#but very much could have done without all of this

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Love is a Many-Legged Thing

Yandere Squid Merman x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, tentacle noncon, light tentacle bondage, stalking, kidnapping, squid-based merman, big slimy prehensile merman dick, reader fucked senseless, merman fantasizes about receiving oral sex, general yandere behavior, delusional yandere, voyeurism, exhibitionism Word Count: 2k (Happy MerMay!!!! I really hope you all love the fic, would have been done weeks ago had the ac not died. But still 40min left of MerMay! I wrote this fast without a beta reader so please forgive any mistakes! The name Onyk is a reference to Onykia Ingens, a deap sea squid with an astoundingly long dick.)

Seaspark Aquarium was a very unique establishment. Not only did it contain the usual attractions that an aquarium housed, the tide pools, the sharks, a seemingly unending variety of colorful fish and corals and nudibranchs, but it also housed transient merfolk. The aquarium was situated on a flat outcrop of rocky land. Via submerged tubes it granted access to a huge tank to the ocean and merfolk below.

The tank was absolutely massive and had many different areas including a reef, a seaweed forest, a beach, and even a secluded sea cave. There were underwater cameras in most of the areas that live streamed what was happening on screens for the humans. Though the sea cave feed was restricted to adults only since the merfolk sometimes mated there.

The aquarium was just as much an exhibit for the merpeople as it was for the humans, they had underwater screens that allowed them to view the humans at play and at the food court. They enjoyed seeing and even communicating with their terrestrial cousins. There were several areas where humans and merpeople could talk face to face or via the cameras. Many of them visited quite frequently and made friendships with regular customers and their favorite staff members.

You had been blessed with landing a really good job at Seaspark Aquarium. Though it was entirely because you were the cousin of the curator of the establishment. You did janitorial tasks, including sometimes scraping the tanks, and occasionally you had to provide food for an exhibit. Even though interacting with animals or merfolk was not a common part of your job, there was one squid-man who had become quite friendly with you. Onyk.

Most of the squid type mermen shied away from human interaction, and really the aquarium as a whole, but not Onyk. He had always been a frequent visitor. A knowledgeable observer might even say it seemed that he had been hoping to find something there. The first few times he had gone had been out of pure curiosity about humans after hearing tales about them his entire life. But after his first couple of visits he was enthralled. Everything about the land walkers amazed him.

And then he met you and felt his heart flutter every single time he looked upon you. He frequently tried to engage you in conversation whenever he could and was always watching you, though often it was in secret. Onyk cherished your chats with him, he found you so interesting, even more so than he found other humans. He loved seeing you go about your tasks, it made him think of you cleaning his home as his mate while he went and got food for the two of you.

Of course if you had any say, that would never happen. Onyk, for some reason you couldn't quite place, creeped you out. No, it wasn't the head of tentacles he had in place of hair, nor the dark purple tentacles he had from the waist down, it wasn't his smile that showed off his dangerously sharp teeth, or his cyan blue eyes. No, it wasn't anything physical, just a weird energy he seemed to give off. Like a hungry animal hunting its prey.

You tried to be nice to Onyk, though you always tried to keep conversations brief and hurry on to other tasks that would take you out of his reach. Unfortunately he took your awkward stammers and clumsy rushing to zip away from him as you being extremely shy because you liked him. He sighed and stared at you longingly, head resting on his hands, as you rushed off once more. Clearly you were simply too embarrassed by your emotions to act rationally around him. Onyk had to find a way to get you to stop running off. As adorable as it was that you kept scampering off from your shyness you really needed to be closer to him.

Onyk had a brilliant, though simple, idea. It came to him right as you were in the middle of making another excuse to run away from him while the two of you were chatting in the beach area. He'd simply grab you. It wasn't the first thing he'd normally do, but you were just too prone to running off. It was more than obvious you needed him to make a firm and forceful first move.

"Well uh... it was nice seeing you again Onyk... but um... I gotta go check on the tide p-"

Onyk lunged at you suddenly with the speed and ferocity of lightning. He pulled you into the water and swiftly took you into the empty sea cave and sat you on the dry ground within. Yes, this would do perfectly for his purposes. It was a huge room that had an area for him to swim and enough space for you to run about and get exercise. This would make a lovely home for the two of you, he'd have to keep all the other merfolk out from now on but that wasn't an issue, they were respectful of claimed territory.

Once you caught your breath you were confused and angry at the sudden relocation.

"What the f-"

He interrupted you again, this time by pressing his hungry lips to yours in a passionate embrace. His long tongue slipped past your unsuspecting lips and explored every inch that it could reach. His saliva pooled in your mouth, claiming it. The offending muscle snaked down your throat before finally retreating as he broke the kiss, you struggled to find your breath once more.

"Heh, sorry for interrupting, I have just been waiting to kiss you for so long I couldn't hold back any longer!"

“What!? Why did you do that? Why did you bring me here!?”

“Well your shyness was making it hard for us to take things to the next step in our relationship, now you can’t let your nervousness get the better of you and make you run off!”

“Next step in our relationship? We have no relationship, you creep!”

“Don’t say that! Y-you just have the jitters because moving in is such a big step! Yeah, they’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“There won’t be a soon, I am going back to the beach!”

You started to head back to the water, but Onyk closed the distance between the two of you easily.

“But you can’t go! You’re just in denial and nervous, but you’ll love living with me, I promise. M-maybe I’m not moving too fast but too slow. That must be it, you must be all pent up and eager for my dick! So naughty~”

Onyk’s blush was evident even on his light blue skin. He swallowed your complaints in another deep kiss as he stood behind you and rubbed your crotch gently.

“We’ll do it in front of these cameras so everyone knows you’re mine now~”

And, indeed, the screens in the adults only section of the aquarium definitely picked up some viewers as the scene between you and Onyk unfolded.

Most mermen would have had trouble traversing land, but Onyk’s strong tentacles allowed him to maneuver easily enough. He peeled off your wet clothing and wrapped his arms tightly around your bare chest, rubbing and caressing you with greedy hands. His prehensile cock wrapped partially around your waist, held you close as it rubbed against you. At first you mistook the sensation for a tentacle before looking down and seeing it, the cock was tapered, icy blue and glowing at the tip, with the rest of it being dark purple.

Your shouts and screams were ignored as Onyk convinced himself they were just you being grumpy or maybe playing hard to get. The merman’s sharp teeth bit carefully at your tender neck as you squirmed. Most of his tentacles had wrapped around your legs, powerful suction cups firmly adhered them to you. They held you staunchly in place despite your best efforts to struggle.

The remaining two writhing appendages were busy with another task. They gently prodded and massaged your tight hole, slowly worming their way inside you. Your efforts to clench and keep them outside of you were rendered futile as they finally worked their way inside of you. They began thrusting in tandem back and forth within you, loosening you up well.

Your next attempt at protesting devolves into several lusty moans as he ministrations begin to elicit pleasure. It’s all the confirmation he needs that he has been right all along and definitely went about everything in the right way.

“Your mating sounds are so lovely,” he said as he nipped at your ear.

His tentacles suddenly withdrew from your lovingly stretched hole, leaving you involuntarily whimpering at the sudden removal.

“Awe, don’t worry, love. I have something far better to put into you~”

You snap out of it when you hear those words and feel his cock move itself from your waist and start wiggling against you in search of its target.

“What!? No, please do-oooh~ Aaah!”

When it found your entrance it deftly slithered right in. Much to your unwilling pleasure.

Onyk chuckled.

“I knew you just needed some good dick~ You feel soooo good. You were made for this!”

When you happened to look up at one of the cameras you blushed and looked down. The room that monitored the sea cave was now packed, everyone enjoying the sight. The aquarium was already at work recording with plans to put it on their website for sale.

You couldn’t help the lewd cacophony of noises that tumbled from your mouth as the thick slimy cock thrust back and forth inside of you.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” Onyk chanted louder and louder until he slammed into you hard, filling you up with warm viscous semen at the same moment that you were shuddering from the strongest orgasm that you had ever experienced.

You were far too dazed and overstimulated to realize what was going on in that moment or what you were saying, but on autopilot you mumbled back what your brain thought it was supposed to when someone told you that they loved you.

“I l-love you too…”

Onyk was overjoyed to hear those words from his beloved human. He pulled out of you and laid down on the floor of the cave, pulling you close to him and resting your head on his chest. His webbed fingers gently caressed you as did both the tentacles that made up his "hair" and the ones below his waist. Cum slowly ebbed out of you and onto him but he didn't mind, the two of you would just get messy again the second you came to your senses. He nuzzled into your hair and gave you dozens of little kisses. Your mind was too blank and your body too exhausted to do anything but drool a bit on his chest while he cuddled you.

