you finally confess your attraction to the hot priest and he's like "oh darling, I thought you'd never ask" and proceeds to bite your neck and turn you into another catholic priest
Come on, now, op. We all know squidward doesn’t go to the club.
He’s one of those “I’m not like other gays” gays who goes home to a bottle of wine and his obscure 50s vaudeville records, and then mopes because he can never find a boyfriend.
guys idek what to say i'm speechless,,, only thing i can say right now is that i'm so glad that i'm caught up with the manga because it's only going to get crazier from here on out and i'm all for it
I know there was a request for this. It was sitting in my inbox for ages. But somewhere along the way, the physical ask disappeared when I went to make the draft. Thanks a lot, Tumblr. But this user knows who they are! (They saw it on Ao3 first).
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Morning After - 141 Imagines Link
Content & Warnings: brief alcohol mention, one night stand, brief cock warming, unprotected piv
Word Count: 944
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist
The hint of stale cigarettes lingers on your tongue. Outside, you hear the lull of traffic, of people, of horns, of noise. It drills into your skull, leaving behind a throbbing sensation that might have been there upon waking. Thin rays of morning sunshine peek through the shut blinds, providing just enough light to see by.
Rubbing at your eyes, you stretch, the soft sheets twisting around your body further. A silent yawn follows, the joints in your knees and shoulders popping, muscles gently resisting. Within all of that is soreness, not only in your limbs but…between your legs. Shifting, the tenderness spikes, and you wince slightly.
Last night starts to come back in fragments—pieces.
A smokey bar. Music. A man kissing your neck as the two of you swayed to the beat.
For a moment, you smile, and then reality comes crashing down like a boulder. There was a bar, music, and plenty of liquor, but you went home with someone.
Slowly, you turn your neck, finding that someone.
Alejandro.
That’s his name. The one he gave you, the one you moaned while he was balls deep and licking stray droplets of tequila off your nipples.
He’s asleep and on his stomach, one large, muscled arm bent under the pillow to support his head. The bedsheet pools at his hips, revealing his bare back and portions of his legs.
More memories follow.
You straddling his lap, lips connecting, grinding on his thigh as he told you how pretty you looked. There was tequila—a river of it. A walk back to his place. There was no pause. No space for breath. When he had slammed the door shut, you were already reaching for him, the two of you shedding clothes quickly, fucking on the floor before eventually making it to the bed.
The soreness between your legs makes itself known again. As you adjust, a sticky residue rubs at your inner thighs. Reaching under the sheet, you examine the area, only for your fingers to come back with a substance you know all too well.
Alejandro groans, and then the bed beneath you dips slightly as he rolls onto his side, stretching. Those dark eyes open, and immediately find you.
“Good morning,” he purrs, a husky quality to his voice.
Your pussy immediately clenches in anticipation. The two of you might have fucked like animals trying to reproduce last night, but what’s a morning of doing the same? Even though it’s returning in fragments, you did enjoy yourself.
“Morning,” you reply softly.
“You moved away in your sleep,” he says, and it sounds like a complaint.
You open your mouth to reply but Alejandro is already reaching out for you, using that brute strength to roll you onto your side and pull you against him. His warmth instantly greets you, wrapping you up, muscles relaxing into that comfort.
He sighs, nuzzling your neck. Lips brush just behind the shell of your ear, making you shiver. One large hand slides to your front, lowering until it almost grasps your sex. His other arm curves just under your neck, that hand lightly resting at your throat.
Like this, your body responds, wanting closeness. And it’s clear that his body wants you too. His dick rests against the curve of your ass, all hardness.
Alejandro’s mouth shifts, his lips pressing kisses to the exposed portions of your neck between his fingers. “Let me in,” he murmurs. “Warm me up.”
His hand against your pelvis shifts to your thigh, and you lift in invitation. Hooking your foot at his calf, you create enough of an opening for Alejandro to shift his hips. The head of his cock drags over your skin and then settles at your entrance. Alejandro’s breath is warm against your skin.
He gently rocks forward. Though the tenderness flares slightly, your pussy eagerly accepts him, adjusting like it’s remembering the memory of him inside you. The moan you let out is more a whimper as he sheaths himself entirely.
