lunar valleys in my mind

din's moonlight ☁︎ levi's lover 𓇼 sanji's artist

[djarinova]

𓂃 ˖° ｡ﾟem/sage ｡ twenty5 | writer, selfshipper, heavy user of the rb + lover of all things green ☀︎

VERY multi fandom | there will be 18+ and dark content ahead, mdni ☀︎

⋆.˚ masterlist 𓆉 lovers 𓇼 byf 𓆉 tags — ao3 ˚.⋆

recents 𓂃 comfort blanket - sam winchester // chocolate chip cookies - sanji // burning up for you - din djarin // droplets - din djarin

prev. purespidey ➛ jjemcarstairs ➛ cptnleviackerman

[inadoves]

been on a crazy crazy sammy kick.. age gap fauxcest w sam… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 … he loves comforting reader and cradling her when she cries her eyes out cuz she’s been so lonely / touch starved/ overlooked. and he loves comforting his sweet girl.

even though she tries very hard to be smart and independent and he just loves making her completely dependent on him. in and out of bed. praising her so nice and doting on her till she lets the dad/daddy title slip out . #needthat

okay i have another ask that’s very similar to this one so i’m going to kill two birds with one stone here lol.

sam lovessss a younger gf i don’t really make the rules but he does. it’s either years older or years younger there is no in between bc he’s in it… and if his gf is just a little too independent it infuriates him because he loves loves loves taking care of you so much. he feels kind of useless if he isn’t doing something for you despite how much you seem to be able to handle your own.

he really likes it when you get upset like this in his own weird way, when you come to him because you’re just a blubbering mess and don’t know what to do because you’d never been able to regulate yourself too well. he steps up like any good man should.

sam holds at your waist, gently bringing you into his lap and letting you lay on top of him while you sob. his large hand rubs at your back, cooing softly and kissing at your temple. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he says, that low, almost gravelly whisper filling your ears through your sniffles. you shake your head and shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into him. you feel like a small child, curled into his warm embrace protectively. “i-i don’t know. i feel like- like shit.”

he doesn’t try to press about it, just smooths your hair out of your face and brushes a thumb against your earlobe. “yeah?” he exhales. “hon’, maybe you’re really tired. you’ve been out and about the entire week.” that’s true. every day you leave early and come late, sleep in your shared bed with your back turned in fetal position. he knows because he always wakes up to your body rustling under the covers after a close to 2am shower.

you scoff through sniffles and blurred vision. “no, that’s not it. i’d never cry for something so stupid.”

gently, he pulls your head from out of his neck and forces you to look up at him. your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, every scrunch of your nose is that of a bunny. “come on.” he sighs, brushing a stray tear from your cheek and cradling your face. he takes in your trembling lip, eyes squinting through sensitive pupils while the artificial light above sinks in. you can’t help but burst into tears again. he just looks at you in such a kind, knowing way, like he’s telling you he understands even though he has no idea why the hell you’re crying in the first place.

you let him pepper your face with kisses, sweet pecks over your wet cheeks as you sob like a baby. it would be humiliating with anyone else, but sam isn’t just anyone else.

“it’s okay to be upset, sweetheart.” he murmurs against your skin, leaning his head away to stare at you. you nod somewhat, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands. you’re tired now, eyes heavy behind your skull. he can tell. he pulls you back in, leaning back against the mattress while you nestle against his chest again, cheek firmly pressed at his pecs. he brushes his fingers into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

“feel better?” he whispers. you hum softly, a croaky noise from the bottom of your throat. “yeah.. thanks, dad.” it’s an absentminded slip of the tongue. you didn’t mean it, and you don’t register it until sam kind of makes a weird noise. “..dad?” his hand stills and he twists his head to look at you. you furrow your brows, looking up at him. “what?”

honestly, it doesn’t feel bad to be called that. and it’s so obvious you didn’t realize you said it he doesn’t want to spoil your calmness. he shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. “nothing. just hearing things.”

