweet, lovely man,” you sigh, laughing a little bit as you feel tears emerging from your own eyes. “Our story has been a tragedy since the very beginning. Better to not waste a moment of our time together than to hesitate too long and regret it.”

He knows you’re right. His parents don’t know where he is, and there are many preparations to make before he and Maral go to the cabin. Each moment he spends with you is stolen, and he can’t take a single second of this time for granted.

“I always figured it would be different,” he sighs as he takes his cock in his hand. He strokes himself slowly, the cords of muscle in his neck shifting as you prop your knees up and plant your feet firmly on the mattress. “I always thought this would take place on our wedding night, after you’ve assumed my name.”

“Make no mistake,” you sigh as you throw your arms up over your head. Your stance is open and inviting, welcoming him to put his hands on you anywhere he will. “We may not be wed, and we may not share surnames. But I will always be yours. Nothing and no amount of time will ever be able to change that complex fact.”

Mikael’s eyes shine with a fresh wave of tears as scoops an arm under you to tug your hips up off the mattress. “And I am yours. No matter what happens... no matter the fact that I must marry another. My heart and my soul belong to you forever.”

He sits up on his knees, your body pulled to his in the form of a bridge, and he slowly guides his cock to enter you.

You gasp at the blunt pressure of him and press your head into the pillows even as your spine arches to accommodate this odd yet wonderful position he’s shaped your bodies into.

“Oh, God,” he chokes. His eyes flutter shut as he pauses halfway inside of you, your walls fluttering as you stretch to fit his size. “So... so tight. Am I... am I hurting you?”

You shake your head, every other muscle in your body locked to hold this position. He falls forward over you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you lifted to him while he supports his weight with the other arm. His mouth captures the top of one of your breasts, teeth digging in slightly as he fights the urge to throw pretense out the window and start thrusting with reckless abandon.

“Please,” you gasp. Your voice is nothing more than a weak whimper, but you don’t care. He’s splitting you open, and it feels so good. “Please, my love. Move.”

He whimpers as he withdraws himself nearly all the way, the very entrance of your cunt providing an intoxicating friction against the head of his cock. He thrusts back in slowly, but he still holds back his full length. He’s testing the waters—warming you up to take him as deep as you possibly can.

He buries his face in the valley of your breasts as he starts a slow tempo, and he groans when your hands settle into his hair and tug slightly.

“Sorry,” you gasp sheepishly, afraid that you’ve hurt him.

“No,” he pants, rutting into you with a little more vigor. “Do it again.”

He brushes his beard against your ribs as his thrusts gain a bit more depth, and the coarse yet soft texture sends shivers all throughout your body.

“How do you feel?” He asks quietly before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your sternum.

“So good,” you sigh contentedly, hands affectionately brushing through his sweaty curls and over his beard. “So close to you. You... you feel wonderful.”

He smiles proudly, thrusting a bit deeper, and his smile grows even wider at the loud moan you emit. “There? Is that the spot?”

You nod frantically as the head of his cock repeatedly drills into that heavenly little area, the pleasure blooming in your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Right there,” you sob as he slides even further within you. “God, please don’t stop. Please, Mikael, I’m so close.”

He wonders if there’s any sound more beautiful than your begging, even though he’d never make you beg for anything.  He’d give freely to you from his well until he was dry, then continue giving.

“Me too, my love,” he grunts, dreading the words as he says them. The idea of this connection ending terrifies him like nothing else. He knows he won’t find this with anyone else. He can sleep with anyone and they’ll never provide him the pleasure—the affection—that you do. He will never fit to anyone else the way he fits to you.

He gently releases you and lets you settle into the mattress, pressing his weight more firmly against you as he gradually starts to hammer into you without regard for taking it slow. His body feels so good against yours, all soft skin and firm muscle while not being overly-prominent. He’s perfect, you think. You know.

He shifts slightly, shimmying his hips closer so he can sheathe himself completely in you. The base of him smacks against you with each thrust, and it’s an obscene noise but you love it. You love the grunts and moans he makes and the way the rickety bed frame squeals its protest with each hard thrust Mikael gives you. You love the feeling of his smooth chest sliding against yours and the downy hair on his legs against your calves. You love the scent of his freshly-washed hair mingling with the tangy aroma of the sweat that sheens his golden skin.

He presses his second palm firmly to the mattress as he fucks into you and captures your hand with the arm that previously supported his weight. His fingers intertwine with yours and he raises your hand up next to your head as he dips down to press his lips firmly to yours. You let his tongue enter into your mouth and explore to his heart’s content, too focused on the feeling of his cock dragging against your most sensitive spot to resist—not that you would want to put up a fight even if he wasn’t thrusting as deep inside of you as physically possible. You willingly give him everything he wants and more.