Alejandro holds there, not thrusting, not moving, only kissing your neck and shoulder. His fingers gently clasp your chin, shifting your face enough that he can find your lips. You melt under that connection, accepting it like a refreshing glass of cold water.
As your hips press back involuntarily, Alejandro squeezes your thigh, keeping you still as he holds himself inside you.
“Not yet, mi vida,” he croons.
The hand upon your thigh relaxes, shifting lower until he finds his prize. You gasp against his mouth, pussy clenching around his cock as Alejandro’s index finger circles your clit.
He hums with contentment. “That’s what I want.”
A few more strokes and your thighs quiver.
“Almost,” he whispers.
The slick sound of his fingers sliding over and around your clit overshadow everything else. An orgasm builds—sharp and ready to strike. It doesn’t take much until your breath hitches and your cunt clamps down on him.
Alejandro begins to move, hips rocking back and forth in a steady motion. But he never ceases touching you—never stops teasing your clit with his fingers. Every moan and gasp you give him is greedily consumed, his tongue delving into your mouth for a taste.
It is intimate. Passionate. And you hardly notice when his pace increases.
Not until he gently shifts you onto your stomach, his cock never slipping out once as he adjusts.
The pillow is cool against your cheek.
Your arms are pinned above your head by the wrists.
Alejandro pumps savagely, murmuring in Spanish like he’s sending a prayer to the heavens.
You lift your hips, spread your legs a little wider, and smile.
Her hand subconsciously feels to the left side of the bed, reaching out for his hip, but when her hand feels cold sheets, she sits up, eyes bleary with sleep as she looks around. He’s gone, his clothes gone from the floor, and for a moment, she feels a blistering sting in her chest when she looks at her dead husband’s photo sitting on her bedside table. What a fool, she thinks as she throws her legs over the side of the bed and grabs the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Slipping it on, she walks into her daughter’s room and leans over the crib, ready to pick her up when her eyes widen as she stares at an empty bed. Panic floods her and she tries to calm down, thinks that JJ maybe got his sister out and put her in his bed.
She hurries to his room and opens the door, eyes bulging out of her head at this point. His Spider-Man bed is empty. Her feet carry her downstairs and in a flurry of worry, she runs around, checking the den, the dining room, the kitchen, the shed outside, there’s no sign of him or her children. Tears flood her vision as she grabs her phone inside on the bar and tries to fumble it open, only for the front door to crack open and someone start to yell, “Mummy!” Before a stern voice hushes them.
She runs to the front door and sees Simon cradling Morrigan in one arm, his other on the back of JJ’s shoulders, pushing him in the door with a quiet but firm, “Don’ wake y’er mum up.”
Her phone falls to the floor, and she runs to her children, yanking the baby from him, jostling her into a crying fit, as she wraps the other hand around JJ’s head and pulls them in for a tight grip.
“Mummy?” JJ asks, concern flooding his voice as Morrigan cries harder. “What’s wrong, mummy? Why are you crying?”
“Mummy’s not crying,” she says and shushes Morrigan until the baby is in hiccups and hands her to him. “Take Morrigan upstairs to her crib. I need to have a word with Simon.”
JJ takes the hiccuping child from her and he can’t help but say, “Mummy, Simon took us for ice cream!” She finally notices the brown stain on JJ’s pristine white shirt and the remains of chocolate around his mouth. “But Morrigan didn’t eat any. Uncle Simon gave her a bottle.”
“That’s good, baby,” she responds with a tight smile. “Take Morrigan upstairs, okay? She needs a nap.”
“Yes, mummy.”
He leaves and she stands, whirling on him, and he can tell he just lit a Roman candle the size of a mortar. “Love,” he starts, and she cuts him off with a swift and crisp slap that sends his face snapping to the side.
“You cannot just take my children without telling me!” She all but yells. “Letting you in my home is one thing but my children! Don’t you ever take my children out without waking me ever again!”
“Love,” he calms, not bothering to massage the stinging in his face. “I ‘ad everythin’ under control.”
She feels the storm brew in her throat, the tears in her eyes. “My children. My babies. His—our children.”