[djarinova]

need some incredibly emotionally charged sex right about now

[sirenstarrs]

Imagine the DCA learning your cues so well that you don’t even need to say a word. That Sun can tell when your shoulders slump and your head is a little too lowered, so he places a hand on your shoulder and says a joke to get your attention. To any outsider it may look like he is being his usual ‘cheerful’ self (the one that he reserves for the Daycare and the kids he cares for there), but there’s a subtle way that his thumb rubs along your shoulder and you know he is asking if you’re okay, without saying it. That Moon places a plate of food in front of you because you ‘looked tired’ (even though he’d rather you just sleep at that moment). But it was because he hadn’t seen you eat that day and could tell by the way you would sometimes clutch at your stomach that you were hungry.

Imagine knowing them just as intricately. Knowing that when Sun’s hands fidget subtly he is nervous, even if his faceplate doesn’t show it. Imagine being able to gauge Moon’s mood by simply knowing that if he grows a little too still, something is wrong. Knowing how they’re feeling by the subtle ways their body shows it, just like they do for you.

Imagine…

[djarinova]

HELLO?????

[bollcks]

THE BOYS 1x04 | The Female of the Species

[djarinova]

ˑ ִֶָ ꒰ comfort blanket ꒱ — sam winchester

content. gn!reader, fluff, cuddling, established relationship. wc; 862.

It's lazy, the way Sam pulls you into his lap, like he knows you're putty in his hands the second his fingertips dance across your lower back.

In fact, he knows you'll lean into his touch, prop yourself up onto your palms and let him move you into the seat that was made for you, without evening questioning it.

And you do.

His hands crowd your waist, so large against your frame, and he wraps an arm tight around your body as you fidget.

"I wouldn't have moved you onto my lap if I didn't want you here, okay?" His voice is low. His breath fans your ear, sending shivers across your neck and down your spine.

You still. With a slow nod you melt into him, letting his arms draw you closer, a wave of relaxation washing over you as his thumb begins to rub soft circles on your hip bone, just below the hem of your shirt.

You crane your neck over your shoulder when you hear him exhale shakily and you raise your eyebrow in question. Red flecks of embarrassment litter his cheeks, lighting him up the most adorable shade of rouge.

Oh.

You smile, running your tongue along your teeth as you turn back around. Sam's laptop sits in front of you, endless numbers of tabs are open on the browser and you can see his scribbled notes littering the table behind the screen.

Whatever the issue you're dealing with is, it won't be solved tonight, you're certain of it.

"Time to take a break, baby?" You whisper, pulling Sam's hand into yours and pressing a soft kiss to his palm.

He hums affirmatively, leaning around you and shutting his laptop with a flick of his wrist. The weariness from the hours he's spent staring at his screen are already catching up with him, his eyes ache and there's a low pain in the back of his head that he knows is going to turn into a ruthless headache in the next hour or so.

With a sigh he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, shifting you further back into his lap.

If you feel him shudder beneath you you're polite enough not to mention it—or perhaps you're just biding your time, waiting to tease him when he least expects it.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo, once, twice, and lets it wash over him steadily. You feel his body start relaxing almost immediately and he buries his head in your hair for a moment, enjoying the smell of you—the smell of home—before drawing back and leaning his head over the back of the chair.

You don't lean back with him, too afraid of hurting him or making him uncomfortable, but it doesn't take more than a few seconds for Sam to miss your body's warmth.

He shifts abruptly, sitting bolt upright and hoisting an arm beneath your knees. He breathes out a whisper of "ready?" and then he's standing, walking towards the bed and plopping you down onto the well worn motel mattress.

You land with a grunt, although he was careful not to drop you without bending down first. You both learnt that lesson the hard way.

The first time he'd dropped you from standing height you'd practically bounced off the bed, and instead of spending time wrapped in each others arms you'd been forced to play doctor and nurse—and not in the fun way.

He's quick to follow you, sliding off his flannel and throwing it across the end of the bed before kneeling next to you on the mattress. From this angle he looks like a giant, towering over you at a ridiculous height. You think this must be what people see when they look at him, a tall, serious and intimidating hunter.

But when that smile splits across his face, the one that makes his eyes shine, the facade is broken. He's your Sam again—soft, warm, gentle.

You open your arms wide but he just shakes his head lightly, falling into the space behind you instead. He's quick to wrap his arm around your waist, before carefully manoeuvring you until you're flush against his front. You lift your head before he has the chance to ask and he slips an arm beneath your neck, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

You intertwine your fingers through his and begin to play with them idly. A gentle smile falls across your face and your eyes start to flutter closed before you even have the chance to speak.