His head was swimming with all of the things the two of you would do together. Sharing meals, chatting, mating. He couldn’t wait to wrap his cock gently around your neck while at the same time plunging it down your throat and having that pretty mouth of yours suck it until he was feeding you his cum. Maybe the two of you could try it when you woke up.

Meanwhile onlookers on the viewing screens were putting away their cocks and slipping their fingers out of their pussies with the spectacle now over, but word soon spread and tourism was up over 300 percent! Scientists the world over were interested in documenting this rare species of merman having sexual relations with a human. Grants were given. A great raise and credit to your cousin, the curator.

It was even considered a diplomatic victory for merfolk and humans!

Everyone came to the consensus that on all fronts, but yours, it was far too beneficial and lucrative to make sure you had to permanently stay in the sea cave for the rest of your life with Onyk. At the very least they equipped the habitat with amenities like a proper bathroom, tv, video games, and human food. The sea cave area was also expanded, and you were afforded some privacy, except for most of the times that your “husband” Onyk was spilling his seed into you. That’s what people wanted to see.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere mermay #yandere merman #yandere squidman #mermay #mermay 2024 #My OC Onyk

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #x reader #cmkinkbingo2024

[miley1442111]

I LOVED DRUNK CONFESSIONS !! Is there any way I could get a part 2 ?? maybe of aaron waking up the next morning, and on their way to work he forces reader to tell him all the things he did in his drunken state the night before, and he ends up proposing ( even though it’s not as romantic as he wanted it to be )

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the morning after- a.hotchner

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy

summary: aaron's admissions last night ended in a proposal in the car. not exactly romantic, but oh well

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

warnings: none

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When Aaron woke up with a splitting headache the next morning, he knew he’d done something stupid. He rolled over, covering his face with his pillow as he tried to cover his sensitive eyes from the sun. 

“Morning sunshine,” you smiled and kissed the arm he had wrapped around you. 

“Remind me to never drink again,” he sighed. 

“I tried to remind you last night,” you reminded him. “But you were already 4 whiskeys deep.”

Aaron groaned and you laughed into his side. It felt good to be home, good to have the day off for the weekend, good to be able to just spend it with your family. 

Jack soon came barrelling in, all smiles and loud talking, unknowingly harming his dad. You miraculously coaxed Jack out of the bedroom with the promise of pancakes, just to give Aaron some more time to either sleep, or somehow prepare himself for the day. 

Aaron thought back to last night, only remembering snippets of the night. Talking to Rossi about his day very loudly, dancing with Penelope, telling you something that made you say “You’re so drunk, and you’re going to be so embarrassed when I tell you in the morning,”

Shit. Had he ruined the proposal?

-----------------------

You sat in the driver’s seat of the car, watching as you watched Aaron drop Jack off at a playdate with one of his school friends. Aaron was in a state. He was so hungover and clearly not taking it well. He gave you a kiss on the cheek when he joined you in the car as you started to drive to the local farmer’s market. 

“So… did I say anything last night?” He asked, nerves filling his body. 

“Just some super embarrassing stories about me and you, you talked about Jack for ages, you could not keep your hands to yourself, oh- and you said you wanted to marry me,” you chuckled. Last night you’d decided that all he’d said about marrying you was a distant desire, rather than a realistic action that he was planning on taking soon. “Your drunk brain is clinically insane, Aaron.”

Aaron’s heart dropped. He’d ruined it. He’d ruined the proposal. He let out a groan. “I’m sorry honey, I didn’t want to- I wanted it to be a surprise,” he admitted rather shyly. 

“Wanted what to be a surprise?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the road as you pulled up outside the farmer’s market. 

“The proposal.”

Your head whipped around to look at him and saw him with a ring box in his hand and a slightly pained smile on his face (courtesy of the sun shining directly into them). “Aaron, what is that?” 

“An engagement ring,” he smiled. “The one I’m proposing with now.”

You could’ve sworn you died and went to heaven. Aaron was proposing. Right now. “Yes,” you rushed out.

“Can I ask you first?” he chuckled, taking one of your hands in his. You nodded your head profusely, and he started his speech. 

“Y/n Y/l/n. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. You are kind, and sweet, and you care about things so deeply. I cannot imagine my life without you in it. You love me when no one else does, you’re there for me when no one else is, and I love you so much I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to explain it. You are my sunshine everyday. You make me so happy. Knowing that I get to wake up to you every morning means more to me than you can ever know. The way you care about Jack and I is astounding. He loves you so much, and he wanted me to tell you he helped with picking out the ring,” you both let out a watery chuckle.” Y/n I have had the pleasure of being your friend, your boyfriend, and now I’m asking if you’ll be my wife?”

“Yes!” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes, I want to marry you.”

He held you tight to him. “Sorry this wasn’t as romantic as I wanted it to be,” he kissed your cheek, sliding the ring on your finger. 

“I liked this better anyways,” you shrugged and looked down at the wedding ring on your hand. “Are we actually getting married?”

“I think we actually are,” he grinned like a little boy, and pressed his lips to your is a passionate kiss. 

And there it was. You two were getting married. 

Then comes the hard part, telling the team.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner

[melodic-haze]

Personally how touched starved do you think Arlecchino and Furina are? Like one has been alone for 500 years and the other killed her best friend and probably doesn’t think she deserves love.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Arlecchino x Reader, Furina x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Oh I think they'd be VERY fucking touch starved, except the two are like. On two different sides of the scale

On one end, you've got Furina. On the other end, you've got Arlecchino. What they're on a scale of? How "vocal" they would be in terms of it

Furina would be on the VERY vocal side, and by that I mean she WILL monologue to you about how she needs your touch or else she will PERISH from a lack of you-contact

Furina puts the back of her hand on her forehead, "My beloved wants to leave me be! Oh, you torture me..."

"Babe, I'm literally only going to get a glass of water."

"You forget my domain over the element!" She moves to throw herself onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck and causing you to laugh as you caught her, "I can satisfy your needs easily!"

"At that rate I'll be better off taking a shower!"

"It gets the job done!"

But she's not vocal for no reason :((( 500 years spent in self-isolation in order to save her people takes a HUGE toll on you so the moment Furina had realised that she doesn't have to do the whole song and dance all over again, she just can't help the want—the need—to basically be attached to you

It's not just because she wants to make up for lost time after FINALLY being able to do so, but also because she's scared that one day it'll all just go poof and disappear in a distant dream. She doesn't speak of her troubles until either she decides it herself that she should or one of the members of her Salon Solitaire (Crabaletta lol) decides to conk her for it

Sometimes she'll ask if she's being a pain in the ass bc she IS aware that she's constantly wanting for you to at LEAST be near her which. If you say she is then I need to sit you down personally and slap you in NOT a fun way

Meanwhile, Arlecchino on the other hand, is VERY quiet about it. She won't say anything, nevermind doing anything. She'd restrict herself from clinging onto you as much as she'd like to

You were a vision to her, a lovely sight to see and a lovely voice to hear as you recounted your day's events. Even when you did something so mundane, something that isn't necessarily something special, Arlecchino still looked at you with such adoration.

She almost didn't notice her hand inching closer towards yours from her warm daze.

Almost.

Before she could draw it back unnoticed, however, you turned your head at just the right (or wrong) time.

"Arlecchino? Is there.. something wrong?"

..She shakes her head instead of admitting her desires, "No, my apologies, darling. I was rather captivated by your tale. Do tell me more about your friend's predicament."

And so you do, but you couldn't help but notice the longing look in her eyes.

It takes a while before she starts warming up to the idea of letting herself actually do SOMETHING. And that'll take a lot of time, patience and encouragement from her❗️❗️❗️ But trust when I say it's worth it bc she practically treats you with so much more affection and devotion than the literal archon she serves HAHA

She doesn't thinks she deserves to show physical affection, to touch you, to truly worship you and your body in every way she can—not when she has the power to hurt you, not when she's killed off the person she had cherished the most all those years ago :(

You gotta reassure her that everything's okay and that you won't disappear bc once you've done that? She's SO TOUCHY she will NOT go through the day without havign some form of contact with you

She won't do it as much in work though she has a reputation she wants to keep lmao

#hazy demos! #i tried making them equal i swear wtf 😭😭😭 #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #genshin furina x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

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#dpxdc #jazz/jason #jazz x jason #anger management ship #hardcover ship #dp x dc #personal coach au #<- tag for this fic #when i have a bunch ill polish and post in ao3

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmoth writes #finally #HSR x reader #Hsr Smut #Boothill x reader #boothill x reader smut

[chaoticallyfluffy]

"What are you, a cop?" and "Now you see me now you don't" both sound interesting

For "What are you, a cop?"