You’re wound like a cord, ready to burst at any moment. You try to warn him—to tell him that you’re going to come—but then his second hand lowers and his rough fingers press into your clit and suddenly you’re done for.

If your first orgasm was good, it doesn’t even compare to the pleasure that sweeps through your body with Mikael’s cock pounding into you. He presses his hot mouth to yours to muffle your scream and gathers you tightly in his arms, slamming into you as deep as his hips will allow him to.

“Please, Mikael,” you whimper as you watch his eyes flutter closed. “Let go. I want you to reach your peak.”

But he stops, gently contorting you to your hands and knees.

“I can’t release inside you,” he winces apologetically as he starts pumping his length in his hand.

You’re disappointed but you understand—he’s looking out for you. An illegitimate pregnancy would ruin you. Your reputation in the village would be permanently tarnished. Not to mention, you’d be alone. Mikael will be safely hidden away in the hills in less than twenty-four hours.

So you eagerly dip and accept him between your lips, even as your thighs clench with aftershocks from your own pleasure. He groans at the warm heat of your mouth around him again, not quite as nice as your pussy but still divine in a way that predicts he’ll be disappointed with all future fornication that you’re not a part of.

“I’m... I’m right there,” he gasps. His calloused, work-worn fingers still manage to feel soft as he cups your cheek, thrusting shallowly into the cavern of your mouth. “Just a little more...”

You’re not entirely sure if some form of divine intervention takes place, or if your instincts are just that good, but you suddenly get the inclination to massage his balls. So you take them in your fingers and tug gently, and just like that he’s done for. He whimpers as he comes, fingers threaded tightly in your hair as he holds your head in place and carefully fucks his seed down your throat.

His taste is intoxicating—the perfect mixture of sweet and salty, and you drink him down like you’re parched. You suppose you are parched, in a way. You’re parched for him.

He tenderly brushes your hair behind your ear then collapses to the side, laughing breathlessly at the way your bed frame continues voicing its distaste for all of the movement it has endured. Your heart is still pounding as you lay beside him, and he wastes no time pulling you into him. He curls around you like a cooked shrimp, burying his face in your hair and locking his strong arms around your waist.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your soft hair as his long fingers splay against your rib cage.

You hum appreciatively as you nuzzle into his warm, clean-smelling chest. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

There are so many things you want to say. You want to say you love him. You want to ask him how much time he has before he has to return home. You want to tell him that even though he’s no longer inside you, you can feel the distinct impressions of him that are left behind.

“I’m sorry, too.”

You feel his chest shaking as he presses his lips firmly to your temple. You want to cry. You want to sob and scream about how unfair this is—how terrible the hand is that God’s dealt you.

But then he yawns, and you tenderly brush a hand over his beard before nudging him towards the edge of the mattress. If he falls asleep in your arms, you’ll never let him leave.

His clothes are still in the bathroom, and your eyes are glued to that tight ass of his as he pads through the kitchen to retrieve the garments. You commit the image to memory, lips quirking into a smile as you let your eyes close and you replay the way his ass bounces as he walks over and over again in your mind.

You don’t even notice you’re crying until Mikael returns, his lips glinting against your cheeks to kiss away your tears. His affection just makes more tears emerge, and suddenly you understand why he was so hesitant. Every moment is one moment closer to the last time you’ll see Mikael.

He’s going into hiding. It’s not like he can just show up on your doorstep any day. And even if he were to remain within the village, he would never gaze upon you like this again. No matter how desperately he wishes he could—once he’s married, he’ll be devoted to a fault. You know, because you’ve been on the receiving end of his devotion for years.

“I feel like a part of me is dying,” he sighs as he scoops you tightly into his arms. He’s dressed now, and your tears soak into his shirt. He can’t be bothered to care, though. He’ll proudly wear them—take any bit of you that you’re willing to give. “Or surely being left behind with you.”

You know what he means. A part of you is leaving with him. In fact, your entire heart is following him.

“I’ll never love again,” you whisper, delighting in the grounding feeling of his beard against your forehead as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

“You must,” he sighs, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. “A love like yours... give it freely. Let the whole Earth know your love. You deserve to share it with someone fitting.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, relishing in the warmth of his hands on your body. “There’s no one more fitting than you.”

“And yet I’m giving you up,” he whispers, voice fraught with tears.

