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#the angel against revolution

wahbegan · 11 months

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But don't wait up, just leave the light on Cause all the roads that I might take Will all one day lead back to you

#Rise Against #Revolutions Per Minute #Like the Angel #Spotify

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amuseoffyre · 9 months

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Rewatching bits of S1 is a revelation for the stuff in S2.

In the ark sequence, we see Aziraphale standing by and watching the preparation for the Great Flood, clearly in some state of anxiety about it. When Crawley questions him about it and says “not the kids, you can’t kill kids”, Aziraphale straight-up tells him “you can’t judge the Almighty, Crawley.”

Fast-forward to 2500BC, the first time they see each other after the flood and, once again, the lives of children are on the line. This time, Aziraphale is immediately horrified when he finds out.

This time, he doesn’t just stand there and watch. He goes and actively puts himself between Crawley and the children. When Crawley turns up, Aziraphale is still wary of him and almost falls for him saying “I want to destroy the blameless children of blameless Job”. But the second he realises the goat-kids were saved, he knows Crawley still believes “you can’t kill kids”.

That’s why he’s so convinced that Crawley absolutely won’t kill Job’s children, even when Crawley miracles up a flaming inferno to engulf the house. “Are you sure, angel?” Crawley taunts him and Aziraphale - unafraid and absolutely certain that this demon will thwart Heaven’s will - says yes.

And when those very children are in danger of being killed off by Heaven directly, to fulfil God’s will for Job to lose all his old possessions, Aziraphale lies to protect them. He’s terrified after, afraid he’s destined to fall, but he did it anyway because he wanted to protect them, just as he gave away his weapon to protect Adam and Eve outside the garden.

And I feel like this is the big turning point for him. Giving his sword away wasn’t necessarily defying orders, but because of Crawley and the Job situation, Aziraphale makes the active choice to make a stand against Heaven’s plans. He’s terrified, but he does it, and then he keeps on doing it.

Every single action he takes against Heaven is in the name of protecting people: giving Adam & Eve the sword, shielding Job’s children, trying to teach the Antichrist to be good, swan-diving out of heaven to protect earth, hiding Gabriel to keep him safe, shouting at the Archangels and Demons like naughty children when they threaten to bring a war on and now, walking back into Heaven in the hopes of beginning a revolution for the whole system.

#good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #good omens spoilers #good omens

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 8 months

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revolution 0

boy genius (the record) masterlist | masterlist

stepmother!wanda x fem!reader

if it isn't love, then what the fuck is it?

18+: stepcest, age gap, jealous and possessive wanda, smut; dubcon, oral to a strap, brief use of a gag, strap use (r!receiving), face riding, oral, mommy kink, choking, degradation, praise | word count: 1.7k

“Are you going somewhere?” Wanda spoke from your doorway, making you jump slightly at her sudden appearance and you glanced back at her through the mirror where you were getting ready.

“Oh, uh, yeah, Natasha’s taking me out,” you answered, the sight of her tightening grasp on the doorframe obstructed from your view.

“On a date?”

“Yeah. Well, we’re going for drinks, so,” you shrugged, turning round to face her and her relenting stare. Her eyes looked at you darkly, glinting with a jealousy you couldn’t place. She’d not yet had to witness someone attempting to take claim of what was hers but she wasn’t enjoying it.

She hummed a response, turning on her heel for a quick getaway before you could say anything else and you watched after her, missing the angered mumbles beneath her breath.

She occupied herself as best she could, bearing little mind to the sharp actions she carried out, letting doors swing closed heavily behind her and crockery clatter as she piled it high in kitchen cupboards. Her face was hot with a jealous fury she couldn’t shake, a pit swarming in her stomach with each step she took back upstairs to your room.

She didn’t bother to knock, smirking darkly at your small flinch at the door hitting into the wall. You looked so pretty, her little angel all dolled up and ready for your suitor. She’d do anything to keep the sight all to herself.

“Come here,” she muttered, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, beckoning you over with a manicured finger.

“Wanda, I don’t have time for-”

“I said come over here.”

There was no room left for argument and you couldn’t deny the spark that always lights at the husk of her commanding voice. You hate how pliable you become at just a darkened look from your stepmother, how she knew she could mold you like a pliable toy, pulling you towards her until you were right in front of her.

But despite each and every sensible part of you that tries to resist her, you’re always lulled in by her dug-in claws.

You didn’t resist when she pulled you onto her lap, ignoring the smirk against your lips - she knew she could get you to do whatever she wanted. When she kissed you, you knew it’d smudge the lip gloss you’d applied but it was pushed into the depths of your mind in favour of the all-consuming hold she had on your waist, pulling you closer until your knees were planted on either side of her.

Wanda’s tongue pushed against yours and her teeth pulled at your bottom lip; you shuddered beneath her touch when her hands crept beneath your skirt, inching higher until they met the material of your underwear.

“Wanda stop - I can’t,” you breathed against her, finally becoming aware of the spell she had you under, the one you’d tried to escape since the day it started. You knew it was wrong and you so hoped to find something real, something with true feelings and a romantic love you ached for. “I have to go.”

She didn’t listen to your protests though, nudging your underwear down your legs with her free arm looped tightly around you to keep you close. Before you knew it, they were torn from your body and balled in her fist while she looked at you possessively, lips twitching into a smile at the sound of knuckles tapping against the front door.

“On your knees. Now,” she spoke, pushing you away from her without a second glance at you when you reluctantly took your place.

“Wanda, I need to-”

“You don’t need to do anything apart from wait for mommy to get back.”

“Nat’s here, let me go to her.”

“Why? So you can go and act like a little slut?”

“So I can try and find someone to fall in love with - to have a relationship with.”

“I love you,” she uttered, sweet words dripping with a malice and accompanied with a sour look.

“This isn’t love, Wanda.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

She halted any words you tried to muster with your underwear being harshly pushed past your lips and you wished you’d been able to hide the whimper at the back of your throat because, of course, she huffed a laugh knowing you were wrapped around her little finger.

You stayed where she left you, on your knees and silent; you listened to her retreating footsteps and the excuse of you coming down with an illness to the woman at the door.

She made you wait, taking her time before she sauntered back into the room with a prominent bulge in her jeans you knew wasn’t there before.

You didn’t speak any words you knew she didn’t want to hear when she pulled the material from your mouth and accepted the cock she swiped across your lips instead. You slackened your jaw at the rough hold she took of your hair, accepting her strap she fucked into your mouth peering down at you dominantly whilst it hit the back of your throat.

She watched pleasurably as your eyes began to water at her harsh actions, digging her nails into your scalp to pull you into her, bobbing your head to cover her cock with your spit.

“You’re just a filthy whore, aren’t you?” she murmured. “So fucking desperate for your mommy’s cock.”

You could only nod with any space in your mind taken up completely by her. If there’s one thing the older woman’s good at, it’s turning your mind into a haze of her and only her.

She reveled in the sight of her strap when she pulled it away, shining with your saliva, lips wet and begging to be taken by her again. She didn’t let you catch your breath before she pushed her own lips into yours and guided you backward until your head was on your pillows and her body was atop yours.

Her hold on you was addictive. You held onto her hips, silently begging for the intrusion of the cock that teasingly hit against your cunt with each subtle move she made.

“If you want it, you’re gonna have to beg for it, honey,” she murmured, sitting up onto her knees as she looked down at your smudged makeup. In a deceiving act of gentleness, she cupped your jaw with a stroke of your thumb over your cheek, trailing downwards to take ahold of your neck with a squeeze, her nails leaving impressions in the skin.

“Please, mommy,” you choked out, peering up with desperate eyes.

“Apologise,” she stated through clenched teeth. “Tell me you’re sorry for being a slut just because mommy wasn’t giving you enough attention.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m sorry, please, I need you,” each word was tinted with a desperate plea. “I only want you.”

You admired the smile of success she sported at your confession, rewarding you with the head of her dick stretching you out as she pushed into your soaked cunt. She filled your hole slowly, listening to the way you sighed at each inch she buried into you, watching herself disappear into you with your skirt pushed up to your hips.