Billy is deaged (actually deaged. He goes from 15 to 10 or something and doesnt remeber the league) during a mission. He suddenly woke up in the middle of a battle so he's freaked out. the Justice League take down the threat then try to calm the boy down, explaining that theyre heros and here to help.

Billy takes a moment to take that in... then bolts.

It takes a bit to catch the kid, he's surprisingly agile for his concerningly small size, but they manage to get him into the jet and hes pouting in the corner looking angrier than the league has ever seen him.

They try to ask questions. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why are you so thin? Is there anyone we should call? But Billy stays silent and his glares stay intense until he finally speaks.

"I don't talk to pigs." he spits out, giving them the nastiest look as if his glare alone could poison and kill them.

They stare at him for a moment, processing that.

"We're not cops???" Clark says, unconvincingly. Hes never been more confused in his life and has definitely never been confused for a cop.

"Whats wrong with being a cop?" Barry, the forensic scientist, pouts.

They knew that Marvel had a bit of a weird relationship with cops but they didn't realize he hated them, and especially not with such a passion!

The league spends the whole jet ride back to the tower trying to convince Billy that not only are they not cops, but that cops shouldn't be something to be afraid of anyway.

Billy spends the whole trip explaining ACAB to them and that yes, they are in fact cops, and here's all the things that the police system has done wrong that the league have probably also done or been complicit in..

I just want to write Billy radicalizing the Justice League and the league helping to reform the police system.

---

For "Now you see me, now you dont"

In the original comics Billy can and will transform in front of anyone at anytime and they wont realize that it was a transformation. Why?because plot armor. They will just think that the boy ran away right as Captain Marvel appeared or something, and when Billy reappears they don't question it either.

In the fic, its a magic perk that came with the whole Champion of Magic package and its a perk he uses often and irresponsibly. He takes it to the extremes by transforming in front of large crowds (no one questions it), while being recorded (The camera shorts out and stops working completely), and even in front of villains (they curse when the captains escapes yet again, completely ignoring the little boy standing in the middle of their secret base)

The last one is how he figured out that even if he is very much Not supposed to be somewhere, he wont be questioned as long as the only people who see him there also saw Marvel transform in that area. If someone who didn't witness the transformation were to see him, they would realize he wasn't meant to be there and call him out which would cause the witnesses to notice it as well. Leaving the room and then returning would also snap them out of it and he would be questioned.

Its a pretty overpowered ability for a child to have access to and when your a street kid without any video games to play who gets chased out of public parks for being too 'dirty' and can't afford any toys, you have to get creative with your entertainment.

Billy wants to see just how far he can take this power, and decides to transform in front of as many people in one day as possible while on the most highly secure facility in earths orbit- the Watchtower.

Follow Billy as he stretches his powers to their limits by transforming in front of the Justice League while praying he doesn't get caught and see what pranks he's able to pull off in that time!

I really like both of these ideas and I definitely want to write them someday. I already have lots of ideas for ways Billy can abuse that particular power! For now I am focusing on a few other fics but these ones are somewhere in the queue.

#billy batson #shazam #dc #dc captain marvel #justice league #fanfiction #fanfic #dcu #ask game #wip

[mulloey]

first time • yunho

warnings: first time (with yunho), mild dirty talk, big massive dick yunho, tight pussy reader i guess, a bit painful at first, holding you down, gentle yunho, dropping the L bomb at the end. much milder than i usually write

“This is going to hurt.”

Spread out on the bed, naked and at his mercy, you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Your boyfriend hovers above you, eyeing your pussy and running his hand up and down his dick. He looks concerned, worried about how you’ll take him, but above all he looks excited. Excited to feel you. Excited to ruin you.

“You’ll go slow, right Yunho?”

He smiles, laughing a bit and tilting his head. “Of course. I’m not trying to make it painful, baby, I’m just big and you’re… well, small.”

You giggle, staring up at him lovingly. You haven’t been dating long but you know Yunho is special. He’s extra careful, extra respectful, extra spontaneous and loving. Extra Yunho. But the one thing you haven’t done is have sex.

The first time you’d even actually felt his dick was an… experience for you. You’d been sitting on your couch a few days into your relationship, cuddled up and watching a movie. From the corner of your eye you kept sneaking glances at his crotch, wishing you could reach out and touch it, feel it for the first time. And you thought you’d been subtle, never moving your eyes from the TV for more than a second, but he’d noticed. One thing you’ve come to know about Yunho is that he notices.

“I know what you’re doing,” he’d simply said. He hadn’t even looked down at you, eyes fixed on the screen. “I see you looking.”

You hadn’t even bothered to defend yourself, just flushed crimson and bowed your head, trying to make yourself smaller out of embarrassment. Then he’d grabbed your hand, moving it towards his crotch and placing it on top of his dick. “I’m already hard,” he’d simply said. “So have a feel, baby.”

And fuck. Fuck he was big. Your mouth had fallen open slightly, heart racing at the feeling. He was long and so thick you thought he must have had something done to it. But no, as he’d insisted, he was au natural.

For weeks afterwards, as your sexual relationship began to develop, slowly discovering each others’ bodies, likes, and dislikes, the one thing he’d refused to do was penetrate you. He’d let you lick the tip (and only lick) or rub it through your wet folds to coat it in your slick before you jerked him off, but that was it. It was frustrating and maddening and you could practically taste your thoughts by the time he’d finally announced that he was ready to fuck you.

Which lead you here. Naked, spread out, vulnerable beneath him. Arms and legs tied to each corner of the bed to stop you from moving. He could do anything to you like this, but he’s chosen to be gentle and slow and patient while he eases you onto his cock for the first time. Fuck, he’s perfect.

It’s clear that Yunho takes your first time with him very seriously, especially given his size. He’d been adamant it would take you a while to fully get used to him — size training, he’d called it — but he reassured you that once you were there, fully stretched and comfortable on his cock, he’d do nothing but fuck you. All day and without mercy. You can’t wait.

You’re plenty wet from the teasing he’s been inflicting on you for what feels like hours now, but he insists on pouring a generous amount of strawberry lube onto his dick. You watch with an open mouth as he slowly, carefully coats it with it. He pours some more onto his fingers before slowly inserting one, two, three into your pussy. You hiss at the coldness, unconsciously pulling at your restraints and he smiles darkly. “Good thing we have those, huh?” He says as he massages the lube into you. He doesn’t look at your face, dark eyes focused on your pussy. “They’ll keep you pliant while I stretch you out.”

You moan involuntarily, pulling at the restraints again and fuck this is annoying. At least you know that if it gets too much, all you have to do is say red and he’ll release you.

Finally he seems to decide you’re ready, lining his dick up to your hole. “Are you ready?” He whispers. “You can still say no, baby. I won’t be mad.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity — how the hell could you say no when you’ve been waiting for months and you’re this close? — but you’re enamoured by how sweet and careful your boyfriend is. You can see he wants this, you see the desperation and barely restrained hunger in his eyes, but you’re his priority. Your comfort. You.

“I need you, Yunho,” you say. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

He laughs and furrows his eyebrows, deep in focus as he finally pushes himself into you and Jesus, Jesus he’s huge. It burns and stretches you deliciously, just bordering on this side of too much. You gasp and flail at the sensations, your hips lifting of their own accord to pull you close to him and his dick deeper into you. You groan, a strangled sound, as his dick finds its way into you.

While it pushes in further he presses kisses to your face, neck and chest, covering you. One hand presses down gently on your shoulder while the other gently strokes your face. It distracts you mildly, briefly from the pain of his cock burying itself in you for the first time.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he says. He presses a kiss to your lips then keeps his head there; not kissing you, just touching his lips to yours and feeling the soft, plush skin. “You feel so good, honey. So good.”

You smile at him, full of love until the pain hits again and you cry out. He shushes you gently, reassuring you but doesn’t stop. He knows you can take it, you will take it, so the sooner he gets it in, gets you used to it, the better. And besides, he knows for a fact that once you’re used to the pain, the stretch, the feelings, you’ll learn to love it. And he’ll love breaking you in.

Once it’s all the way in you feel him falter for a second, lips parting. “Oh— fuck,” he cries. He hasn’t even moved yet and you can see he’s on the edge of losing it. “You’re so fucking tight baby, fuck.”

He stays in place for a minute before slowly and carefully starting to move. As he starts to thrust, a gentle and steady pace, the pain morphs into something more bearable, something pleasurable — something electric. You feel yourself melting into him, completely blissful under his touches. Even as he starts to speed up, getting a little rougher, you feel peaceful and protected. You can feel it in his movements, in his touches, in his eyes, Yunho is right for you.

“How does it feel, baby?” He asks. You nod, barely able to speak and he tuts. “I need to hear you, baby, c’mon.”