“You’re not,” you insist with a shake of your head. “You... you don’t have a choice. I know you would choose me if you could.”

“I have chosen you,” he promises as his fingers gently trace up and down your spine. “Imagine my betrothed’s surprise if she’s ever to find out that I haven’t saved myself for her.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Perhaps you don’t tell her of our torrid love affair.”

“I would scream it from the mountain tops if I could,” he chuckles quietly as he shifts to rest his head on top of yours. “If there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s falling in love with you.”

“I will always believe my love for you to be my most sacred possession.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. “I...”

You know what he’s reluctant to say. He has to go. He’s already been gone for too long. His parents are going to ask questions.

“Go, then,” you smile weakly, trying to tease. Trying not to let any more tears escape your eyes until he’s through the door. “Get out of my sight, you beautiful bearded scoundrel.”

He chuckles shakily, then dips down to capture your lips for the last time. You think this is the worst possible thing for him to do, because when he pulls away and straightens his suit jacket, your breath is gone. Your throat constricts and you can’t breathe because he’s your air and he’s leaving.

Lord help you, because you know it’s a sin. But you envy him. He has a fiancée to return to—someone he doesn’t love yet, but has the potential to love. You... you have no one. You’re alone.

But perhaps it’s for the best. Mikael told you that he wishes for you to move on, but you can’t. You have no more love to give, because it’s all about to vanish into the mountains with a dark-haired, wide-hipped man whose fate has been set for him.

THE END

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[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

A december writing challenge that I will try. If you want to send me one of Oscar Isaac’s characters and a day to write for, go ahead! If I don’t get any prompts, I will be writing my own choices. Ask me if you wanna be tagged!

Female reader or GN reader only please!

I’m more comfortable with female reader, but I can easily write gender neutral. Male reader, however, I am NOT comfortable writing for too many reasons to state here.

Just a warning, I’m not big on cities, so this will feature mainly rural/country settings.

Warning. There may be religious themes in some of these, which I will tag accordingly.

** indicates smut, both light and heavy.

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate flavored kisses. (Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader)

Day 2 - Frozen Lake || Cold hands, Scarves, and Snow.(Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader) **

Day 3 - Hot Chocolate || Marshmallows, warm hands, and soft smiles.(Abel Morales x fem!reader)**

Day 4 - Cozy Cabin || Patterned rugs, soft blankets, and warm baths.( Santiago Garcia x wife!fem!reader)

Day 5 - Fire Places || Fuzzy socks, soft rugs, and hands intertwined.(Pt.2! Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader .sequel to You’re handsome with snowflakes in your beard.)**

Day 6 - Blanket Fort || Fluffy pillows, movies, and snacks(Modern!Poe Dameron x pregnant!fem!wife!reader)

Day 7 - Catching a cold  || Tissues, savory soup, and cuddles.(Llewyn Davis x fem!reader)

Day 8 - Snowed In || Candles, snow drifts, and quiet.(Mikael Boghosian x fem!reader)

Day 9 - Sledding || biting wind, cold noses, and laughter(Laurent Leclaire x fem!reader. Canon era.)

Day 10  - Winter Market || Murmuring crowds, rows of stalls, and the smell of food.(Blue Jones x gn!reader)

Day 11 - Snowball Fight || Heavy breathing, footprints in the snow, and warm hugs.( Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader. Part 2! sequel to Kisses of Chocolate.)

Day 12 - Lonely  || Gloomy skies, soft blankets, and a warm fire.

Day 13 - Warm Bath || Bubble bath, soft music, and gentle hands.

Day 14 - Homemade Meal/Cooking || Savory spices, hot meals, and family.

Day 15 - Sleigh Ride || Sleigh bells, foggy breath, and the smell of cedar.(Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Day 16 - Mistletoe || Warm lights, smoke, and friends.(Jonathan Levy x fem!reader)

Day 17 - Gingerbread || Icing on their cheek, smell of cinnamon, and playful kisses.

Day 18 - Sunsets || Golden hour, towering pine trees, and warm coats.

Day 19 - Movie Nights || Laughter, snacks, and cuddles.

Day 20 - Hiking || Rough ground, crisp morning air, and sunrises.

Day 21 - Sweaters || Cozy feelings, goosebumps, and comforting hands.

Day 22 - Unique Traditions || Smiles, acceptance, and making memories.

Day 23 - Proposal || Nerves, candles, and a tasty meal.

Day 24 - Holiday Traffic || Car horns, comforting words, and snow.

Day 25 - Lazy Mornings || Soft blankets, familiar arms, and the morning light.