She let you get used to the feeling, allowing you to pull her shirt over her head as she removed yours. Undressing one another until bare chests were flush together whilst she kissed you with heated fervour, beginning a steady pace with the rutting of her hips. Despite the kiss that showed affection, her thrusts reached deep within you, harsh and rough with the sound of skin hitting skin.

Each stroke of her hips pulled sounds from you that she adored, a pleasure coursing through both of you. Her lips trailed over your neck with bites of her teeth sinking into the flesh, leaving marks scattered behind which she’ll be sure to admire until they fade. You grabbed at Wanda’s back to keep her close, legs wrapped around her waist to pull her into you.

None of her actions were soft, not the way her teeth pulled at your nipple nor the grip she had on your throat. With each entrancing feeling she lay upon your body, the pleasure within you built, and the thumb she rubbed over your clit pulled you to the precipice of the edge.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Show me I’m the only one who could ever make you feel this good.”

Her voice was rasped and deep and her chest leaned into the touch of your hands to her breasts, the toying of her nipples between your finger and thumb. The world was just a blur when it came to Wanda, she had a talent for making you forget everything else during the throes of pleasure.

You came with incoherent moans of her name, soaking the cock that rode you through your high with pushes into your pussy, arching your torso into the musing scraping of her nails as she watched you catch your breath.

You only watched her with heavy breaths falling past your parted lips as she put her strap aside and climbed her way up your body, her eyes glancing down at you through her lashes.

“Put that mouth to use,” she smirked. “You’ve got mommy all worked up.”

Your arms wrapped around her thighs as she lowered herself onto your face. You instantly licked through her folds to hear the moan she let out above you, humming at the taste of her arousal-coated cunt.

She fucked herself onto your lips as they sucked at her aching clit, your tongue lapping through her slit with all the desperation to obey what she wanted - you needed to make her feel as good as she makes you feel. She fixed her eyes on yours and the sight only made you work harder; the way her lip was caught between her teeth and her hand that wasn’t tightly holding onto the headboard squeezed her breast, flicking her thumb over a hardened nipple.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doin’ so good,” she breathed, punctuated with broken moans. Her skin was hot and flushed pink with her arousal and her body moved to chase her orgasm. You swallowed down each drop of her as you could when she came onto your tongue while her thighs trapped your head between them.

When she pulled away she eyed the way your chin shone with her juices, the way your tongue darted out to clean your lips.

“I hope you know I’m not done with you,” she uttered, taking a firm grip of your jaw. “And don’t even think about going on any dates ever again.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff #marvel fanfic

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vidavalor · 7 months

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This is the face of an angel who just realized that his oppressors are afraid of him and his friends because, together, they are a force that threatens the regime.

This is the face of an angel that just realized all of this Metatron nonsense is to separate them and keep him-- the best strategist-- from starting a revolution. If they are split up, The Second Coming goes off without a hitch... but if Aziraphale unites them, then Heaven will fall. Crowley & Aziraphale alone are enough trouble together to stop Armageddon. Crowley & Aziraphale with the eons-long leaders and commanders of Heaven and Hell in Gabriel and Beezelbub, though? That is a coup.

How little would it take to overthrow it all at this point? How long until it's Crowley & Aziraphale & Gabriel & Beez... & Muriel & Eric & Furfur? How til they get Michael and Dagon on their side? How long until it's actually most of the demons and a sizable portion of the angels teaming up against what's left of Heaven?

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Aziraphale took the coffee. The Metatron thinks it means subservience. He thinks it means he's tricked Aziraphale and that he's won and he was almost right, so is the level of trauma these beings have suffered. He didn't know, though, that coffee is already coded as liberty. He handed Aziraphale a cup of symbolic freedom and didn't realize how so very true that was going to be. Just like a certain empire once did when they gave some of their people the option to form some colonies, thinking that the empire would always remain in control, and now we call those colonies not part of Great Britain but The United States of America.

"Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks leap out"-- the Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox containing the fly, containing Gabriel via Beez. Out of Gabriel's mouth goes burning lamps-- Gabriel lights the way. He's the path forward. He is first shots fired in the rebellion...

...and sparks leap out.

Some Boston Tea Party stuff afoot, you guys.

That is the face of an angel that just realized that he and Crowley were both wrong: the solution isn't running away but it's also not taking over a broken system that doesn't want to be fixed... it's fanning the spark that Gabriel lit into a flame and then into an inferno and burning this entire mother to the ground.

Aziraphale is no longer headed to Heaven to run it.

He's headed to Heaven to *overthrow* it.

He's headed to Heaven to *liberate* it.

No idea how much of a chance he will get to succeed alone but this is Aziraphale. He will give them hell if it's the last thing he ever does-- for Muriel and all the angels like them. For all the persecuted demons. For the humans Heaven wants to destroy. For Gabriel.

Most of all, for what they did to Crowley and the 6,000 years of fear and pain they've put them through.

That is the face of an angel who just realized that he had almost been drawn back into Heaven's web of darkness again, only to hear that Heaven wants him to oversee the destruction of 8 billion people and the Earth he calls home and the stars the love of his life built and he has reached his absolute last remaining straw.

They've taken his home and hurt his friends and they took *Crowley* and at this point, Aziraphale no longer gives one flying fuck what it might be that God wants because God can go fuck herself if this it is. The elevator scene is Aziraphale saying Crowley was right:

That angel is *untethered* with barely controlled rage. They nearly played him for a sucker. He might die doing this and they fooled him and he broke Crowley's heart and they've taken too. Fucking. Much. It's just utter destruction. There will be no system of Heaven and Hell done when Aziraphale is through with it.

Aziraphale is about to go from not sure if he should stop Armageddon in S1 to being the angel that destroys the system of Heaven and Hell in S3.

Yes, you can save everyone, Aziraphale, but not alone. You need Crowley's imagination and Gabriel's leadership and Beez's intelligence. That's what they're afraid of. You finally got it in that elevator, so get up there now, get your gang back together, and make some trouble.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens s2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta

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seven-homosexual-dinosaurs · 8 months

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Fun IronMouse fact for Qsmp enjoyers who don’t know her lore!

-The bells Mouse wears serve to limit her powers to prevent her from overexerting herself and losing herself to her demonic powers. They were created for her by her friend/follower and fellow demon Beezelbub, the current king of hell since she left.

-Mouse is a fallen angel who was cast out of heaven because she wanted to see the Creator, who was forbidden from being beholden by anyone who wasn’t a high angel. She rallied a bunch of angels by questioning if the Creator even existed or if it was a lie fabricated by the archangel Gabriel and other high angels. She broke through the doors to see it, but she and all who witnessed it remember nothing from what they saw except a horrible, terrible feeling. The angels who saw the creator were cast from heaven straight to hell except for Mouse, who received special punishment for starting the whole incident.

-IronMouse isn’t her actual name! Her heavenly name was Satanael, but she was made to forget it in her eternal punishment and never remembered her original name, other than it started with “S”. She took on the name “Satan” whilst ruling hell and later chose the name IronMouse when she came to earth as it was her favourite anime character’s name.

-Mouse was punished for the whole “starting a revolution in heaven” thing by being sealed inside a magical box for thousands of years, punishment for her curiosity and thirst for something “fun”. The crux of her punishment was being deprived of all her senses that made her feel alive, left in an unending, tortuous boredom.

-Beezelbub, or “Bubi” as Mouse calls him, freed Mouse whilst trying to regain his full power. He tried to kill her, thinking she held his power, but she absorbed his power instead. He reluctantly followed her for some time before actually starting to care for her, and she returned his powers to him before leaving hell and making him king.