You hadn't planned to fall asleep. You'd wanted to relish in the alone time, it's not often the two of you are able to be alone like this—uninterrupted and relatively carefree.

But Sam's touch is like nothing else. The feeling of him being wrapped totally and completely around you is akin to being hugged by sunlight. Warmth radiates off of him, seeping into your skin and flowing down to the darkest depths.

The last thing you remember is his arms squeezing you three times and a soft whisper of your name falling over your ears.

[djarinova]

need to stay behind in the motel room with sam and help him study lore ........... need to try and persuade him to take a break and when he doesn't listen i need to.. show him what he's missing <3

[djarinova]

saw a gifset of ***** and felt my whole body react .. bites him and pushes him and, unfortunately, kisses him

[djarinova]

sam and eileen are so cute omfg:(

[djarinova]

Sanji + 🎀 + seafoam

hopefully i did it correctly 🫠, this is a such a fun idea 💗

you step into the mystic and emerge out into a...

model x photographer au.ᐟ

Sanji smirks as you step up to the platform he's standing on. Your hands flutter around him, readjusting the angle of his chin, the direction of his feet, the way his shirt sits on his shoulders.

It's like he does it on purpose, refuses to listen to your very simple instructions.

But he can't help himself. It's so hard to ignore the way his chest aches when you're away from him, when he has to stand back and watch you converse with the director, the makeup artist, the other photographers—everyone but him.

So he feigns ignorance, pretends he doesn't hear you call out to him, asking him to try a different pose.

He waits until you sigh, that knowing smile ghosting your lips. It's hard for him to hide his bliss when your hands finally touch his skin, the pink dusting on his cheeks sends a beacon shining to everyone in the room.

But you're nothing if not professional. And with a wink you turn on your heel, a shout of "all ready!" falling from your lips as you walk back towards the crew.

And so the cycle repeats, maybe three or four more times, until the shoot is over. Sanji practically falls over his feet rushing out the door. Desperate to get back to his trailer, desperate to be alone with you again, to feel your lips on his, your hands on his arms, your breath on his skin.

want to join? check out this post here for all the information you need!

[bollcks]

THE BOYS 1x05 | Good for the Soul

[djarinova]

he's such a nerdddddd (i need to smother his face in kisses. NOW)

[djarinova]

MOONLIT CONFESSIONS — sanji

synopsis; staring at you in the dimly lit kitchen sanji is overcome by his feelings, prompting a rather abrupt confession & a nose bleed to follow.

content; yearning, blood, kissing, accidental confessions, fluff, touch starved sanji. wc; 2295.

He hadn't meant for it to slip out like that.

Of course he'd been thinking about it. How could he not be when you look as good as you do right now?

You're leaning over the counter, head resting in your hands, mulling over the latest dish that he insisted he needed your guidance in perfecting.

There's so much adoration in your eyes that Sanji swears he could fall right in and drown in it. He would be more than happy to, willing and ready to die with a smile on his face, just like the stories of the sailors who happily fell to their demise with just one word from the sirens, whose voices were sweeter than sugar and a hundred times more deadly.

You're angelic. The low light in the kitchen paired with the occasional shine of moonlight flooding in through the window illuminates you beautifully. The light falls across your face, making your hair glow. It surrounds your head like a halo, lighting you up in a way Sanji can only describe as utterly mesmerising.

Your hums of interest and continuous questions are only making it that much more difficult for him to hold his tongue this evening.

His feelings are aching to burst out. The moment he had admitted it himself all those months ago it was like the flood gates had opened. You were all he could think about.

So he'd started planning, obsessing over the perfect time to tell you. He's been mulling it over in his head for weeks at this point, falling over his feet trying to spend time with you, giving you endless compliments and always watching your face when he served each meal—desperate for the approval that only came when that delighted grin split across your face.

Should it be casual or serious? On an island when you're laughing and giddy with adventure or after dinner when you've offered to help him tidy up?

(Although he hopes you stay with him because you feel the same as him, the rational part of his brain tells him not to overthink it, that you only join him because you want to make his evening chores easier, like you would with any member of the crew.)

Turns out his insescent obsession with telling you how much he adored you was all for nothing.