Day 26 -Furry Friends || Shining eyes, the pitter - patter of paws, and that fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Day 27 - Roasting Marshmallows || Roaring bonfires, laughter of friends, and gooey marshmallows.

Day 28 - Huddle for Warmth || Warm bodies, steady breaths, and comforting feelings.

Day 29 - Holiday Lights || Holiday music, bright colors, and joy.

Day 30 - Fireworks || Loud booms, sparkling light, and a breathtaking kiss.

Day 31 - Wild Card || write anything you want!(Victoriano ‘El Catorce’ Ramirez x fem!reader)

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

A december writing challenge that I will try. If you want to send me one of Oscar Isaac’s characters and a day to write for, go ahead! If I don’t get any prompts, I will be writing my own choices. Ask me if you wanna be tagged!

Female reader or GN reader only please!

I’m more comfortable with female reader, but I can easily write gender neutral. Male reader, however, I am NOT comfortable writing for too many reasons to state here.

Just a warning, I’m not big on cities, so this will feature mainly rural/country settings.

Warning. There may be religious themes in some of these, which I will tag accordingly.

** indicates smut, both light and heavy.

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate flavored kisses. (Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader)

Day 2 - Frozen Lake || Cold hands, Scarves, and Snow.(Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader) **

Day 3 - Hot Chocolate || Marshmallows, warm hands, and soft smiles.(Abel Morales x fem!reader)**

Day 4 - Cozy Cabin || Patterned rugs, soft blankets, and warm baths.( Santiago Garcia x wife!fem!reader)

Day 5 - Fire Places || Fuzzy socks, soft rugs, and hands intertwined.(Pt.2! Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader)

Day 6 - Blanket Fort || Fluffy pillows, movies, and snacks(Modern!Poe Dameron x pregnant!fem!wife!reader)

Day 7 - Catching a cold  || Tissues, savory soup, and cuddles.(Llewyn Davis x fem!reader)

Day 8 - Snowed In || Candles, snow drifts, and quiet.(Mikael Boghosian x fem!reader)

Day 9 - Sledding || biting wind, cold noses, and laughter ( Laurent Leclaire x fem!reader. Canon timeline.)

Day 10  - Winter Market || Murmuring crowds, rows of stalls, and the smell of food.(Blue Jones x gn!reader)

Day 11 - Snowball Fight || Heavy breathing, footprints in the snow, and warm hugs.

Day 12 - Lonely  || Gloomy skies, soft blankets, and a warm fire.

Day 13 - Warm Bath || Bubble bath, soft music, and gentle hands.

Day 14 - Homemade Meal/Cooking || Savory spices, hot meals, and family.(Mikael Boghosian x midwife!fem!pregnant!wife!reader. Canon timeline. )

Day 15 - Sleigh Ride || Sleigh bells, foggy breath, and the smell of cedar.(Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Day 16 - Mistletoe || Warm lights, smoke, and friends.(Jonathan Levy x fem!reader)

Day 17 - Gingerbread || Icing on their cheek, smell of cinnamon, and playful kisses.

Day 18 - Sunsets || Golden hour, towering pine trees, and warm coats.

Day 19 - Movie Nights || Laughter, snacks, and cuddles.

Day 20 - Hiking || Rough ground, crisp morning air, and sunrises.

Day 21 - Sweaters || Cozy feelings, goosebumps, and comforting hands.

Day 22 - Unique Traditions || Smiles, acceptance, and making memories.

Day 23 - Proposal || Nerves, candles, and a tasty meal.

Day 24 - Holiday Traffic || Car horns, comforting words, and snow.

Day 25 - Lazy Mornings || Soft blankets, familiar arms, and the morning light.

Day 26 -Furry Friends || Shining eyes, the pitter - patter of paws, and that fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Day 27 - Roasting Marshmallows || Roaring bonfires, laughter of friends, and gooey marshmallows.

Day 28 - Huddle for Warmth || Warm bodies, steady breaths, and comforting feelings.

Day 29 - Holiday Lights || Holiday music, bright colors, and joy.

Day 30 - Fireworks || Loud booms, sparkling light, and a breathtaking kiss.

Day 31 - Wild Card || write anything you want!(Victoriano ‘El Catorce’ Ramirez x fem!reader)

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

A december writing challenge that I will try. If you want to send me one of Oscar Isaac’s characters and a day to write for, go ahead! If I don’t get any prompts, I will be writing my own choices. Ask me if you wanna be tagged!

Female reader or GN reader only please!