-A big part of Mouse’s character is freedom and fun. Her reason for rebelling against heaven was to end her boredom and gain freedom against the oppressive rules of heaven. Her reason for leaving Hell was that she simply wasn’t enjoying herself. She’d seen everything there was to be seen but wasn’t satisfied and still felt trapped, saying that “hell is just another box”

#anyways mouse will absolutely hate being trapped on the island #and apparently the federation is capable of forging hell quality power suppressors #qsmp #ironmouse #bubi

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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y'know what i'd love to see as a cold open in season three? various demons and angels collaborating with each other in secret.

you can't tell me that somehow gabriel & beez and crowley & aziraphale are the only ones who ever thought hey maybe this system fucking sucks, especially because aziraphale is still neck deep in the denial puddle. there is nothing actively preventing them from meeting, they share a fucking elevator they can use without any restrictions. everyone in heaven is left to their own devices and lonely but they are left to their own devices. no one is watching them. no one CARES because within the system the mere thought of collaborating with the enemy is just. not taken seriously.

there are no back channels, gabriel tells michael, but they both know that there ARE back channels and that they're using them, it's exactly the same thing crowley and aziraphale are doing on earth, deny everything upfront but have secrets underneath.

the goals might differ since angels and demons don't really give a fuck about humans, but the organization is the same.

give me michael and ligur trying to undermine their bosses, give me random angels meeting with demons and exchanging information, give me a group of spies trying to come up with functional plans against new policies.

give me operatives on earth refusing to kill one another when they meet because why should they? if the world ends they might as well start another revolution because what is the point in destroying one half of all existing celestial beings?

earth was saved by humans being fundamentally human, now give me the whole of creation being saved by people who are fundamentally people, angel or demon or human. god created everyone in her image, so when it comes down to it, it's the same spark of life burning in each of them.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #good omens meta #alex's meta minisodes

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hwaightme · 8 days

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Dawn

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, PRINCE'S ORDERS (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

👑 pairing: exiled!prince!seonghwa x afab!reader 👑 genre: smut, fluff/angst, pwp but make it royaltycore 👑 summary: remember, remember this day, do remember, the treason and gunpowder plot. i see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot. as the preparations for a new era are complete, you find paradise and praise in the arms of the prince who had fallen, the prince who will be your king. 👑 wordcount: 6k 👑 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of 'sins', exile/royal family drama, revolution/uprising, muddled feelings, explicit mention of bombs, treason, park dynasty, royaltycore with modern elements, in love or in lust, lmk if anything else 👑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 👑 a/n: it all started with a devious hwa smirk; @nebulousbrainsoup thank you for hyping over this with me <3 always, any reblogs appreciated. much love!

👑 nsfw tags: cunnilingus, overstim, teasing, pet names (love, darling...), begging, unprotected sex (wrap. it. up), creampie, nipple play (f receiving), implied aftercare

“It has been done,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the heavy cloak that adorned your frame. Despite being in a secluded chamber, you did not have the heart, at least not yet, to reveal your surprise, instead keeping discussion and action to strictly business.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, as though he was visualising the impact of your unspeakable actions. A pang of fear struck your heart as you cast a glance at the flickering orange flame of the torch – currently, the sole source of light in the chamber that he had made his quarters and headquarters, given the timidness of the moon as it hid behind thick clouds. The ornate window stood dormant, reflecting the light and the fiery man. Prior stoicism and cool resolve evaporated, and he turned towards you. In the blink of an eye he was setting the maps of the kingdom and of the locations that served as bases of operation of the new regime down on the desk, and he could not hold back on anxious praise.

“How did you- but that was a risk- you, my angel… my sweet, precious angel you are changing the world, light of my life-” stopping you from picking at your cloak, he took one of your hands in his, lips ghosting over the knuckles. He pressed your hand against his chest, as though in a miniature embrace.

It was easy to see the relief in his features. The hints of dark circles under his eyes, the misery being replaced with a shining hope and a boyish vivacity – this was why you had abandoned your own morals in favour of his, convincing yourself that what you had done was ‘the right’, and that there was an objective evil in the world that just so happened to align with your specific target. It could be the case; it could be that because Seonghwa was your personal ‘right’ and was the path you never wanted to stray from, you could not care less for any other misdeeds. When his grip on you weakened, you moved your arm back, and placed both hands on his shoulders, pretending to smooth out the fabric of his perfectly tailored black coat.

Not much had changed in his heart for as long as you knew him. Seonghwa was always there for you, and even in the midst of the crumbling of the Park dynasty, he was the one to tell you that it was going to be alright. Despite being publicly labelled a traitor and having a witch hunt launched to find and execute him, he was here, standing before you, with a gentle smile on his face. You wondered what was unfolding and being formulated in his beautiful mind. What tears was he suppressing, what curses was he refining for the day that he would look the revolutionaries in the face and deliver the final blow to reclaim the royal title and the kingdom. Perhaps his shoulders had gotten broader, perhaps his hair had gotten longer, gaze sharper and the sword that he would wield in his hand more lethal and merciless, but he was the same Seonghwa to you. The same boy who you had played in the royal gardens with, the same young man with whom you had danced in the quietude of empty halls. You did not know anyone except him, and that was how you wanted your life to stay. So, when Seonghwa offhandedly mentioned a ‘mission’ that he was due to complete – a critical step in the leadup to the uprising by him and his loyal army, you did not just volunteer, you swore to dedicate yourself wholly to his plan and did not experience a single droplet of regret.

Perhaps he was your sin. Like some suffered from Pride, or Lust, or Sloth, you were a devotee to His Royal Highness, until your very downfall. And this is why no other act, no matter how devious, meant anything to you – it was merely a step in the direction towards securing your one certain joy in what was otherwise a bleak, barren dystopia. His eyes contained a universe, and that was more than enough for you, even if your days were numbered. This was ringing particularly true after the act you had committed, and the cause for which you stood. You were frozen in time, regarding Seonghwa with the adoration of a person parting ways with the world. As though he was your last breath of air and last ray of sun before it set for eternity. It appeared that this dismissal of your internal turmoil did not go unnoticed, and the prince was quick to reach for your arms, pulling them down so that your fingers could intertwine.

“You mustn’t look back alone. It is a chasm,” he began, studying you. A bitter smile graced your lips as you bit back the long-chronic worries you possessed due to his unwavering kindness. Your precious little prince. You squeezed his hands, mumbling:

“What use is there in focusing on the past anyways, right?” when you sensed suspicion, you elaborated, “the future is bound to be brighter? Isn’t that right, sweet star of mine?”

An overwhelming pause. The question was meant to be rhetorical, potentially comedic, and yet it left a tinge of sourness. Nothing was for certain, even though you carried everything out to a tee and disappeared from the party-occupied castle unnoticed thanks to your knowledge of secret passages that ran between rooms and underground. Seonghwa’s voice accompanied you as you planted detonators, deafening devices and something one of the prince’s followers had kindly dubbed a ‘sleeping mist’ in predetermined locations. Turn, leave, you could do it, you were strong, there was reason behind your actions. Evidence of this was behind the elegantly dressed, albeit emotionally worn-down man. The maps – a myriad of scriptures, plans, strategies; some doomed to fail, others a brave but evaluated risk.

“Mm… that’s right,” you did not want to believe that it was a lie, so you settled on indulging in his deep timbre, tone so mellifluous that you wanted for it to be the only thing you could ever hear, “just you wait, the future is made for us. A world of ripest fruits for us to reap, for us alone…”

He moved once more, letting go of you. You could guess his musings almost word for word – a little planet. Starry night sky. Having the luxury of knowing what would happen when, so he would know when he could see you again, and you did not have to turn into a creature of darkness to creep inside the shadows to his hideout for a few hours, only to risk yourself all over again afterwards. Freedom and utopia were his forbidden fruit – an eternal temptation explicit in his gorgeous irises.

He was a dreamer with very consistent and persistent fantasies, as well as an eloquent way of feeding them into your soul with such finesse that with time you almost always considered any thought to be your own in its origins. Both the little prince and the serpent, Seonghwa was your definition of the world. He had given you a lens through which to see everything. Including him. To you, he was the definition of perfect. A fallen angel more than deserving to return to the heavens. He was outcast by evil, afterall.

