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sim0nril3y · 3 months

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Meet the Family

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon has the joy of meeting your family and finding out why don't you see or talk about them all that much. This brings up some unwanted memories and feelings for him too. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), family drama, shouting, very small mention of Simon's childhood, family disapproval, family arguing, reader has family, reader has siblings, family names are established but no descriptions, canon-typical swearing.

It appeared that your phone was making more of a ruckus than usual later. It seemed to buzz and beep much more frequently, each time your eyes cast down to check it they narrowed, then rolled before you pushed the device far, far away from where you had to interact with it. Yet still it actively vied for your attention. “Everything okay, babe?” Simon quizzed, pulling the cork out of the wine he’d chosen and beginning to pour you a glass. “Fine.” You short answer replied, picking up the glass and taking a large gulp.

Taking a seat opposite Simon battled internally about whether to push this conversation anymore. He wondered, if the situation was reversed if you would have tried to get more information out of him. Bloody hell. You would. “I just couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… upset by your phone.” Nodding his head in the direction of the device. “Is something up?”

For a moment you paused, mauling over the situation for a moment before letting out a low huff and answering. “My sister is having a ‘get-together’ for her anniversary…” You announced with a heavy amount of disdain in your voice. “We’ve been invited.” Of course, you’d mentioned your family before but until this point Simon had never met them and the opportunity had never been there. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m invited Anna said it’ll just be close family…”

“Well, I guess you count as close family considering you’re her sister, love.” Simon pointed out and you let out a low huff again. “Who else is going to be there?” “My mum and dad. My little brother Peter. Obviously, my older sister Anna, her husband Barney and their son Hunter.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that. It would be a lot of your family to meet at once. “And do you… want to go?”

Again, you didn’t have a response right away, eyes darting away before back towards him. “I… I don’t know…” Then shaking your head. “Anna is begging me to come, but I know that is only to get the heat off her because if I’m there then all my parent’s attention will fall to me and they will explain exactly where I’ve gone wrong with my life.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that comment, he didn’t like the thought of your family speaking poorly of you. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “Would… you want to go?” The question came out tiny and vulnerable, like you might scare him off with that alone.

“They know about me?” Simon quizzed, he’d never met them and he’d never really pressed to do that, he was in love with you and that was all he needed in his life. “They do…” You replied evenly. “They don’t approve... It isn’t because of you.” You quickly add with wide eyes. “They don’t approve of anyone outside of the family. They hated any girl that Peter brought home and they tolerate Barney, but that is only because they gave them a grandchild to fawn over.” You explained before frowning. “Si, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come…”

For a moment he mauled over his options, he could go and accept whatever snide comments and berating came from your family, or he could send you to the wolves and stay home like a coward. Simon Riley was not a coward. “Tell her we’ll be there.” He leaned over to clink his glass against her own.

It was a bit of a drive to Anna’s home she shared with her husband and their son, but that gave you plenty of time to fill in all the dirty details about your family. You had started with your older sister, she was seen as the golden child and your parents bragged about almost everything that she did, her perfect marriage, her perfect children, her perfect house and her perfect holiday home. You explained, Anna had gone to a top University to study finance, but during her gap year galivanting about the US she’d met Barney who’d promptly fallen in love with her and got her pregnant. This wouldn’t typically be too big of a problem, apart from the fact that Anna been engaged before setting off and in a desperate need to escape the monotony of her relationship and her perfect life she’d thrown it all away from another lad.

It was a blow to her parents that their perfect eldest daughter had this mishap, however the fact that Barney came from an incredibly wealthy family and owned his own tech company certainly helped ease him into the family. Then their grandson Hunter came into the picture and everything was a perfect ending from there.

On the other hand, there was your younger brother Peter who had barely scraped by in his school and your parents had to persuade Universities to accept him. He spent more times in clubs than in his classes. Your parents saw him as a typical boy, causing some trouble and chasing the ladies. Boys will be boys; they’d excused with a hearty laugh as Peter would be trotted to the cells for indecent exposer or public indecency. Still even after all the trouble he’d caused Peter was still the apple of their eyes, your mother fawned over him and your father tried moulding him into his protégé.

Then there was you. With a sister that was perfect and a brother that they dotted on that left very little time or energy for you. It seemed like you just slipped through the cracks. Even when they did have time spare for you every decision, you’d made they hadn’t approved. In their eyes, you were simply the wild little fuck-up. It pained and riled Simon that anyone thought of you as anything but perfect and good and kind.