Simon reaches up, takes her face in his hands. “Look at me,” he says. “You were asleep. Peacefully. You were tired. You ‘ave been so tired. So exhausted from everything. I didn’ want to wake you.” He looks at her. “I took them out for some ice-cream so you could ‘ave a restful sleep with no one to bother you.”
Tears spill over and she manages to muster, “No one is going to hurt my children.”
He stares at her, copper eyes boring in hers as he promises, “Love, I would never hurt your children. I would never let anyone hurt your children.” He holds her firm in his hands, eyes ever-strong. “I would never let anyone hurt them. Or you.”
“They’re all I have left,” she cries. “My babies.”
“I know,” he says softly, brushing a hand over her cheek. “And I would die a thousand times before I ever let anyone hurt them.” He leans down and presses his forehead to hers. “Love, I would never hurt them.”
She feels the tears drip down her face as the pain in her chest begins to subside. “I woke up and you were gone. They were gone. I…I feared the worst. That he’d gotten them. That they’d taken you all.”
“No one is going to take us,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes. “I swear to you. No one is going to take us.”
Her hands clench in his hoodie. “You were gone.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shoulda left a note. I jus’ didn’ think you’d wake up ‘fore we got back.” He pulls away and cups her cheek again. “Love, you’ve been so tired. I jus’ wanted you to rest.”
“I know,” she agrees, even as he wipes her tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I slapped you, I’m so sorry,” she cries again.
He snorts and kisses her cheek. “Soap teach you to ‘it that ‘ard?” A surprised laugh bubbles out of her, and she can’t help but smile as the tears fall. “There’s tha’ smile,” he cooes and kisses her forehead. “God, I love tha’ smile.”
Her cheeks get hot and she reaches up, wiping her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, love,” he shakes off. “Don’t be. I’d react the same if I were you.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “Go check on them, yeah? I’ll make you something to eat.”
She nods and turns, pausing at the staircase and looks at him. “I thought you left me this morning,” her voice is soft, just short of broken.
He looks back at her, takes off the face mask he always wears in public and affirms, “Never.”
if this is something you’re interested in, I’d love to see Simon accidentally losing his temper and making it up to you <333 he’s just a big guy and doesn’t really realise how intimidating he can appear! he’s the sweetest though :(
Taking some artistic liberties with this because I refuse to give men the right to yell as the president/princess of this here blog!!
All day you've felt the distance between you and Simon. A gaping, empty hole in your normally cozy, quiet home. Of course, you'll give him the patience he always affords you, you'll give him time and space if that's what he wants. But you can't exactly work out what he needs when he'll barely speak to you.
His silence doesn't soothe the anxiety in your gut telling you that you're the source of the problem.
Eventually, you find yourself breaking, sitting on the couch responding to an email, going through the motions with robotic thoughtlessness. You're so strung out by your own anxiety, yiu find yourself crying, little pathetic sniffles as you try to convince yourself to grow up and push your feelings aside.
"Bird?" Snaps you from your self pity. Sends your hands flying up to wipe at your eyes. Fruitless, seeing as he's already noticed your tears, a concerned look furrowing his brows.
Before you can protest, tell him you're fine, he's kneeling before you on the rug, still at your eye level, despite the fact you're sat on the couch.
All coldness is gone as he takes in your ruddy cheeks and watering eyes, pulling you into his chest the minute he realises why you're crying, why you're hiding from him.
"Are you mad at me?" You hiccup, wiping your runny nose absently on the back of your sleeve as you wait for an answer, only to see Simon look so utterly broken at your question.
"Wha-Why would I be angry at you, hm?" He soothes, thumbs brushing gently across your tear streaked cheeks.
"Haven't done anything wrong." Simon murmurs into the hair at the crown of your head, a large hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.
You feel like an idiot, so worked up by your own thoughts, your imagination.
"Barely talked to me all day."
"Oh baby." You're soothed with such gentleness you can't help but to cry more, sniffling fat tears into the fabric of Simon's shirt.
Jostling slightly, Simon keeps you pressed into his chest as he joins you up on the couch, his free hand cradling the nape of your neck, keeping you close.
Mate is a traditional South-American, caffeine-rich, infused herbal drink. Argentinian costumes dictate that, depending on the additives or the way in which it’s served, one can send secret messages using mate.
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, dr!g use, minor character death.