Your body acted on its own accord, stepping back to give yourself at least some room to breathe, but you should have known better than to expect such a thing to happen in Seonghwa’s presence. He caught you - a long time ago. Unreadable expressions graced him as he hooked you back in with the slightest tug at the dark formless material hanging over your body.

“Did it take you long? Were you in danger?” he asked, spotting the absence of the pouch that had carried the discreet explosive animatronics for your distribution.

“N-no. Not at all. They did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I did not try to improvise outside of your instruction.”

“Good. More than good,” it was as if he was talking to himself, undoubtedly reviewing the preparations, now accounting for the success of a major element of the operation. “I wonder if anyone would be able to spot the butterflies prematurely. Would the alarm be rung then? Would we-”

“Are you doubting my skills to hide the tech, Your Highness?” you jest, imitating frustration.

“Hm, no. I think I am merely excited for what is to come. We’ve been preparing night…” he sneaked a glance at your neck, trying to guess what you were hiding under black wool, “...and day. I want to see it all come to life, and have you with me.”

With him - that was all you could hear. You were not one for bloodshed, however given the possibility of redemption, it was appealing. You did your part for him, and he was proud. Now, you could close your eyes. Something in the way Seonghwa approached you was akin to the way a predator follows an unsuspecting beast in a grove. Eyes that were neither hostile nor forgiving, foresight so powerful that he was confident you would never leave. The two of you had too much history, too many memories from which detangling oneself would be virtually impossible. You tried, however your attempts had been in vain. When you had first caught the rumours of exile flying around the castle, and then the extensive discussions about familial rivalry and planned ‘changes of crown’ to fit a new ideology, you tried to get away deeming the path of ignorance safer. All it took was one whisper of your name to vow that if Seonghwa were to be sent to hell, you would loyally follow him there. Should he be executed, you would weep at his side and depart with him, heart already in a million pieces. You were irrevocably, foolishly in love with Park Seonghwa, the former prince of Aurora, willing to settle for being a favourite pawn, should he want you to be one. But even that title you would never be able to fish out of him. Forever enigmatic, you were never confident in assuming you were his only star despite the sweet nothings and the adoring gazes, but even if you were part of a big universe for this ambitious, high and mighty man, you did not mind. No one could fight against power. No one could fight against the greed for supremacy.

He was so close. An angel glowing in the torch light. The gold and red detail on his clothing turned to holy markings in his grace. You were stunned, a pliable doll in his arms, entranced by his slowed blinking as the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. There was always reason to reward you and your undying commitment to his cause. A token of appreciation, some could say. Seonghwa could also retain some form of humanity and call it for what it was - a long-standing obsession, but given who he wanted to become, he needed to contain himself and possess at least a sliver of civility before inevitably breaking apart for you, and only you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” music to your ears, the final straw before your internal chaos overwhelmed you and you had to hold on to Seonghwa’s voice for guidance. Your reaction was easy to detect, as the prince moved to have his fingers just barely touch your face.

”So… so beautiful, my love,” his hand traced your jawline, pausing when a shudder passed over your body. Seonghwa chuckled, admiring how responsive you were, how attuned you were to him despite remaining mostly unperturbed by the world that surrounded you.

There was something spectacular in how you carried yourself – feigned obliviousness, a façade of perfect innocence that had been the main reason for your survival under the new regime. Pretty precious little bird that knew how to keep quiet, and in turn were destined to sing the loudest when the time would come. Your eyes, widened as you devoured him, were enchanting pools that he would not hesitate to dive into and drown. Perhaps one could argue that no one liked a dead man, but Seonghwa was one of the lucky ones; your taboo rendezvous were evidence enough that you did not mind a character in your life who was as good as a ghost.

Your slightly parted lips, rosy, moistened by the darting of your delicate, delectable tongue were a sinful fruit that he desired to own. Running a thumb over your lower lip, the sparks of an uncontrollable lust burst in his chest, tainting his bloodstream like the most potent wine. He could see the edges of your dress under the black cloak that you used to move undetected in the night. To visit him, of all people. To risk your life for him and him alone. For him to be the only one who could even spot the royal crimson fabric underneath – a material tailors would fight over, material that he had gifted to you once upon a time despite barely having any network whilst in the chasm of being an outlaw, a traitor of the state. Enemy number one, who had made it a mission to dress you up. He did not regret a thing. Not when you gasped as he toyed with the clasp of the cloak. Not when he felt your hands land right above his heart, fingers toying with the leather harness and golden embroidery of his long military coat - another echo of the past that he would never be able to shed away. In addition, as the days approaching the uprising were being reduced to nil, he could not help but be drawn to the fine material as a form of mockery. He wanted those who have wronged him to see themselves in his form, to hear him have the final laugh.

Muscles tensing under your fluttering caresses, Seonghwa was giving into a domineering restlessness. Unhooking the clasp, he admired the way the black fabric pooled around you, as though the night sky was bowing before your grace. He tried to catch his breath, but it proved to be impossible as the dress occupied his vision. Nothing remained, only your impeccable handiwork, the perfection that was the fit of the garment on your body. You were supreme, the symbol of victory and glory. Clad in red, he saw the future in your form, both in spirit and in the battle cries that would accompany the painting of the lands in the colour of the wondrous silk.

You retracted your hands, and almost regretted it when you heard Seonghwa’s staggered inhale. He was looking you up and down, memorising every detail, undoubtedly thinking of anything and everything that he could do to you, or what you could do to him. Despite the urge to act, to step towards him and greedily steal away what he had left of precious oxygen, you did what you did best, and batted your eyelashes, pretending to be unaware. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in trepidation to accept the guilt of inducing a small death. Serial murder, unforgivable, manic, addictive, reviving.

“I-“ he tried to form a sentence but it seemed as though every word he could think of wilted before escaping his throat.

Darkened irises darting back and forth, in awe of you – your favourite sight. You could not help but to reach out to him, moving to push an escaping tiny strand of inky hair from his stunning, timeless face. Fingers inadvertently ran further, carding through the slicked back locks and tempting Seonghwa to come closer. Biting his lower lip, he stepped closer to you, hands finding purchase on your hips and giving them a warning squeeze. You tugged lightly, making his previously lowered head rise to face you directly. You could see nothing in his eyes except what you yourself could reflect. The most beautiful and inextinguishable hellfire.

“You have good taste, Seonghwa,” you smiled softly, though the action was clouded over with a deeper intent.

“I am blessed to say I have a muse,” snaking over to your waist, you were suddenly being pulled into a yearning embrace. His racing heart reverberated and echoed in your body, the rising heat of his thighs and hips against yours grew ever more prominent. Seonghwa occupied your every sense, making you forget where you were, when, and what the consequences of your star-crossed union could be.

“Mm is that so?” you suppressed a giggle, brushing his wavy tresses back once more, while your other hand on the side of his face. You could feel him lean into the touch, eyes shutting for a moment before meeting yours once more.

It was in such moments that you found you knew Seonghwa best. Uninhibited and entirely himself, he bared his soul to you in every glance and longing grasp of cloth or exposed skin. Stars in his deep mahogany orbs, the exiled prince was silently asking you for permission. For what? You were about to find out; not once did you not trust him enough to let go of your inner voice and soar into pleasure – those who plotted uprisings together, were meant to be bound together, body and mind. It did not take long before Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, intoxicating, the pace of your elaborate dance so dizzyingly slow that a minute more and you would be the one clawing for more. Overwhelming, he pressed himself against you, and you could only hold on tight, thanking every deity who could unabashedly observe your physical confession for the existence of such moments in your life.

Fingers digging into his scalp, you evoked a muffled groan from your royal lover, who nipped at your lower lip and tentatively ran over it with his tongue, asking for access. Who were you to not oblige, especially when he asked so nicely? In no time, he dipped into a deeper kiss, exploring you, memorising you all over again as though you did not visit him both when he was awake and in his dreams. He was feverish, erratic, his plush reddened lips were leaving trails over your cheeks, the crook right before your shoulder and moved back to evoke a quiet moan out of you by paying special attention to the sensitive spots on your neck.