You exhale, a staggered breath. “G…good, Yunho,” you whisper. “So good.”

“Fuck, baby. Can I speed up?”

You nod desperately and he does. It starts slow, hesitant, and with every uncertain movement he’s scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. But when all he finds is pleasure, bliss and a yearning for more, he seems reassured, because as quickly as is safe, his thrusts get rougher, harder and faster, hitting you deeper and deeper every time. When you start to thrash he uses his forearm to press down on your chest, pinning you to the bed. “You’re so fucking good, baby,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a thrust. “So good and so fucking desperate for my cock.”

You scream when he hits the spot with particular brutality and he almost seems to growl in your ear. “You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” He whispers. “Say it. Tell me you’re desperate.”

Fuck. This is the hottest he’s ever been, the hottest you’ve ever felt. You’re going to lose your mind. “I’m desperate,” you cry. “I’m desperate, Yunho.”

As you speak you unconsciously clench around him and he bucks, coming instantly and filling you up with a scream. His body shakes like he’s seizing as he drains himself inside of you. It’s the most beautiful sight, the most perfect feeling and it makes you come too. When you’re done he collapses next to you, panting wildly. He turns to face you, smiling warmly and reaching to tuck a sweat-soaked strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I love you so much.”

You smile back at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Yunho.”

—————

thank you for reading, please reblog & comment if you enjoyed. requests are OPEN! love🖤🖤🖤

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #ateez hard thoughts #jeong yunho smut #yunho smut

[penvisions]

unexpected bloom {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.

Word Count: 965

Warnings: none really, fleeting sexual content, allusions to adult content, kissing, fluff, pre-outbreak / no outbreak au

A/N: this was done to try and shake some writer's block, as a part of the 'flora and fauna' writing challenge by @morallyinept

ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

A single flower.

That’s how it all started.

And you thanked every lucky star in the universe as you felt the heat of the body you now curled around as you slowly woke from your slumber. The broad back your front was pressed to was bare, skin on skin in the most intimate of ways that turned from barely conscious and sensual to wide awake and desperate.

Grunts fall from the man’s full lips as he presses his hands to the backs of your thighs, his hips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. Your own fingers tangled almost painfully with his as they hold you in the position he’s found you like the best. The one that punches the most wonton and guttural sounds from deep in your chest as he brings you to the shattering crest of pleasure over and over again. His curls may be graying, his hands weathered and callous, his back aching and sore. But he always seemed to find his youth when you smiled at him over the rim of your mug or trailed a hand over his broad shoulders.

He had certainly found his youth when you had approached him in front of your workplace to compliment the flowers he had been contracted to plant all along the buildings entrance. Enough so that he hadn’t even thought of how completely sappy and unfounded his plucking of a single one to deliver to your desk with a handwritten note had been until well after he had done it. The nervous panic setting in once he was back in the safety of his home and the deed had been mentioned by a tittering Sarah as she recounted her first day as an intern in the very same building.

Of how she had giggled and fawned over the move he had made without much thought beyond how you had to be prettier than all the flowers he had been dealing with. He felt embarrassment flood him, his fork suddenly clinking between his teeth and his ears tipped pink as he watched his daughter rave about how romantic and sweet it had been for someone to do that. How no one seems to care about stuff like that anymore and all she gets are text messages she doesn’t even know how to respond to their so dry and unoriginal. He puts aside his embarrassment to tell her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to engage. That she deserves only the best because she is the best. His whole world in the most perfect package right across the table from him.

She pauses, her own ears tinging as she smiles brightly before teasing him for being such a dad.

But he takes it in stride, because that seems to be his whole purpose in life. To be her dad, to be the one person she could rely on for anything and everything. But that since she had graduated from her university program and moved from their home into a dorm to get the full experience and now an apartment with her friend Ellie while they worked internships, he didn’t get much of a chance to be that.

His newfound purpose was to be your boyfriend.

Something he took just as much pride in because you were perfect too.

He had taken you another single flower the following day after Sarah’s gushing of how lucky you were and how excited you had been to find the first on your desk. How your eyes kept falling on the gift he had left throughout the day. One each day until your schedules had aligned and he could take you out on a proper date. The once single flowers had turned into bouquets, his once written words became spoken affections. You had smiled so gorgeously and laughed so genuinely that he had fallen even deeper in his feelings for you. The ones you returned with bashful and then teasing words. Wit sharp and endearing as time ticked by.

Something you reminisced on as he laid beside you now, both panting for air. Skin sticky with sweat and hands idly wandering over each other.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He rumbles, seeing the way your gaze is both focused and faint. Not wanting him to worry, you press a kiss to his damp temple, rolling over to lay half over him. His arms come to rest on your lower back, anchoring you to him.

“Thinkin’ about flowers,” You grin, teeth catching the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains. Resting your chin atop folded hands over his chest.

“We need to plant some for the season, before it’s too hot.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, causing your face to wrinkle as you scrunch against the tickle of his moustache across your lips.

“Let’s get peonies.”

“Anythin’ for you, you know that.”

“I think…I think I want those for my bouquet too.” Your eyes trail from his handsome face to the ring that sits on your finger. Warm from your skin, from his.

“Yeah?” His eyes soften as he watches you admire the jewelry. He had been so nervous when he begun to plan his proposal, the whole thing thrown out the window one morning when you had peered at him through the open window of his truck as he dropped you off at work. The words had burst from his chest in one solid breath, shocking you both. Another step with you that felt so natural he had done it without thinking. But it paid off, because here you were with him still.

And to think, he had almost turned down the job for worry of embarrassing his daughter at her first job.

“Yeah.” You pressed the single word to his lips.

#dev writes #fic: unexpected bloom #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #fluff #sweet and short

[riki-riks-chick]

heyy im lwk dying for like a bsf jungwon thing rn… like maybe the border between bsfs and smth more is blurred.. u feel me

What Are We? ┃Y.JW

jungwon x reader

yn has all sorts of feelings for jungwon, but can't differentiate between platonic and romantic.

fluff! yn does jungwon's makeup, one kiss, no confession, questioning their relationship.

wdct: 1.1k

I'm usually not very good at vague relationships, but I think this is like the line between being bffs and being bf and gf. either way thnx for the request 💚

═════════════

Third Person POV~

For as long as you can remember, you've been friends with Jungwon. He's always been an important person in your life. So much so that you can't remember life without him or even imagine life without him.

He feels the same, you guys are attached at the hip and nothing could ever sever your connection.

Everyday is spent the same way. You guys meet up at school, and you have almost all your classes together. You always sit beside each other too, so people are convinced you two are secretly dating.

Every accusation is met with a simple "I'd never date him.." or a blatant "We're just friends." but sometimes you even question your closeness to the boy.

"Jungwon, are you coming over after school?" You ask, leaning against your locker as he goes through his. He closes it after grabbing his needed book. "I don't know.. My mom says she'll ground me if I don't study."

"We can study at my house." You pout and he smiles, pinching your cheek. "We both know that we don't get anything done when we study together. You'll just have to miss me today.."

The rest of the day, you're bored.. It's like being with Jungwon so much makes you blind to how little friends you actually have. He's always been everything for you...

Surprisingly, he comes to your house anyway after studying for a couple hours at home, and you immediately get so excited.

"Hey, remember how you still owe me for the homework I let you copy." You remind as he sighs. "What do you want?.. Wanna use me as a makeup dummy again?" He asks as you nod, getting off your bed and pulling him to sit on the stool at your vanity.

"I wanna try a makeup look for school tomorrow.. If it looks bad on you I won't do it.. If it looks good I'll wear it to school." You explain as he nodded. "Okay, just get it over with."

You start on his makeup, quickly realizing that your hands aren't as steady when you aren't sitting down. He notices and simply pats his lap. "Come on.." You're hesitant at first, but then you straddle his lap, focusing on doing his makeup.

Jungwon is forced to stare at you, your eyes, lips.. The way your hair frames your face is perfect too.. He loves being around you..

"You're making me nervous.. Stop staring." You blush, playfully slapping his chest as he laughs. "Sorry.. I was just admiring you.."

Your heart beats slightly faster at his words, cheeks flushing a deeper pink as you tried to ignore him. He can feel you shifting every second or so to keep yourself from sliding off his lap, so he puts his hands on your hips, trying to keep himself from reacting. You tense at the action.

"What are you doing?.." You ask as he chuckles nervously. "Oh, uh.. You were moving a lot and I figured it's because you were sliding off.. I just wanted to keep you still.." You simply nod, trying to ignore the slight fluttering feeling in your abdomen.

You're close to finishing Jungwon's makeup, starting on the lips, you sharpen your lip liner, cupping his jaw as you tug him closer, his face only a few inches from yours.