"It tasted amazing!" You smile, "I'm serious. The lemon gave it just enough tang an—"

"I'm in love with you."

Sanji blanches. A river of crimson begins to fall from his nose and you jump up hastily, running to grab a cloth before Sanji even has the chance to move.

You hands move quickly but your mind doesn't follow suit. You fill a bowl with warm water, testing the temperature with your fingertip and bringing it to your lips to make sure it's not too hot. Too busy trying to stop the onslaught of red falling from Sanji's face, you fail to see his eyes following your fingers, darkening ever so slightly when your lips wrap around them.

You don't even realise the weight of the words that had caused the nosebleed to begin with.

But Sanji is well aware of what he said.

Although it wasn't the time, nor the place that he had wanted to tell you for the first time, it didn't make it any less true.

He is in love with you.

And all he can do now is stand in front of you, as still and unmoving as a statue. His feet are rooted to the floor, the thought of fleeing had crossed his mind briefly but the second your hand came to rest on his arm it was like a bolt of lightning struck him right through the heart.

If anything, your hands on him had made the nosebleed worse.

But it's beginning to slow now, gently you dab the last drop of red from his chin. With a smile you step back, dropping the cloth into the bowl of water to soak.

Sanji feels as though his heart is about to beat out of his chest. His soul is on fire, beads of sweat fall across the back of his neck as he stands waiting for your reply. Gingerly he lifts a hand to your face, praying that you won't move away.

Your eyes widen, but you lean into his touch anyway. It's featherlight on your skin, gentle and uncertain in ways you wouldn't expect from him.

The shock of his hand on your face soon startles your brain into action.

"Wait," you whisper, voice low as if that could hide the wobble of nerves in your throat, "what was that about? Are yo—"

Now it's your turn to blanch. The last few minutes run through your head and just as suddenly as Sanji's nose had started to bleed you feel your skin begin to prickle with warmth.

"Sanji…" You pause, eyes searching for a sign that he regrets what he said, that he wishes he could take it back, that he didnt mean it.

But of course, you find none.

His hands find their way to your waist, the three squeezes he gives you tell you he's serious. His touch is firm, his gaze is unwavering.

You kiss him without thinking. Slinking your arms around his neck you pull him close—so close that you can feel the heat from his skin scorching you. Sanji doesn't waste a second before he's kissing you back, teeth clashing messily as you both smile into the kiss.

There's so much tenderness in how you touch eachother, his shaky hand comes to rest on your cheek again and you find yourself having to blink back tears. You grip his shirt tightly, grounding yourself in his warmth.

When you pull away it is with great reluctance, the fall of your own confession sitting heavily on your tongue. But Sanji chases you as you move, his eyes stay glued to your lips, desperate to kiss you one last time—as if you aren't as addicted to him as he is to you.

"Sanji…" You murmur against his lips, repeating his name in the way only you seem capable of. So full of warmth and affection that it has him wishing to hear it fall from your lips over and over until it barely resembles a word anymore.

Your cheeks are aflame at the way he seems so unwilling to let you go, his hand tightens on your waist at the first sign of you pulling away. With a smile you press a hand to his chest, reluctantly pushing him away as you both take a heavy breath.

The silence that sits between you is weighted, you can feel it on your shoulders, watching as his expression morphs from playful to serious.

"I'm sorry for taking you by surprise, I hadn't meant to spill those words so unceremoniously but… seeing you here, hearing your voice under the sweet moonlight, I couldn't help myself." He pauses, taking your hands in his. "There's no one like you in any corner of the world. Your laughter is infectious, I crave your presence every day, even on the days I'm lucky enough to see you." He sighs, as if readying himself for the words that come next. "I love you. I'm in love with you. And I have been for a long, long time. Your smile, your bravery, your beauty, your talent for recognising when I've pushed myself too far... I would never assume myself to be someone who was worthy of your love, but if you would allow me, I'd love nothing more than a chance to prove my devotion to you."

When he finishes speaking Sanji looks away from you, there's a shimmer running down his cheeks that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. You run your thumb across his cheekbone, sweeping the tear away and directing his focus back towards you with a gently pull.

You smile, your own eyes beginning to brim with tears. "You have nothing to prove to me," is all you say.