The red dress was a rose, a promise, divine dedication to him - the same material as that of his own clothes, the colour of the details on the coat which in a joint effort you and him were practically ripping away - the body harness already long gone, to reveal a flowing black shirt. Resting your arms on his strong shoulders you gave into every sensation, fingers instinctively finding their place carding through his locks, you followed his lead and stumbled backwards until an unexpected fabric hit the back of your head, making you gasp into another kiss. With a low growl and unprecedented annoyance, Seonghwa pushed the curtain that served as a divider between the office and meeting area of his chambers and the segment he used as his bedroom. Not quite the same as what his quarters used to be in the castle, but thanks to his military precision and tidiness, went above and beyond what one would expect from a rebel hellbent on chaos.

It was dizzying - his hands travelling across your body, his hot breath against your skin as he battled the same dress he had implored you to craft and wear, his simultaneously sultry and threatening glare that immediately subdued you as soon as you tried to remove yourself from him to help. No words, only a muted command, and in a matter of moments, you felt a coldness crawl up your spine as Seonghwa expertly undid the buttons on your dress. Goosebumps involuntarily appeared on your skin, erased by your lover’s quick hand.

“Is my darling cold?” he rubbed your back, the intensity and affection forming a combination excruciating for your heart. You shook your head, not wanting for him to worry, though the decision resulted in quite the opposite, “You know it is not good to lie, right?”

“I’m sorry-”

“I suppose it is a little… these damned stone walls. Sorry, love, this is far from welcoming.”

“No, please don’t worry…”

“Mm. Then stop me from worrying. Are you cold?”

You were burning up. The contrast between your flesh and the air was stark, and you bit your lower lip in an attempt to suppress another shudder. Seonghwa stepped forward, making your knees buckle as your lower legs hit the edge of the bed. He let you sit, though himself remained hovering above you, casting a shadow. You turned and studied anything and everything in your immediate surroundings, a wave of embarrassment washing over you despite having been with him so many times before. You stopped at the coat that was lying discarded on the floor. The brooches and badges, marking his titles - or at least past titles, in the Royal Military, glistened and induced a pang of anxiety. Were you living in an illusion by hoping for the past to return? A hand under your chin returned you to the present, and your misty eyes were forced to meet Seonghwa. What was a vexed, darkened expression melted away, revealing a tinge of concern uncharacteristic of his regal image.

“Talk to me,” crouching down to your level, you felt blush rising on your cheeks.

“...A bit…”

“There, see. Easy. Now, do you trust me?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

“So, burn with me, my love,” purposefully implying, he gave space. But if he was the flame, then you were the air, quickly disintegrating as the orange and red blaze consumed the vital essence. You had no chance, or choice, your only answer was his name, repeated over and over and over again until you knew nothing else.

Every single one of your senses was consumed by him and the near unbearable warmth shared between two bodies connected under heavy sheets. Brain turned to cotton, much like the blanket that was currently muffling your cries of pleasure, you were being kept from writhing only by Seonghwa’s iron grip. Thighs pinned to your upper body, he had you folded in half as he licked strips up your soaked folds, toying with your abused clit before sliding his tongue deeper, relishing in how your walls clenched around him, begging for more. Pathetic whines were music to his ears, prompting him to move until his nose was almost pressed against the overstimulated bundle of nerves and he could relentlessly fuck into you.

Addicted to the scent and taste of your arousal, he was not giving you any room to breathe, nor to recover from your first orgasm, and instead launched directly into building you up for another. You were a masterpiece, giving up to salacious ecstasy for him so easily, adoring words spilling out of you even though you were barely capable of constructing a proper sentence. The sheer notion of having such impressive power, and you giving up ownership of your personal euphoria to him made him want to stay in this position together.

“Mine-” he muttered, barely audible as he coated his tongue in your nectar and rolled it over your clit.

You yelped and threw your head back as a sensation resembling an electric shock hurried through you. Grasping at the bedsheets until your knuckles were turning white, the last image of your lover before he immersed you in artificial darkness was haunting you - his devilish smirk when you shyly nodded in agreement, his virtually lewd scrutiny as he studied your reactions to him ridding you of the dress, to him immediately disposing of your bra, and to him playing with your thin panties, occasionally dipping into your dripping heat to tease you. And then, when he deemed you ready enough, you were in a world where nothing and no one existed except Seonghwa.

The knot that was building in your core was ready to snap at any moment. You could not breathe. You were seeing stars and you were mewling for Seonghwa despite him being right there between your legs, taking you apart. Sensing your oncoming climax, your prince braved letting go of one of your quivering thighs in favour of pressing down on both with one arm, while the other landed directly on your bud, fingers masterfully flicking it while he curled into your hole, pulsating motion inciting wanton squelching from your heat, amplified by the confined space under the duvet.

“Hwa- I-” the nickname spilled out of your mouth by accident, though it seemed that the prince did not mind. Instead he hummed and sped up once more, only to send you over the edge.

Lapping up your release, he guided you through your high and greeted you on your way down, his hands acting as a stabilising force that kept your shaking limbs, and you safe. Seonghwa nipped at your inner thighs, exhaling sharply in amusement when upon teasingly dragging a finger across your pussy you gasped, thighs instinctively trying to bring themselves together. But your lover was quicker than that, lifting himself up until he was hovering over your fragile frame with a knee pressed against your heat. The sheets slid down his form, stopping just past the middle of his back - enough to reveal the glistening orgasm on his face, his half lidded eyes and parted, gorgeous lips. He flicked his tongue - a habit occasionally turned into intentional provocation. Pupils blown, expression animalistic, ravenous, he needed more. To bear the scalding hot oasis that you shared, he had torn off his clothing. Though now, he could no longer bear the aching of his erection that was rubbing against your stomach, rapidly coating it in pearly translucent beads of precum. Hips moving on their own accord, he started to rut against you to gain at least some form of friction.

“Still hmph- cold?” he asked, unfiltered mockery clear in his voice.

“Please, Seonghwa- need you in-”

“So fucked out you can’t even - ah, answer my question?” he cut you off, keeping the teasing demeanour all the while his dick was throbbing painfully against you, “I s-said, a-are you cold? Finally catching on, you agreed with him.

“Yes, I… need more. Please,”

“How do you need more, my greedy darling? Hm?” stopping his rocking, he took to rolling one of your hard nipples between his fingers, taking in your every breath, sigh, and the rolling of the eyes as you felt a tug shoot straight to your core.

“-want you to fuck me,”

“Mhm-”

“-want your cock inside me-”

“Yes-”

“-want you to fill me up ple-”

“Say that again,” in less than a second, his nose was against yours and you were peering straight into his soul, finding an inexhaustible danger. His breathing had gotten considerably shallower, and you swore you felt his cock twitch.

“Fill me up, Hwa, I- please-”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he pushed your legs further apart before tapping you on your hip to adjust your positioning. Eagerly, you followed his request hissing at the sensation of his tip teasing your burning heat before Seonghwa bottomed out, the mixture of slick and precum offering a delicious glide.

He leaned forwards, his bare chest against yours as he shared your state of enchantment awestruck as the torchlight gave up its final battle, only to be replaced by the beginnings of a full moon. You were a goddess in blue and silver that gleamed around the thick curtain, your glassy eyes so innocently sharing feelings he had never dared to express openly that he could not help but plant one peck after another over your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally, the lips. The scalding friction of skin against skin started to resemble a prolonged embrace, and when Seonghwa slowly dragged his length against your clenching walls, he mused if in another life, you could be connected like this for all of eternity.

You offered him the true meaning of ‘unconditional’. You trusted him without a second thought, and were ready to throw away the stability you had within the castle walls in favour of a probability. Your optimism intrigued Seonghwa, and he knew he was in danger of falling in love. In fact, he had been this way since long before finding out his enemies were all beside him at the dinner table every evening, and that only in the most critical moments could he discover his real allies. If he were any more free of the burdens permanently clinging onto his shoulders, the prince would have confessed to you. For now, however, he had the freedom how you fell apart beneath him, so deliciously gullible, drunk in lust.