He decides to close his eyes to make it less awkward, but it only gets your imagination running. You're thinking of things you shouldn't be thinking of, things that you don't usually think about your best friend, but you can't help it. Sometimes it gets confusing, your relationship with Jungwon.

You didn't realize you had zoned out until Jungwon squeezed your hips. "You okay?.." He asks as you nod. "Sorry.. I was thinking about a different lip liner.."

"Did you wanna grab it?" He questions as you shake your head. "No this one is fine.." You cup his jaw again, leaning closer as you begin to line his lips. You can feel his chest rise and fall.. You can feel his hands grow slightly tighter on your hips.. You can feel his heart beat, and it's louder than your own.

You're wondering if he's thinking the same way you're thinking.. Feeling the way you're feeling.. But then again, you don't know how you feel.. Jungwon is your best friend.. You've never seen him as more than that, but you also can't live without him.. You miss him when he's away, and you can't go a day without at least calling or texting him when you don't get to see him.

The two of you can cuddle and hold hands shamelessly, give each other friendly kisses on the cheek and sometimes on the lips depending on the situation, and you know that he's your soulmate.

But then there's this anxiety that keeps your feelings in a complex.. Does Jungwon think of you the same way you think of him?.. You can't even sort out your thoughts towards Jungwon, but you hope he at least cherishes you the same way do cherish him.

You finish lining his lips, filling it in with one of your lip glosses as you smile. "All done.." You show him his reflection in the mirror and he smiles. "You should definitely do your makeup like this tomorrow.."

You nod in agreement, grabbing your makeup wipes as you begin to wipe the makeup off of his face. You start with the base, then you take off the makeup around his eyes, being sure to be gentle. Finally you clean off his lips.

"I can still taste the lip gloss.." He chuckles as you smile. "I don't remember it having a flavor." You mumble as he shrugs, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "Doesn't it taste like strawberries?.."

You're too stunned to even think about the taste so you just nod. That's not the first time you've kissed Jungwon, but why did it erupt such emotion in you this time?.. Why did it make you mad to imagine him being this close with and kissing a different girl?

You finish cleaning off his makeup. Letting him wash his face and use your moisturizer before the two of you layed down on your bed, simply staring at the ceiling.

"Won?.." You call as he hums, turning to glance at you. "What are we?..." He goes quiet after your question, but then he grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. "We're us.. And we'll continue to be us for the rest of our lives together.."

═════════════

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #jungwon soft hours #jungwon soft thoughts #jungwon imagines #jungwon fic #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon #jungwon enhypen

[small-z24]

One-Shot: The Breaking Point

Summary: A heated exchange between Y/N and Azriel leaves them both broken hearted.

Word Count: 958

Warnings: None but so much angst

The House of Wind stood silent and imposing under the pale light of the moon. Inside, the tension was palpable. The Night Court's inner circle had gathered in the main hall for a meeting that had quickly turned heated.

Y/N stood with her arms crossed, her eyes blazing with defiance as she faced off against Azriel. The usually composed Shadowsinger was visibly agitated, his shadows writhing around him like a storm ready to break.

"You had no right to interfere, Y/N," Azriel snapped, his voice low but filled with anger. "This mission was dangerous, and you put yourself at risk without consulting anyone."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her own anger flaring. "I did what needed to be done, Azriel. You were taking too long to make a decision, and I couldn’t just sit by and watch people suffer."

Azriel took a step closer, his shadows swirling around him menacingly. "You’re reckless and impulsive. Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have been killed."

"Reckless?" Y/N scoffed, refusing to back down. "I saved lives, Azriel. While you were hesitating, I took action. Maybe you should thank me instead of berating me."

Azriel's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This isn't a game, Y/N. Every decision has consequences, and you need to learn to think before you act."

"Don't patronize me," Y/N shot back, her voice rising. "I'm not a child, and I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I can and cannot do."

The other members of the Night Court watched the exchange with varying degrees of concern and discomfort. Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a worried glance, while Cassian and Mor looked ready to intervene if necessary.

Azriel's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you're invincible."

Y/N stepped closer, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you think you can control everything and everyone. Maybe if you trusted people more, you wouldn't feel the need to."

Azriel’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "This isn’t about control. This is about keeping you safe. Why can’t you see that?"

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Because you don't trust me, Azriel. You never have."

Silence fell over the room, the weight of her words hanging between them. Azriel's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.

"I do trust you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't lose you. Not like this."

Y/N's anger ebbed slightly, replaced by a mix of confusion and sorrow. "Why, Azriel? Why does it matter so much to you?"

As she stared into his eyes, she felt a strange pull, a connection that she had never noticed before. It was as if her very soul was reaching out to his, recognizing something profound and unbreakable. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It couldn’t be. We can’t be... mates."

Azriel's eyes widened slightly, and Y/N could see the truth in them. He had known. He had known all along.

"You knew," she said, her voice rising with a mixture of anger and betrayal. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

Azriel stepped closer, his expression pained. "Y/N, I—"

"How could you?" she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

Azriel reached out, but she took a step back, shaking her head. "I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I didn’t want to risk our friendship, our partnership."

Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of his words. "But you did risk it, Azriel. By not telling me, you made the decision for both of us. You didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth."

Azriel’s shoulders sagged, his shadows wrapping around him protectively. "I thought I was protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Y/N laughed bitterly. "You were protecting yourself. You were afraid of what it would mean for us."

Azriel’s eyes pleaded with her, his voice breaking. "I was afraid of losing you."

Y/N took a deep breath, her anger mingling with the hurt. "Well, you might have just done that."

The room was silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The other members of the Night Court watched, their expressions a mix of sympathy and concern.

"Y/N," Azriel began, his voice desperate. "Please, I’m sorry. I know I should have told you. I was wrong. But I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I didn’t want to ruin everything."

Y/N’s heart twisted at his confession. "Love isn’t about keeping secrets, Azriel. It’s about trust, and you broke that trust."

Azriel’s face crumpled with regret. "I know. And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back. Just... don’t walk away."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing heart. "I need time, Azriel. Time to process this, to figure out what it means for us."

Azriel nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, waiting for you."

With that, Y/N turned and left the room, her emotions in turmoil. The bond had snapped into place, but the road ahead was uncertain and filled with pain. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever truly find their way back to each other.

And Azriel, standing in the silent hall, felt the weight of his choices and the fragile hope that one day, they might heal the rift that had formed between them.

#ACOTAR #A Court of Thorns and Roses #ACOTAR fanfiction #Azriel #Azriel x reader #Night Court #Velaris #shadowsinger #mates #angst #emotional conflict #heated argument #betrayal #intense emotions #SJM fanfiction #Sarah J Maas #ACOTAR fandom #heartbreak #complex relationships

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 5

'Twas Past One O'Clock

Summary: You find a ghost in your house. Words: 2.2k

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

T’was past one o’clock and you were ready for some alone time. By the time you got back to the house Simon and Joey would be off to the football and you could just chill out after delivering 250 iced biscuits for a wedding that had taken you all your sanity to get done in time. You knew the two of them would have left the house spotless for you. Simon insisted when he was home he handled the majority of the cleaning and Joey being the fantastic kid that he was always wanted to help.

You desperately needed to lie down. The morning had taken it out of you and you felt run down and a little nauseous from all the running around.

Maybe after you could finish off the album you had been working on for Joey’s birthday. It was all Johnny, the story of who he was and your relationship with him. The more time went on the less scared you got about telling your son about his dad. You couldn’t help but send a quick thought up to wherever Johnny was, a sheepish apology for waiting so long with a promise that you and Simon would make sure his son knew him.

It came as a surprise seeing Joey sitting on the front step rather than at the game. You were out of the car and rushing over when you saw the look on his face, like he had seen a ghost. 

“Are you ok? Are you hurt? Where’s dad?”

You were on your knees checking him over, frowning when you saw he had turned off his hearing aid and rapidly signing your questions instead. He only ever turned it off when he was upset and had very little hearing without it which always worried you. It was valid of him to want quiet when he was having big emotions and you never wanted to force him to keep it on if he didn’t want it, but as a mother you also wanted him to always be as safe as he possibly could be and that meant being able to listen for any danger.

“They were fighting. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Who was fighting?”

“Dad.”

“Who was dad fighting with?”

“Dad.”

“What do you mean? Is dad ok?”

You felt your heart squeeze tight. It had been years since Simon had had a bad episode. He still had mild ones now and then, still had nightmares, but he hadn’t hurt himself or anyone else in such a long time. He worked as a trainer now, not spending much time away from home. That had happened 4 years ago when he was offered a promotion up to Captain and chose to instead come out of active duty. Eventually he had told you that it didn’t feel right being anything but a Lieutenant. He never had to say out loud that it was to do with Johnny, but you knew that’s what it came down to. If Johnny couldn’t call him Captain, then he’d stay as LT.