And then you're pressing your lips to his again. Pushing against his chest, hands holding him firmly, like he'll disappear if you hold him any looser. Sanji's caught off guard by your sudden ferocity, but he moves with you like the two of you have done this hundreds of times. He follows your lead, letting you push against him, his arms slink around your body and he links one wrist over the other to keep you steady.

His breath is stolen from his lungs when he feels your tongue swipe across his lower lip. A groan escapes his throat and immediately his face heats up.

When you pull away Sanji's face is bright red. You place a sweet kiss to his cheek and then bury your face against his chest. He's warm.

"You..." You sigh, your voice muffled slightly by Sanji's chest.

Your mind runs wild as you lift your head, all those things you had brushed off as nothing more than Sanji's friendly affection—the smiles, the way he never failed to notice when you wore something new and the compliments that came with that. Even the fact that your favourite foods seemed to find their way onto the menu more often than everyone else's... you had convinced yourself that there was nothing to see, that he cared for you the same as he did for Usopp, Nami, Robin.

If you had been this blind to his feelings, how could he have seen yours so clearly?

When you lock eyes with Sanji you're unable to stop a smile from splitting across your face. He matches you with little hesitation, but you can sense that something is keeping him reserved—as reserved as a man who just confessed his love to someone and then had them fall onto his lips can be, anyway.

Oh.

Of course.

You realise with a start what is keeping Sanji so contained.

So, even though your hands are shaking wildly. Even though you've kissed him more times in the last 5 minutes than you ever thought you'd get the opportunity to. Even though you're currently holding his shirt so tightly you think you might tear it soon if you're not careful. You swallow thickly, heart hammering hard against your chest.

And you say the words you know he's waiting to hear.

"I love you, too."

The effect is immediate. Suddenly Sanji's arms tighten around your waist and you find yourself being swept off your feet. You laugh despite your surprise, falling against his chest as you spin in the air. His laughter soon joins yours and the two of you fall into a breathless song of joy.

There's relief on his face when he places you back to the ground. An arm stays on your waist and his other moves to your face, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"You had me worried there, angel." He says, eyes sparkling.

You raise your eyebrows, amused at his words. "Oh, really? The kissing didn't give anything away?"

"I wouldn't dare to be so presumptuous..." He smirks when he speaks, the flicker of hesitation that once hid behind his eyes is now gone, replaced with something much softer.

You shove your shoulder into his chest, there's no real malice behind it but Sanji gasps dramatically anyway, feigning hurt with a hand to his forehead. You shift your weight, leaning against his body and rolling your eyes as you drag his focus back towards you with a finger to his chin.

He gulps, suddenly nervous under your intense gaze. You stare at him for a few long seconds, watching the way his eyes follow yours and the way he wets his lips when your eyes linger on his neck.

"Oh, I'm sure," you smile, wicked heat behind your eyes despite the harsh way your heart continues to thud against your chest.

A loud thump causes you both to jump apart in surprise. Turning your head you find the door to the kitchen swinging open, no sign of anyone to be found.

It must not have shut properly after you had come through it earlier in search of Sanji.

With a sigh of relief you turn your head back towards Sanji, to your surprise he's already looking at you. His head is tilted, but the look of surprise on his face is different than yours. You question him with a raise of your eyebrow.

"You're so beautiful," he sighs, falling into you with such speed that you rock slightly with the impact. His head burrows its way between your shoulder and your neck and you hear him take another sigh, his breath warming your skin and sending a shiver across your arms.

You smile, bringing a hand to the back of his head. He slumps even further into your body at the contact, arms tightening around your waist and burying himself impossibly closer.

The weight of his obsession and overthinking has finally been lifted from his shoulders. The sleepless nights that he has spent thinking about how to tell you of his feelings are soon to be a distant memory.

There's nothing more he could wish for in this moment that what you're already giving him.

So he doesn't move. He revels in the freedom of knowing you feel as he does.

He breathes you in, cherishing the newness of your hands on his body and he lets his thoughts swirl idly with ideas of dates and the perfect way to court you.

There's no rush, he knows you know how he feels, but he finds himself itching to show you. To prove he knows you best and to show you just how treasured you are.