With each languid thrust into your weeping cunt, he was silently singing your praises, thanking you for every day that you had shared with him, for every night that you had proved that you did not abandon him. As he picked up the rhythm, your melodic pants and whines accentuated the lewd squelching and at the same time sent his mind into overdrive. He loved the time he had with you, the time when nothing existed except instinct and what he could only call a union written in the stars. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip as his pumping grew erratic and you tightened around him as you reached your high. He let out a whimper, vision impossibly blurry and growing darker as he could barely fight the weight of his eyelids. As he moaned your name, Seonghwa, accepted his violent addiction to your pleasure and your pain as you clambered for the remnants of your sanity in the midst of an overdriven climax. Thick ropes of cum coated your spongy walls and Seonghwa stilled his hips, unable to maintain even a frantic, stuttering pace any longer. Your arms collapsed to your sides, leaving behind marks where you had driven your nails into his perfectly tan skin. The fullness made you impossibly weak, and you fell back onto the pillows, taking Seonghwa with you. Having collapsed under the weight of ecstasy, your lover rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delectable scent of sex and desire.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the secluded chamber where Prince Seonghwa had found temporary solace and transformed it into the cradle of a new world to come. You, his loyal companion and confidante, or at least that was how you decisively wished to name yourself in the midst of uncertainty, nestled against him, your fingers intertwined. The weight of Seonghwa's destiny bore down on his shoulders, and the weight of you in his arms offered a fleeting respite.

Seonghwa's eyes traced the delicate features of your face, bathed in the gentle moonlight. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and determination. "I can no longer bear the burden of this false exile,” he was returning to the present, the only remnants of the beautifully turbulent night being his slightly swollen lips, gravelly voice and dishevelled sweaty hair which had just begun to curl. “The time has come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I just… I just hope it all comes together."

Your sleepy gaze met Seonghwa's, understanding and unwavering support evident even in the semi-darkness. "I'll stand by your side, Seonghwa, no matter the peril that awaits us. Together, we'll face the storm and emerge stronger.” It was easy to hope and easy to pass the tasks to the next person in the relay, so you wondered if your words held any meaning to your lover. When it was just the two of you, it was easy to worship the art of hedonism and forget impending doom. If only you could erase his own thoughts from his mind. Be selfish. With a soft shake of the head you dismiss the impending sourness, choosing instead to focus on the heavenly fatigue, like cotton, enveloping your and Seonghwa’s bodies.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Seonghwa pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of your connection was a stark contrast to the cold reality awaiting you outside the chamber walls. For a moment, you existed in your own sanctuary, shielded. The room echoed with the soft rustle of fabric as Seonghwa shifted to hold you even closer. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent reassurance that he cherished this stolen moment of peace. In the midst of the impending uprising, Seonghwa found a panacea in your arms, a haven that anchored him and convinced him that what he was doing was a necessary evil. You nestled into Seonghwa's chest, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

"Promise me we'll make it through this," You whispered, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Seonghwa's chest. You knew that no matter how he would answer, it would be hollow, for only fate could be aware and decide the outcome.

Seonghwa pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise, my love. We'll face the challenges together, and when the dust settles, we'll build a kingdom. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

“My queen.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Today, these are words. Tomorrow, the world can be ours,” you succumbed to his cruel hypnosis, not daring to ask for his methods, nor for his confessions. The less questions you asked Seonghwa, the happier you could pretend to be, and the grander was the castle in your sky.

The weight of your shared destiny hung heavily in the air, yet in the quiet cocoon of your embrace, the two of you had found your own religion. As the first light of dawn approached, you remained entwined, drawing strength from each other to face the tumultuous path that awaited you - a path that would lead you to a ferocious battle, deciding centuries to come in the timespan of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

“Will I ever be forgiven?”

“Who is there to forgive you?” After some deliberation, you dared to query. In one reckless sweep, you ignited every shadow of hesitation, leaving you only with unconditional, pure love that would carry you through any hardship. The one thing you had left, unfortunately unbreakable.

In the faint light of the rising sun, crawling into the room and coating it in magnificent gold, the man who you so adored and was devoted to was in every form a soul condemned to eternal hellfire; you were fully aware of that. A tarnished being marked as dead before he could even begin to spread his wings. Feathers strewn across what used to be a kingdom meant for him to rule being the only remnant of the brutal betrayal. The devilishly handsome traitor or trailblazer sharing his bed with you was not supposed to exist. And yet, it was his voice, his touch, his scent that occupied your every pore and thought, the owner’s name being carved into you over and over again until you forgot the bigger picture, focusing only on what Seonghwa could envision and how you could achieve that priceless peaceful kingdom.

“Now that is a question I would be interested in figuring out the answer to…”

“Both of us are unforgivable. Cannot repent, cannot start again,” you turned to face him, captivated by the way the sun highlighted his features, “but we can go forward. Until the hands of time stop us.”

As the two of you drifted into a dreamless slumber - a luxury serving as a calm before the storm, you comforted yourself with the fact that in some sense, nothing was going to change just like the darkness that came with your dozing. One fallen leaf, or soldier, would replace another, one snowflake would twirl in pursuit of its partner, one Park would return his crown from the other. In the grand scheme of things, it was still the neverending winter, a late dawn, and the same dynasty, the embodiment of which you prayed was in your adoring and calculating embrace.

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velvetlilacsdaisies · 3 months

Text

Five More Minutes | B. Durran |

Bodhi Durran x established gf! Reader

Synopsis: you wanted five more minutes to sleep

Word count: 1k

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, smuttiness, implied smut? Not proofread well probs

A/n: sorry for being horny on the main lmao, this was supposed to be fluff, I don’t how I got here 🤥 anyways this is my first published smutty blurb attempt so please be gentle! This was a bit out of my comfort zone tbh but I had fun lol. I hope you enjoy!

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding—you slapped the knob on the side of the alarm clock on the bedside for the second time that morning, snoozing it once again. Five more minutes. Going to your morning lesson was no longer the tedious feat as it was in Basigath now you were at the Riorson House. So five extra minutes wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes. Arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer into the broad warm chest you were so accustomed to. Smiling lightly, wrapping your hands around Bodhi’s forearms as he peppered small kisses to the back of your shoulder savoring the feeling of his closeness.

“Snoozing the alarm clock again?” His voice was raspy from sleep, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“And if I did?” You tilted your head to the side, feeling his lips press even more warm soft kisses up underneath your ear. The sensation sends waves of warmth through your body, and you feel the heat settle deep in your core.

His fingers rubbed small circles into your exposed waist where his sleep shirt you wore rose. “Y/n/n…” he warned.

You smirked lazily, turning in his arms to face him. You pushed his shoulder back so he was laying flat on the bed, and climbed on top of him straddling his waist. You rubbed your hands down his muscular torso softly, eliciting a sigh from his full lips. He looked so handsome when he first woke up, and your insides practically turned to molten lava at the sight of the relic that trailed up his arm to the side of his neck contrasting against his tawny skin. You could have traced the intricate patterns and swirls for hours never getting tired of doing so.

“What’s five more minutes gonna hurt?” You asked innocently. You reached up to brush a few of the dark unruly curls that laid in his face then caressing his cheek, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

He leaned into your touch, kissing your palm as he opened his eyes looking up at you. His own hands had found your bare thighs massaging lightly.

The light streamed into his bedroom, radiating golden rays over him and you. There was something about you on top of him in nothing but your underwear and his shirt that was angelic. With your bedhead and the watery gaze from your slumber was so sexy to him watching a small pout form on your lips.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his grip tightening the slightest on your thighs. “I’m section leader, and if they catch you—a cadet— in my room…“

You cut him off by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his cheeks. He kissed you back, the tenderness and sweetness ebbing between you two swelled at your heart. You bit his lower lip, a soft moan leaving his mouth, and your tongue slipped into the mouth deepening the kiss even more. Your hands wrapped into his hair, and his found their way to your backside kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

As angelic as you were in the morning light, you were an evil woman, he had thought, feeling the familiar twitch of his cock.