“Which dad? Because they’re both in there. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You searched Joey’s face. He was angry, sad, frustrated. It was in his expression and the way he signed. You tried to understand what he was telling you with your heart pounding and your mouth feeling painfully dry. You didn’t know what to do. Leaving Joey on the step was against your instincts, but now you were terrified for Simon. What on earth was going on? Was he ok?

You jumped when you heard a car door slam and turned to see a very serious looking John Price coming towards you.

“John? What’s going on?”

He looked from you to Joey to the house. 

“Is he here?”

You wanted to ask who he was talking about but Joey beat you to it. The kid was a pro at lip reading.

“He got here when we were about to leave. Punched dad, broke his glasses. I got told to wait outside for mum.”

You didn’t understand what was going on. Who punched Simon? It at least had to be someone he knew, more accurately someone he trusted. He would never have sent Joey to sit outside if not. If someone dangerous was in the house, Simon would have sent Joey straight to the pub down the street that Eyitayo ran. She was a veteran who had worked with Simon before and he trusted her to get you and Joey safe in the event of someone tracking him down. 

The fact that Joey was sat right here meant it wasn’t someone that was a danger to him. But also someone that would punch Simon. And someone that John knew was here. 

“I was going to tell you.”

You knew the look John was giving you. Guilt. It was a look you had become accustomed to from him, a look you got anytime the topic of your deceased husband came up. 

“Going to tell me what John? Who is inside my house?”

You knew. Who else could it be? You looked at John, waiting for him to say something, say anything that meant there was not a ghost in your house. Instead he looked shamed and in pain, knowing as well as you did by this point that your life was about to fall apart again. 

Perhaps a better mother would not have walked into the house and left her son sitting there. You were not better. You loved your son more than anything, but in that moment you felt dissociated from everything and everyone, the only sound the rush of blood pumping around your body which floated forward without your conscious effort. 

You saw Simon first. His glasses were broken, one lens a spiderweb of cracks and the frame warped but still valiantly clinging to him. There was dried blood at his nose, a streak from where he must have wiped it away. The beginnings of a black eye. But it was his eyes. You had loved this man for most of your adult life and you had never seen him look so broken. Not when he came home from a bad deployment needing you to take control. Not when the anniversary of Johnny’s death came and went with each passing year. Not when Joey screamed at him once that he didn’t need to listen to him because he wasn’t even his real dad (God he was so like Johnny with how his temper flared and he picked the most hurtful thing to say that he could before immediately regretting it).

The other man was sat on the sofa, head in hands. His hair was long. He looked older than he should be you thought. There was such a great tension in him that your disconnected body gave a sudden thrum between your legs, remembering what this man turned into when he came home from a bad deployment, angry and violent with nothing to turn it into but aggressive passion. But it was a wasted effort of your biology as your brain processed who was sitting in your living room and your stomach gave an almighty lurch, sending you with a stumble to the small toilet off the side of the living room to empty it.

There was swearing coming from the men. A rough hand brushed your hair away from your face while another rubbed your back. 

“Cap told me tae stay put but ye know me. Should’ve warned ye rather than scaring ye like this. I just… I couldnae wait bonnie. I just wanted tae see ye.”

He sounded like himself but not. His accent was a bit twisted now, something slightly wrong about the tone, something more Slavic now. But my God it was him. Older, harder, a little worse for wear, but it was your Johnny. Your John MacTavish. There was a hand on his face, fingers shakily tracing the changes. It took you a moment to realise it was your hand. He leaned into it, his eyes intense on yours. It had been a decade and this man still burned for you the way he had before he died. 

How you wished that he didn’t feel so strange despite it all. But then, who wouldn’t become a stranger after a decade apart?

“You… you died…”

“I’m so sorry. It wisnae supposed tae be so long. A few months, just tae make the world a safe place for our family.”

You couldn’t think properly. You felt so ill and so tired and it was overwhelming. You looked through the open doorway and tried to find Simon but even if he was there you weren’t sure you could get your vision to focus enough to tell. Your eyes were swimming you realised, tears blurring everything. 

“Did he know?”

“Aye.”

Your heart had barely broken before Johnny was making a choked sort of noise and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Fuck. He didnae know. Simon never knew. I shouldnae have said that, I just… you’re married to him.”

You didn’t think you would have survived if Simon knew this whole time. It was too severe a wound to ever hope for recovery. It was so like your Johnny, that knee jerk reaction when he was hurt that he immediately regretted. You were so unused to it now. Simon wasn’t like that, he was careful with what he said even when he was angry or hurt. Honestly you had wished sometimes he was a little more like Johnny because it made it hard to even tell that he was angry or hurt when he so rarely let it show. 

“You died. You died and I wanted to die with you.”

“I’m here now. It’s going tae be ok bonnie, I’m right here. We can move wherever ye want, ye liked it up North eh? Start again.”

It was like your consciousness all slammed back into your body at once. The bone deep exhaustion was tempered only by the sudden alarm at his words. 

“I- no, I… Johnny, I have a family.”

Oh, you had not meant for those to be the words you gave him. You had not meant for it to cause him to look like he had been shot. Although you supposed Simon must already know what that actually looked like. You wanted to throw up again. His hand on your shoulder gripped tighter, almost painful. When you flinched his face fell and he let go, backing up out of your space with his hand going to tug on his own hair. 

“I ken… I couldnae expect… if it was anyone else I’d be happy for ye. Naw him bonnie. It cannae be him.”

“But it is.”

You tried to wordlessly plead with your first husband, to have him understand. You could no sooner stop being entirely in love with Simon Riley than you could stop your own heart beating. Your solid and steadfast Simon who was outside comforting your son, who left you with the first love of your life because of course he would. He had been firm with you long ago in his belief that you would never leave one another, not with how tangled up you were. You had split up once and that had ended within 12 hours with you being fucked in the neighbours shed at a party for the cup final. How could you ever live without him?

It was as incomprehensible an idea as living without Johnny had been once upon a time. 

“Is everything ok?”

You saw the hurt in Johnny when you relaxed at hearing Simon coming back in. 

“Joey?”

“Gaz came to pick him up. He’s… as ok as he can be.”

He eyed Johnny warily as he pushed into the bathroom to gently help you up. You were so tired and you let your weight sag against him. 

“She needs to get cleaned up and rest a bit.”

“Aye I’m naw fucking blind Si.”

“Could’ve fooled me MacTavish given that you had her on the floor.”

“Fuck all the way off Riley!”

He was alive. He was alive and here and him and his best friend were at each other's throats. It was your fault wasn’t it? If you hadn’t fallen in love with Simon this miracle could have been met with only happiness. God you wanted to sleep. You wanted to be clean and to brush your teeth and sleep. You wanted to wake up and be able to hold Johnny, to prove to yourself he was here and real and alive. 

“P-please…” you choked out, not entirely sure what you were asking for. 

There was silence for a moment and you could only stare at the floor, swaying a little with how woozy you felt.

“...ye have that hippie tea?”

“Top right cupboard, I’ll…”

“Aye. Don’t you worry bonnie, I’ll have it hot and ready for ye.”

He ran a hand over your head, bringing it to your cheek and then your chin to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“I love you. So much” he said, voice rough with emotion as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked away. 

You barely remembered the shower. All you knew was that you were tucked into bed with your favourite tea and your exhaustion took you under fast enough that you couldn’t follow the conversation happening outside of your bedroom.

#mhairiwrites #ghost x reader #soap x reader

[brucewaynehater101]

Have you ever watched the show Durarara? If not that's OK, you dont need any back ground lore about it for this au, I was just using the kind of creature that Celty is as an inspiration.

Back near the end d of Dick being Robin, a strange phenomenon started, a rumor you could call it. Some nights when the caped crusader and his side kick were out on patrol, a strange figure would appear following them but it's clear that it was no human. It was tiny, sized like a child and acting almost like one too. Except for the fact it was missing its head and the stump bellowed thick black smoke that hid any gore from view. Very few ever saw it and those who did claimed it was the spirit of someone that the Dynamic Duo were unable to save.

During Jason's time as Robin, the strange being was sighted less and less as it followed the pair around. It still clearly followed them often but it became better and better at stealth. The pair certainly never got a glimpse of it, other than one time. Jason was unexpectedly separated from Batman while fighting Mister Freeze and found himself following the sound of something hitting the ground. When he rounded the corner, he found what looked like a kid laying on a dumpster like they had fallen off the icy fire escape. That is, until it stood to it's full height and he realized whatever this was *it has no head*. The thing stared at him in silence and though it had no eyes, Jason could feel it's gaze upon him, pinning him in place. Then it ran and by the time Jason snapped out of it and followed, the creature was long gone.