[djarinova]

tumblr block and filter function i am begging you to work just once

[djarinova]

SAM FIC !!!!???????? OMG .

it was time for him to be released from the drafts 😼

[deans4ngel]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒑

prophecy in prose ⭑ sam leaves you a voicemail while jerking off to thoughts of you vessels ⭑ sam winchester x reader (f) celestial count ⭑ 690 ℘ essence ⭑ smut (mdni) what even angels whisper about ⭑ explicit sexual content, dirty talk kink, male solo masturbation, phone sex, emotional vulnerability mixed with filth

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ⭑ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 ⭑ 𝐬.𝐰.

you see the missed call at 1:42 a.m. sam’s name lighting up the screen. no text. just one voicemail. 3:17 duration.

your thumb hovers. heart already picking up because sam never leaves messages unless it’s urgent. or unless he’s been drinking. or unless he’s been thinking about you too hard to wait.

you hit play. put it on speaker. lie back on your bed in the dark.

his voice fills the room first—rough exhale, like he’s already touching himself. the faint rustle of sheets. a low groan that vibrates straight down your spine.

“hey… fuck. it’s me.”

a pause. wet sound—his hand moving slow. you can picture it: long fingers wrapped around himself, thumb swiping over the tip, smearing precome.

“i tried calling. you didn’t pick up. probably asleep. or out. or… god, i hope you’re alone right now.”

his breath hitches. the rhythm picks up—just a little. slick. rhythmic.

“i can’t stop thinking about you. been hard for hours. tried to ignore it. jerked off once already in the shower. came thinking about your mouth. still wasn’t enough.”

a soft curse under his breath. the bed creaks—he’s shifting, spreading his legs wider maybe. you swallow hard. thighs pressing together without thinking.

“i keep seeing you on your knees. looking up at me with those eyes. the way your lips stretch around me. fuck—your tongue. the little hum you make when you take me deeper.”

his voice drops lower. gravel. wrecked.

“i’m so fucking hard for you. leaking all over my hand. wish it was your pussy instead. tight. hot. dripping. you always get so wet when i talk like this, don’t you? bet you’re touching yourself right now. listening to me fall apart.”

a sharp inhale. his strokes get louder—faster. wet slaps echoing through the speaker.

“i want to fuck your mouth first. hold your hair. watch you choke on me a little. then flip you over. spread you open. slide in slow. feel every inch disappear inside you. you’d clench so hard around me. whimper my name. beg for it harder.”

he moans—long, broken. the sound punches you right between the legs. your hand slips under your waistband before you can think.

“god, baby. i’m close already. just from thinking of you. from imagining you listening. replaying this. touching that pretty clit while my voice fills your room.”

his breathing turns ragged. desperate. words tumbling faster.

“i need you to come with me. please. fuck—please touch yourself. circle your clit the way i do. two fingers inside. curl them. pretend it’s me stretching you. pretend i’m there. pounding into you. telling you how good you feel. how tight. how fucking perfect.”

a choked sound—like he’s biting his lip. trying to hold back. failing.

“i’m gonna come thinking about filling you up. pumping you full. watching it drip out. then pushing it back in with my fingers. making you taste us. fuck—i want that. want you marked. claimed. mine.”

his rhythm stutters. hips jerking into his fist—you can hear it. the wet frantic slide.

“say my name when you come. please. whisper it. scream it. i don’t care. just—fuck—come for me. now. i’m—shit—”

a long, guttural groan rips out of him. deep from his chest. his breath catches—sharp, punched-out gasps. the slick sounds slow. then stop. just heavy panting. a soft, wrecked laugh.

“jesus. came so hard. thinking about you.”

silence for a second. like he’s catching his breath. coming down.

then quieter. softer. almost shy.

“i miss you. more than i should. call me back when you wake up. just know i’m thinking about you. always.”

the voicemail ends. beep.

the room feels too quiet after. your pulse thundering in your ears. your fingers still between your legs—slick. aching. you didn’t even realize you’d started moving to his voice.

you hit replay.

once.

twice.

each time his groans hit deeper. each time you clench harder around your own fingers. chasing the ghost of him.

by the third listen you’re shaking. coming hard. his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. like a promise.

the ache stays. warm. insistent. everywhere.

like his voice never really left the room.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ god's words ๋ ࣭ ⭑ angel radio

cr. images and gif from pinterest