“We’re gonna be late, Y/n.” He protested as he pulled for a breath before you kissed him again.

“So,” you panted. You wanted to lay in Bodhi’s bed forever with him, everything had a looming grey over it lately with the revolution, everything except for the sanctuary in these four walls you found with him.

“Babygirl,” he groaned, his eyes screwing shut when he felt your hand trail down his torso. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. Aetos will have my head again if I’m la—“ his words stopped short when a loud knock from the door startled the both of you.

“Section Leader Durran, I know you and Cadet Y/l/n are in there.” Garrick’s voice sounded from behind the wood, and you could hear the giggles of Imogen from beside him. “And let me tell you, Aetos is already planning some colorful punishments for the both of you.” You could hear him stifling a laugh as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes as you went back to pressing open mouth kisses on his prominent jaw line, and Bodhi tensed fighting the moan that wanted to tumble out of his mouth. He grabbed your hips to try to stop you, but you kept working your way down the column of his throat.

“We’ll be down to briefing in a second!” Bodhi called.

“Briefing starts now though, section leader!” Imogen mockingly retorted.

“Five minutes!” He called out, his teeth gritting together when he felt you start grinding slowly against him. His resolve deteriorated when it came to you. And his resolve was nonexistent as he felt your wetness seep through your panties. He mentally cursed to himself, feeling his bulge harden. You two weren’t going to even make it to the briefing at this point.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you!” Imogen and Garrick merely laughed from behind the door as the sounds of their footsteps retreated.

You looked up at him through your lashes, and his usually honeyed brown eyes were darkened with the familiar haze of lust. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he rolled you off of him, and flipped you on to the mattress.

“This is going to be worth every punishment and more.” He growled darkly into your ear then kissed the sweet spot right under it, a small gasp escaping from you as he did so.

The five minutes turned to fifty five minutes to say the least. And when you showed up to the second lesson of the day facing an angry Dain Aetos, Bodhi couldn't help but wink at you once you two got scolded, not mad at all you were an hour late.

Eeeep!! I hope you guys enjoyed! 💞 feedback is definitely appreciated since this is my first smutty blurb! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated too 🫶

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returnsandreturns · 7 months

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"A bookshop doesn't seem particularly demonic," Crowley says, ambling around browsing the shelves like he'll find hardcore pornography or illustrated instructions for ritualistic sacrifices.

"Oh, books are insidious," Aziraphale says, watching him fondly. "They can start wars, spark revolution, drive humans to lust or love or hate. . .foundation of their culture, really. I mean, the Bible alone."

"You said we wouldn't talk about the Bible," Crowley says, giving him a wounded look. "You make me consider things and it becomes an ethical issue and I still think that Heaven's going to arrest me for thought crimes."

"The fact that you think that of Heaven seems like it might be a thought crime in and of itself," Aziraphale says, laughing when Crowley turns to sink backward against one of the shelves, glaring at him over a copy of Paradise Lost that Aziraphale thinks he might actually enjoy in an amusing, conflicted way if he'd just sit down for long enough to read it. "I don't think they're listening to your thoughts, angel. At the very least, they don't seem to have noticed how often you think about me."

He can see Crowley blushing from his nose up, smiling when he raises the book even higher before turning to put it back on the shelf, saying, "I don't know what you're talking about. I never know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," Aziraphale says, warmly.

"I suppose Hell isn't keeping a close eye on you," Crowley says, still turned away from him. "Willingly fraternizing with an angel and all."

"Fraternizing," Aziraphale murmurs, under his breath, getting up to pluck a book off a different shelf and turn Crowley around gently, barely pushing him up against the shelf he's been hiding his face in. Crowley's breath catches and Aziraphale thinks about it. He'll never do it but he'll surely think about it. "I can just tell them I'm exposing you to the dangers of erotic literature. Try this."

Crowley's eyes map his whole face suspiciously before he opens the copy of 120 Days of Sodom that Aziraphale pressed into his chest to a random page, reading for five seconds before he gasps and snaps it shut.

"Be nice to my books," Aziraphale warns.

"Stop acting like a--demon and I will be," Crowley says, passing the book back to him.

"Can't," Aziraphale says, simply, reaching up to poke Crowley gently on the nose just to see him make a face before he swans away. "I am one."

#good omens #reverse omens #my fic #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS CASUALLY AND NOT BREATHING HEAVILY WHILE SLUMPED OVER MY LAPTOP

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butchkelev · 6 months

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Every time a trans butch gets dysphoric an angel dies 💔❤️‍🩹

Still miserable at captions as you can see… ah! This is my top surgery fun_d post but nsft ;) I have the original up on @butch4maryoliver if you’re curious, but I wanted to keep that sfw and open the sexual conversation up here.

A large part of my fluctuating sex repulsion comes from my extreme dysphoria I’ve felt ever since puberty. I refused to kiss or cuddle or think about getting romantically or sexually close with anyone because I believed nobody could treat my body right with all of my shame and insecurities. After graduating from high school and going on a destructive sexual spree with a bunch of older cis men who saw me as nothing more than a fetish, I took a (very difficult) step back and realized I needed a sexual revolution within myself. It’s taken me a while to let go of a lot of junk I held onto, and I’m still very much a work-in-progress, but now I’m looking forward to realizing sexual liberation in my own life, and that cannot come without gender affirming care. I long to be free to wear (and feel) whatever clothes I want, to express myself with others in sexual productions, to have one less glaring fear against intimacy, both physical and mental.

I wrote a lot more in my gfm bio if you’d like to read up on my financial and living situation and a bit more of my history. If you love my curvy trans body and want to see more of me—especially outside of plain cropped photos— the way to go is through helping me get this surgery :) I honestly love sw when I’m not sex repulsed and dysphoric and insecure, it’s been such an incredible way to express myself, but it’s been awful feeling so limited and scared. Help me out and I’ll give you a video or audio treat of about 1.5-3 minutes!! Anything you want, specially made for you and your commands ❤️‍🩹 I also used c/a, $boyohboy8 ;) Thank you forever!!!!!

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yuesya · 8 months

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The sudden earthquake is… not entirely unexpected, in retrospect, although it’s certainly overkill. Suguru knows that Satoru has a flair for the dramatic, and Shiki is always eager to join her brother’s chaotic schemes. Without a voice of reason around to run herd on them, those tendencies of theirs are probably even worse in this world.

… In this world where Geto Suguru is dead, killed as a curse user intent on committing mass slaughter. He still has trouble imagining what his alternate self was thinking, honestly. Sorcerers are only a minuscule portion of the entire population; what did he think would actually happen if he’d somehow managed to succeed in basically wiping out humanity?

Utterly inconceivable.

“That was Gojo-sensei, right?” Itadori’s voice sounds from behind one of the makeshift barricades. The Itadori in this world is a little more jaded and solemn than the cheerful first year student that Suguru remembers, which is… saddening. But then, considering the boy’s experiences –Yoshino dying, Satoru and Shiki being sealed, Nanami dying, Kugisaki in a coma, Sukuna using his body to kill and kill and kill in Shibuya… and, more recently, Sukuna switching to Fushiguro as his new host…

It’s a miracle that the boy hasn’t broken beneath the pressures and horrors of everything that’s happened since he became a sorcerer. He’s a strong, resilient boy, although Suguru dearly wishes that he hadn’t been tested in this way.

“Seems about right for Gojo,” Tsukumo responds. The tall woman stands up, brushing off dust from her hands. There’s a large scar down her midsection, courtesy of the fight against ‘Kenjaku,’ but between three Special Grades, they’d been able to win decisively, even though the slippery man had managed to escape at the end. “Can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

Boy had it been weird, fighting ‘himself.’ The memory of the fight is enough to make Suguru cringe. He knows that it’s not actually ‘him,’ but seeing his body being saying those sorts of things and making those expressions…

If Suguru’s Satoru or Shiki had been here to see it, they’d never let him live it down, gods.