When Tim first appeared to Bruce and Dick, demanding to be Robin, they didn't know who he was due to him wearing a motorcycle helmet and using sign language. He claimed that he had to keep it on due to "medical reasons" and that it "filters regular air into something safer to breath". All Tim is willing to tell the Bats about it is that the same incident that left him unable to breath without filtered air caused serious harm to his vocal cords so he can't speak anymore.

Bruce is... worryingly ok with not knowing who the kid is or what he looks like. After all, it means there's less for him to get attached to. Plus Tim can't scream at him and if Tim tries to lecture him, he can just turn his head away. Though he doesn't because that means Tim pulls out the Air Horn. This means that both Dick and Bruce only know Tim as Robin for quite a while and by the time either of them feel bad enough about that to do anything about it, it would be so rude to admit that they don't even know his *name*. Surely he told them at some point and they just forgot, right?

Tim likes that they don't know anything about him. It makes things much, much easier. After all, they can't learn about and then *care* about the fact that he doesn't exactly know where his head is if they don't know it was taken. Well, he *sort of* knows where it is! It's somewhere on the grounds of Drake Manor! It's not his fault that his built in Head Locator got messed with by his mom due to the jar she put his head in! She only hid it because she doesn't want anyone else to take it, ok? He can still track it to an about 1000 feet across area! That's pretty damn close. Besides, it's definitely safer to be Robin without one. After all, do you have any idea how many concussions he avoids by simply Not Having It With Him? So many. So very, very many.

Only a few of the rouges know that Tim doesn't have a head via them forcefully removing the helmet. The few who have done it claim that Robin is some kind of monster and the helmet keeps him whole. Well, in their defense, Tim did start spewing black smoke everywhere when it got removed!

The first of the Bats to know that Tim isn't human is Jason during the Titans Tower attack. At some point, Jason wanted to see the fear in his replacements eyes so he ripped off the helmet and froze at the sight. His replacement had no head. His replacement. Had. No. Head. Tim takes his chance to knock Jason away and stops holding back, using his thickened smoke to blind him and then allowed the strands of dark energy to tie him up like a spider web. Jason managed to break free and fled the tower with the strange strands of black energy chasing him out as Tim stood still right where he was left.

Jason quietly wonders why and how Bruce managed to recruit the Thing that haunted his nightmares after he saw it looming over him from atop a dumpster.

Tim edits the footage of the tower security so that it all goes dark when the power does so that none will see what he did. What he is.

I have watched the show, but it's been so long since I've seen it that I've forgotten everything :(

However, your AU is super rad!

I'm curious if Tim has any other powers related to being a dullahan or if a motorcycle enhances anything (if it's treated like a horse). The black fog effect was a neat power and I so want to hear more.

Particularly, I'm curious about Bruce and Dick's reactions, how it affects Jason's grudge against Tim, and whether Tim's status affects Damian. I hc that Alfred is some type of creature too (that's why he seems to live forever), and has been silently helping Tim with whatever special needs the kid may have (not that Tim knows). Bruce suspects Alfred is something but doesn't know the details and doesn't want to anger the older man by asking.

Perhaps Jason, due to his revival status, is also some type of creature. I'm hcing a wraith or a similar being. Due to dullahan's dealing with death, maybe Tim and Jason have some sort of dynamic there (like Tim can always tell when Jason is close by like a sixth sense or something).

As far as Tim's head, does he start to freak out when his mom dies and he realizes he has no clue where it actually is? To add on, how does he do school or public appearances as Tim Drake?

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for only pretending to accept an apology?

There's years of context here, but I'll just say that it was a very complicated friendship, and towards the end it got very toxic. I started to try and drift away, and the other person responded to this by suddenly cutting me and all of our friend group off. I later found out that she'd been advised to make new friends if I wasn't talking to her as much, and this was how she executed that.

We go to a very small school where everyone knows each other, and she's been struggling to make new friends. Mainly because my friends and I are pissed off with her for how she behaved, and any friends we have outside the group are annoyed on our behalf, and this kind of spread. She has done some pretty fucked up and just really weird shit, but I get the vibe that most people just kinda hate her without any real personal reason- it's just like herd mentality.

After months of avoiding us, she did end up apologising to the others and asked to be friends again. They all said no, and she kind of stalked them? (long story).

Quite some time after the other apologies, she cornered me, explained herself and said she wanted to be friends again. I was afraid of causing a scene, and said 'ok', and made awkward conversation until I could get away.

Since then, we haven't spoken and I've not made any effort to repair the relationship. I didn't want to just repeat the loop of the toxic friendship, and also I didn't feel it was a genuine apology- more desperation because she has no friends. Though honestly the main reason is just this deep-seated resentment I have towards her.

Should I have just turned her down flat like the others did? I know I should really try and extend the olive branch, since she seems miserable, but there's over a decade's worth of bullshit between us and we haven't been on good terms for a year and a bit.

#aita #am i the asshole

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV - Courting Headcanons 🤍

a/n: Here we are again! These are a couple headcanons of mine about a potential courtship with our beloved king. The pining is very real! As always, feel free to hit my inbox for any and all rambling. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reblogging!

wc: 1.3k

tags: king baldwin iv (kingdom of heaven version) x female!reader; fluff

Ah, congratulations! You have managed to capture the heart and attention of the great Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Baldwin never much contemplated the thought of love, having to face war, his disease and the duty to defend his kingdom from great enemies from a very young age. The weight of the crown and of his responsibilities sits heavy on his head. Which is why you are a breath of fresh air in his chaotic life. No matter how he notices you - maybe you spoke up during a conflicting situation, offering valuable insight, or maybe the King randomly met you while you strolled in his gardens, or maybe he was impressed by your spirit and fighting abilities - having Baldwin’s attention is an honor. You should be proud!

After noticing you, the King would invite you to spend time with him to get to know you better, although without the intention of courting you, at first. As like-minded individuals who share the same principles, a genuine friendship would quickly bloom between you. Even if your interests wouldn’t align at first, you would soon find yourselves eager to share your knowledge. For instance, Baldwin would listen  to you talk about the plot of the book you’re reading and the lesson you are learning from it without ever taking those blue eyes off of you. He would not only listen, but remember your conversations, as they offer him invaluable insight on the person that you are.

Even Baldwin doesn’t notice at first how much your presence is soothing to him. He keeps inviting you to mass on Sundays (giving you the honor of sitting next to him), to a walk in his gardens where he would ask you about your day, to chess games where you would have battles of wits. The hours would pass dreadfully quickly during these meetings.

Baldwin would have a random epiphany about how deeply he aches for you, and it would steal his breath. During a strategy or diplomatic meeting with his advisors, he would catch himself thinking about you. Maybe someone mentioned your homeland and suddenly his thoughts are spiraling about how your laugh warmed his heart that day, or how lovely you looked with your hair done just like that, or how he wished he could be with you. That is when it would dawn on him that you have taken much more space in his heart than he anticipated. Baldwin never gets distracted during state affairs meetings. And you managed to distract him.

This is when the doubts would creep in. He knows he can’t have an heir born of his own flesh and blood (his heart would clench when he sees you play with Sibylla’s son), thus making marriage an unnecessary option. And yet he desires it with you. It would not be a political marriage, but a union of two souls meant to be together. But would you accept to tie yourself to him in such a way, knowing that the Angel of death would come to take him from you so soon? That he would condemn you to an eternity of grieving and widowhood?

Yet, the more time he spends with you, the more fiercely you latch onto his heart. You are just so dear to him, first of all because he can feel that your interest in him is genuine, not tainted by the thirst for power. Your kindness and sensitivity have stolen his heart even before your looks did. I like to imagine that he would allow himself to be selfish and before he knows it, his mind is set, and he will start courting you. 

Ah, congratulations! You have managed to capture the heart and attention of the great Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Baldwin never much contemplated the thought of love, having to face war, his disease and the duty to defend his kingdom from great enemies from a very young age. The weight of the crown and of his responsibilities sits heavy on his head. Which is why you are a breath of fresh air in his chaotic life. No matter how he notices you - maybe you spoke up during a conflicting situation, offering valuable insight, or maybe the King randomly met you while you strolled in his gardens, or maybe he was impressed by your spirit and fighting abilities - having Baldwin’s attention is an honor. You should be proud!

After noticing you, the King would invite you to spend time with him to get to know you better, although without the intention of courting you, at first. As like-minded individuals who share the same principles, a genuine friendship would quickly bloom between you. Even if your interests wouldn’t align at first, you would soon find yourselves eager to share your knowledge. For instance, Baldwin would listen  to you talk about the plot of the book you’re reading and the lesson you are learning from it without ever taking those blue eyes off of you. He would not only listen, but remember your conversations, as they offer him invaluable insight on the person that you are.