I’m more comfortable with female reader, but I can easily write gender neutral. Male reader, however, I am NOT comfortable writing for too many reasons to state here.

Just a warning, I’m not big on cities, so this will feature mainly rural/country settings.

 Warning. There may be religious themes in some of these, which I will tag accordingly.

** indicates smut, both light and heavy.

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate flavored kisses. (Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader)

Day 2 - Frozen Lake || Cold hands, Scarves, and Snow.(Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader) **

Day 3 - Hot Chocolate || Marshmallows, warm hands, and soft smiles.(Abel Morales x fem!reader)

Day 4 - Cozy Cabin || Patterned rugs, soft blankets, and warm baths.( Santiago Garcia x wife!fem!reader)

Day 5 - Fire Places || Fuzzy socks, soft rugs, and hands intertwined.(Pt.2! Duke Leto Atreides x fiancée!fem!reader)

Day 6 - Blanket Fort || Fluffy pillows, movies, and snacks(Modern!Poe Dameron x pregnant!fem!wife!reader)

Day 7 - Catching a cold  || Tissues, savory soup, and cuddles.(Llewyn Davis x fem!reader)

Day 8 - Snowed In || Candles, snow drifts, and quiet.(Mikael Boghosian x fem!reader)

Day 9 - Sledding || biting wind, cold noses, and laughter

Day 10  - Winter Market || Murmuring crowds, rows of stalls, and the smell of food.(Blue Jones x gn!reader)

Day 11 - Snowball Fight || Heavy breathing, footprints in the snow, and warm hugs.

Day 12 - Lonely  || Gloomy skies, soft blankets, and a warm fire.

Day 13 - Warm Bath || Bubble bath, soft music, and gentle hands.

Day 14 - Homemade Meal/Cooking || Savory spices, hot meals, and family.

Day 15 - Sleigh Ride || Sleigh bells, foggy breath, and the smell of cedar.(Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Day 16 - Mistletoe || Warm lights, smoke, and friends.(Jonathan Levy x fem!reader)

Day 17 - Gingerbread || Icing on their cheek, smell of cinnamon, and playful kisses.

Day 18 - Sunsets || Golden hour, towering pine trees, and warm coats.

Day 19 - Movie Nights || Laughter, snacks, and cuddles.

Day 20 - Hiking || Rough ground, crisp morning air, and sunrises.

Day 21 - Sweaters || Cozy feelings, goosebumps, and comforting hands.

Day 22 - Unique Traditions || Smiles, acceptance, and making memories.

Day 23 - Proposal || Nerves, candles, and a tasty meal.

Day 24 - Holiday Traffic || Car horns, comforting words, and snow.

Day 25 - Lazy Mornings || Soft blankets, familiar arms, and the morning light.

Day 26 -Furry Friends || Shining eyes, the pitter - patter of paws, and that fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Day 27 - Roasting Marshmallows || Roaring bonfires, laughter of friends, and gooey marshmallows.

Day 28 - Huddle for Warmth || Warm bodies, steady breaths, and comforting feelings.

Day 29 - Holiday Lights || Holiday music, bright colors, and joy.

Day 30 - Fireworks || Loud booms, sparkling light, and a breathtaking kiss.

Day 31 - Wild Card || write anything you want!(Victoriano ‘El Catorce’ Ramirez x fem!reader)

[freelancearsonist]

WIP Game

share the titles of each of your current WIPs and if your followers ask, share a preview of the one that sounds the most interesting. send this on to ten mutuals who you are curious what they’re working on.

thank you for the tag @alwritey-aphrodite and @dameronology 🥺 i always say i’ll do tag games and then i forget about them but I’M DOING THIS ONE 😂 titles always come after i finish writing so the temporary titles for my wips are a total clusterfuck 🤣

Origin Story??? (Nathan Bateman x reader)

Cockworship with our boi (Mikael Boghosian x reader)

Mikael needs love (Mikael Boghosian x reader)

A Love Letter to that Asshole Marcus (Oscar’s character from The Life Before Her Eyes x reader)

Hill House but not Hill House (Poe Dameron x reader)

Evgeni fic real good title I know (Evgeni Kolpakov x reader)

Lil bitch boy DEA bitch (Javier Pe��a x reader)

Goddamn it I need to be stopped (Marcus x reader again)

We only know pain in this house (Poe Dameron x reader)

Humbled Part 2?? (Blue Jones x reader)

i don’t have ten friends 😂 but i’ll tag @aellynera @wasicskosgirl @shakespeareanwannabe @yourbucky084 @reysflyboy sorry if y’all have already been tagged you can just ignore me 😂