“Thank you for unsealing Gojo-sensei,” Okkotsu nods towards the angel-winged girl drifting down from the sky. Kurusu smiles, making an ‘okay’ sign with her fingers. “… Where is he, though? And that earthquake just now, too… is he–”

Suguru’s head snaps up; Tsukumo looks up, too, half a beat behind him.

“He’s here.”

Satoru’s teleportation is a thing to behold. One instant, there’s nothing in the air above them, then in the blink of an eye, he’s standing there. Prison Realm clearly hasn’t been kind to him and Shiki. Satoru is definitely looking a little ragged, and his clothes are significantly tattered. But despite that, he looks down upon them with glowing eyes, calm and confident–

A single blink. His composure wavers, and breaks.

Then, he’s standing right in front of Suguru. The suddenness of the motion causes the dimension-hopper to startle, taking half a step backwards–

“… Suguru?” Satoru –and there’s no doubt that this is all Satoru, even if he’s not Suguru’s Satoru– frowns. His Six Eyes gleam, sharp and analyzing. “No. You are, but you’re still not…”

“Bit of a long story,” Tsukumo cuts in. “In short, this is Geto Suguru from another world parallel to ours, where he decided to go the path of teaching like you did instead of bloody revolution.”

“Can you please not put it that way?” Suguru rubs a hand against his forehead, distinctly pained.

“What? I think that summary explains things pretty well. Right, Gojo?”

Satoru hums, straightening up with a thoughtful sound. “Huh… from another world, you say?”

“Sensei!”

The students finally catch up to them, swarming around Gojo-sensei like excited puppies. It warms something inside Suguru’s chest to see them like this –the students of this world are (understandably) wary of him, given his alternate self’s actions, but it’s clear that they care for and trust their Gojo-sensei.

He’s not surprised, when Satoru pulls him aside for a private chat, eventually. If the relationship that he and his sister had had with their Suguru was anything like what he had with them back in his world…

No, Suguru definitely isn’t surprised.

It’s also a good chance for him to ask his own questions, because this confusion has been gnawing at him for a long time. “How did Kenjaku get the drop on you, with Shiki watching your back?”

The familiar-unfamiliar man tilts his head. His lips move, forming a single question that makes Suguru’s blood run cold.

“Who’s Shiki?”

#Writing #zenith of stars au #twin cannons au #in this verse it was suguru + tsukumo + choso v. kenjaku #they won #but kenjaku escaped #gojo unboxing scene sorta

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floralcyanide · 5 months

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⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

― ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ !

∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ !

∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ !

∿ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ HERE ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ !

― 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 ⬎

Fool’s Paradise - XYLØ

❝Turn off the TV, your suit and tie and hair all wrong. I had a bad dream, your face was on a dollar bill.❞

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

❝I don't know how you convince them and get them, babe. ; You're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man.❞

All Shook Up - Avila

❝Please don't ask me what's on my mind, I'm a little mixed up but I'm feelin' fine.❞

Touch - Daughter

❝Love, hunt me down. I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes.❞

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde

❝There's a room where the light won't find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. When they do, I'll be right behind you.❞

American - Lana Del Rey

❝You make me crazy, you make me wild.❞

Us Against the World - Coldplay

❝The Devil as he's talking with those angel's eyes. ; Through chaos as it swirls. It's us against the world.❞

America - XYLØ

❝Real life is make-believe, all that glitters isn't gold to me. ❞

Something - Elvis Presley

❝Somewhere in her smile, she knows. All I gotta do is think about her.❞

Candy Girl - Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

❝I've been a-searchin' all this wide world, now finally I've found my candy girl.❞

National Anthem - Lana Del Rey

❝I'm your national anthem, God, you're so handsome. ; Red, white, blue is in the sky. Summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes.❞

Evergreen - BROODS

❝Since we found out that we're invincible, we've been living in a dream world. ; Only lost to be found, you're my hero now.❞

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

❝Nothing's gonna hurt you baby, as long as you're with me you'll be just fine. ❞

December, 1963 (Oh, What A Night!) - Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

❝Oh, what a night! Late December, back in '63. What a very special time for me. As I remember, what a night.❞

Chemtrails Over the Country Club - Lana Del Rey

❝You're in the wind, I'm in the water. Nobody's son, nobody's daughter, watching the chemtrails over the country club.❞

Gold - Echos

❝I've got intentions of gold with my plans.❞

Young God - Halsey

❝He says, "Ooh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends. I'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven. ; But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods.❞

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You - Frankie Valli

❝Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay. And let me love you, baby, let me love you.❞

Neptune - Sleeping At Last

❝I'm only honest when it rains. If I time it right, the thunder breaks when I open my mouth.❞

Meltdown - Stromae, Lorde, Pusha T, Q-Tip, HAIM

❝Who to trust? Who to love? Who to run from? Who to hug? Respect only comes from the money or your blood.❞

you should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish

❝Bite my tongue, bide my time. Wearing a warning sign. Wait 'til the world is mine.❞

Dead End Love - XYLØ

❝I'm still lost in the maze of your mind, I'm never getting out again.❞

Before the Fever - Grimes

❝This is the sound of the end of the world. Dance me to the end of the night, be my girl. ; They will kill us, oh, have no doubt. There are many ways in, but there's only one way out.❞

Golden - Harry Styles

❝You're so golden. I'm out of my head, and I know that you're scared because hearts get broken.❞

My Eyes Adored You - John Lloyd Young

❝Headed for city lights, climbed the ladder up to fortune and fame. I worked my fingers to the bone, made myself a name.❞

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have – but I have it - Lana Del Rey

❝There's a new revolution, a loud evolution that I saw. ; Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but I have it.❞

Eyes Open - Taylor Swift

❝Everybody's waiting for you to break down, everybody's watching to see the fallout. Even when you're sleeping, sleeping, keep your eyes open.❞

We Remain - Christina Aguilera

❝So, burn me with fire, drown me with rain. I’m gonna wake up screaming your name. ; Whatever happens here, we remain.❞

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opbackgrounds · 8 months

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What's your favorite mythological/historical reference in OP?

I like how both of Robin's epithets (and character) relate to Lucifer. I don't think Devil/Demon Child needs much explanation, but the Light of the Revolution is nicely linked to the name's meaning ("Lightbringer") and the fact that it was the Angel who rebelled against God. I also like the whole City of Gold is based on Aztec tropes. Aztecs (Mexicas) did have tons of gold and made their stuff out of it. You can see Quetzalcóatl faces among the ruins, and Nola might be even inspired by that as well.

Can’t claim to have known this existed before the Gear 5 reveal, but assuming it isn’t a massive coincidence I think it’s really cool Oda drew on a lesser known mythology for his main character.

#sarc talks

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devildomwriter · 3 months

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“My brothers and I were originally angels. That was back before the Great Celestial War—before we were cast out. Lucifer incited a revolution against our father, and we aligned ourselves with him. Those who followed our father fought against those who followed Lucifer. That was the Great Celestial War. In the end, our father crushed our rebellion, and cast us out of the Celestial Realm. During the battle, my sister Lilith’s wing was pierced by an arrow. Both Belphie and I saw it. It happened right in front of our eyes… She fell down out of the heavens and…died. Just before Lilith was shot, I saw angels from the opposing side draw their bows and aim at both her and Belphie. I couldn’t save them both…the three of us were too far apart. I knew I’d only be able to get to one of them in time. Then suddenly Belphie’s eyes met mine…and just like that, I rushed over to him and shielded him from the attack. I wasn’t able to save Lilith. She died. And it was my fault.”

— Beelzebub to MC (Chapter 6-1)

#obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub quotes #obey me celestial war #obey me celestial realm #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me quote of the day #obey me quotes #obey me chapter 6

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