Even Baldwin doesn’t notice at first how much your presence is soothing to him. He keeps inviting you to mass on Sundays (giving you the honor of sitting next to him), to a walk in his gardens where he would ask you about your day, to chess games where you would have battles of wits. The hours would pass dreadfully quickly during these meetings.

Baldwin would have a random epiphany about how deeply he aches for you, and it would steal his breath. During a strategy or diplomatic meeting with his advisors, he would catch himself thinking about you. Maybe someone mentioned your homeland and suddenly his thoughts are spiraling about how your laugh warmed his heart that day, or how lovely you looked with your hair done just like that, or how he wished he could be with you. That is when it would dawn on him that you have taken much more space in his heart than he anticipated. Baldwin never gets distracted during state affairs meetings. And you managed to distract him.

This is when the doubts would creep in. He knows he can’t have an heir born of his own flesh and blood (his heart would clench when he sees you play with Sibylla’s son), thus making marriage an unnecessary option. And yet he desires it with you. It would not be a political marriage, but a union of two souls meant to be together. But would you accept to tie yourself to him in such a way, knowing that the Angel of death would come to take him from you so soon? That he would condemn you to an eternity of grieving and widowhood?

Yet, the more time he spends with you, the more fiercely you latch onto his heart. You are just so dear to him, first of all because he can feel that your interest in him is genuine, not tainted by the thirst for power. Your kindness and sensitivity have stolen his heart even before your looks did. I like to imagine that he would allow himself to be selfish and before he knows it, his mind is set, and he will start courting you. 

“Your Grace!” You quickly stand up from the bench, your book falling from your lap to lay forgotten near the rose bushes. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve been visited by an Angel - all you see is the white and gold of his robe swirling with the wind, sunlight glinting off of the familiar silver mask. You bow as King Baldwin approaches you. What has him out in such a rush, as if a horde of Saracens were at his door? The King says your name with a trembling breath, his shoulders heaving from exertion. You look even more ethereal than ever - sunlight framing you like a halo and the rose bushes arching above you, bathing you in a rainbow of red, pink, orange and white blossoms. He closes the distance between you, coming as close as he dares without breaching the rules of propriety. Something latches fiercely onto his heart when he sees the way you’re looking at him, bright eyes shining with awe and hope, lips slightly parted. Emboldened by your reaction, the King stretches his arm out behind you, gloved hand closing around the stem of a white rose. He pulls at the flower, and you wonder if he can feel the prick of the thorns. The thought is quickly forgotten when he hands the rose to you. This is so unlike him, but at this moment Baldwin feels more like a boy in love, not a King courting his beloved. He repeats your name, relishing the way your face lights up when he pronounces each syllable. “Please, allow me the honor of courting you.”

He would literally be the picture of honor and romance when courting. It’s just what you deserve! Speaking of gifts, he won’t spend a fortune on generic luxury items such as large gems or fine clothes; he’d pick out quality pieces that would be unique and surprisingly perfectly suited to your aesthetic, showing you how thoughtful he really is. Elegant quills, delicate hair pins, rare books, extravagantly scented candles or exotic fragrances would be more his style. He likes to hand the gifts to you when you are out together because he loves seeing your pretty face light up, but I also like to imagine him letting you find the presents in your chambers, with a sweet note attached, for you to still think of him when your day is coming to a close (not that you wouldn’t otherwise). Later on in the courting stage, he’d even have a chess board made just for you where the queen and king match your likeness, for you to enjoy matches together! (That chess board is now in a museum).

Another way of spending quality time would be horse riding. He would be very gallant even if you were a proficient rider, waving away the guards to offer you his hand himself to help you get on and off the horse and making sure that you are correctly mounted first. He’d make your heart race while holding his hand, which is surprisingly strong and firm under his soft glove. When asked about your sudden flush, you would blame it on the hot Jerusalem winds and sun.

His sister would be one of the first people to notice that you found the King’s favor. She is very observant, yet it does not take an expert to see that you and Baldwin have grown quite close. All in all, Sibylla would approve of you and your union with Baldwin, especially after seeing how truly devoted you are to spending time together for the pleasure of each other’s company, without seeking political advantage. She would invite you to spend time together, such as chatting while having your henna painted, because she wants to get to know the person who clearly stole her brother’s heart.

All in all, I think a courtship with Baldwin would be sweet, hopeful and discreet at first. Soon enough, the court would see that Baldwin is quite taken with you. The most ambitious courtesans would use this knowledge in hopes of exploiting your connection with the King to their advantage. Luckily, I also think Baldwin would be quite protective, and as soon as he senses that you’re attracting unwanted attention, he would get Tiberias, Balian or a trusted advisor to help him keep an eye on you. However, on a positive note, you would instantly gain the respect of the most loyal members of the court. After all, if a King as wise as Baldwin has chosen you, that speaks volumes about your character. 🙂

dividers by: @/firefly-graphics

#king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin x reader #king baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven #koh #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #king baldwin iv #king baldwin #mywriting

[atragicallycrispydude]

SLAYER

SLAYER IS HERE AND HES AMAZING

a few quick notes:

-c.s>f.s>c.s>f.s is still a thing! the timing feels a bit different from xrd, but its there! no 5K link, though, just use 5H. (EDIT: 5K does link I just suck ass)

-if you can land 6H, you can land P Pile. you can confirm 6H from any hit c.s, air hit 5K, or most of the counter moves such as It's Late, 5H, or Master's Hammer.

-Super Mappa Hunch is a FULL SCREEN WHIFF PUNISH. It is preposterously fast, as well, but you can block it after the super freeze.

-CH Mappa still links into 5K, but ONLY K Mappa. P Mappa gives you nothing on counter hit. CH Mappa > 5K/c.s > 6H > P Pile is quite good, with a lot of corner carry and easy wallstick if you're close enough. use c.s if you're in the corner.

-Pilebunker only wallsticks on normal hit at close range (unless you've done enough damage to the wall, presumably), but counter hit pilebunker will stick from seemingly anywhere so long as your opponent touches the wall (i think? i havent actually tested it but from what i saw doing the arcade mode...)

-Bloodsucking Universe increases the damage Slayer's specials do (for example, Pilebunker goes from 80 to 100 dmg.)

-Slayer gets basically nothing on any Dandy Step followup normal hit without meter, they just result in a soft knockdown so you can reset pressure.

-if you manage to get a Chipp to 100 RISC, while you have 100 meter, and then land a CH Mappa, you can do this combo. It feels weirdly difficult? Last Horizon is not cancelled into here, just linked into, but it feels kinda tight. other than that its very practical, this will be an important bnb.

-He is INSANELY SLOW. His dash is not jump-cancellable and doesnt move him very far, which makes sense given his close range damage.

-Hand Of Doom is pretty whatever, i dont think its invincible the whole way through but i havent really experimented with it much yet.

-Last Horizon hits like 6 times but all of the hits are counted as one, so it scales decently, but be careful using it as it does not break the wall.

all in all hes super super fun and i cant wait to play him against actual people

Edit as I've had some time on Floor 10 with him:

-i don't know if I'm just using it wrong, but Hand of Doom kinda sucks? I think it is invincible but it's quite hard to land (I'm not used to backdashing on wakeup in this game though so it might just take some time to get used to)

-Super Mappa Hunch does NOT suck it's a really good move. Great whiff punish, great fireball punish, though very unsafe on block obviously. It also has a clean hit for some reason? And its, like, slightly longer than round start range? Very strange

-his pressure is pretty similar to Sol's where he just kinda has to fish for counterhits using his normals, and if he uses a special move other than Master's Hammer, you can take your turn back (probably)

-Speaking of Masters Hammer: plus TWENTY FUCKING SIX??? REALLY? I get that it's like 43 frames of startup but Jesus Christ. I'd be fine with it if the hitbox wasn't so obnoxious but it seems to be the size of a small car

-I genuinely cannot understate how horrible his movement is. It is genuinely garbage. Mappa Hunch can help you get in, but JESUS he's slow. He feels kinda like Pot now, actually, given that he has to get in to apply really good pressure

-Bloodsucking Universe is maybe active for a weirdly long time? I've seen the whiff come out and then the grab lands, but that could just be rollback shenanigans

-I miss Crosswise Heel. It was a good answer to jumping over Dandy Step but now you can just jump over Dandy Step. Yes I know it needs weaknesses Slayer is super super powerful but shhhhhhh

#guilty gear #slayer guilty gear #ggst #guilty gear strive #fuck his stage 9 arcade boss battle by the way it was bullshit