Once they arrived at your sisters’ home Simon was surprised to find that it was an expensive looking townhouse that had been renovated to have some modern features. This strangle matched the dreamhouse that you’d muttered to him one night in your post-sex chatter, it made Simon wonder who had desired the house first, maybe it was you and Anna had simply stolen that dream to taunt you. Approached the modern frosted glass door, it opened and out stepped an older woman with a disguised smile on her face, dressed in a smart, conservative dress with sharp kitten heels. Your hand squeezed his own as you approached, announcing nicely. “Mum…” Ah, your mother, Cynthia…

“Hello darling.” Her voice was soft but hiding something, like a sickly sweet venom that was encasing you both. You had mentioned that she was high strung and highly critical, that remained to be seen. If there was one thing that Cynthia enjoyed in life it was gossiping, followed by bragging about her family, or at least some of her family members, certainly not you, you’d joked to Simon but there was a pained reality to that snide remark. “Look at you, that is certainly an interesting dress…” She observed, cupping your face then. “You look very tired, are you sleeping well?” The snide remarks had already begun, Simon observed.

You complained lowly. “Mum…” Then looked towards Simon, eyes pleading for some form of help or safety or escape but only found his own dark set that matched your own fear. “This is-” Cynthia cut you off and turned her viper grin towards at him, those dangerous eyes scanned him and searched for any little weakness or vulnerability. “This must be Simon.” Cynthia let out an almost cynical laugh. “Now, I must ask your sister to set another place, we weren’t sure that you were real…” It was another little dig that made you wince.

Cynthia then allowed the two of you to follow her further into the house, a lounge area stood before them and three men lingered inside of it. An older man sat on the sofa, drink in hand and head drooping, another around Simon’s age stood behind a small make-shift bar, cleaning glasses and straightening bottles of the labels faced out and proud and then across the room a younger man was texting on his phone. “Simon, make yourself comfortable with the men. That is my husband, Harold. This is my son-in-law, Barney.” Cynthia even gifted him a snide smile, the same she had done to Simon, they were outsiders after all, not as important as blood, simply there to give her grandchildren. “And that is my son Peter~”

Turning to you and lowering her voice, Cynthia said. “Darling, don’t worry that you didn’t bring a present, your sister understands that you don’t make a lot of money-” “N-no, I just left it at home.” You attempted to explain but your mother just chortled lowly and squeezed your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure… just like how Peter ate all your Christmas chocolate when you were 10, hmm?” Then she poked your tummy in jest. “But I think we all know where it went.”

Simon forced himself to grit his teeth, looking between and watching you purse your lips, accepting the vicious attack with a tight smile and glossy eyes. “Now, don’t make that face~” Cynthia smirked directly at you, as if knowing she was pushing your buttons. “Come, your sister will want some help in the kitchen, I’m sure you’ll survive being apart from your boyfriend for five minutes, hmm?” Then looking towards Simon and asking. “You won’t mind if I borrow her, will you?”

More than anything he wanted to deny her, snatch you up into his side and away from anymore of her cruel remarks, but her claw-like hands were already circling you and tugging you from the room before he had a chance. The next moment, a presence walked up behind him and Simon turned to see a very happy looking man stood there. “Hey man…” A thick American accent rolled from him. “My name is Barney, you must be Simon, right?” He was quick to shake his hand and comment. “Quite the grip there, you play golf?”

Shaking his head Simon followed him back to where he’d been lingering (or probably hiding) behind his bar. “Do you drink, man? What’s your poison?” Barney asked enthusiastically, very proudly gesturing to the array of bottles that were placed behind the bar, squeaky clean but hardly used. “Whiskey. Neat.” Then leaning against the bar and waiting for it to be made. Another approached, this time your brother, tucking his phone away into his pocket as he sidled up beside him, elbows resting on the bar too, matching him stance for stance. “Simon, right? The latest addition to our fucked up little family.” Peter commented, his tone just as snide as his mother’s – the apple didn’t fall far, he supposed. “I’m sure my sister told you all about me…”

“She mentioned a few things…” Simon answered evenly, reaching out to take the offered drink from Barney, drinking it down a little too quickly to appear casual. Bloody hell, he’d been on battlefields and felt less anxious. “Well, I’ve got a few stories about my sister that I’m sure you’ll want to hear too~” The young lad began before Simon glanced in his direction, testing and bothered by his presence.

Sensing the impending tension Barney let out a hearty chuckle and said. “Maybe another time, huh?” Then giving Peter a pointed look. “Simon… what do you do for a job?” He asked in a friendly enough way, this seemed to catch the attention of Harold who actually glanced in his direction, quietly accessing and judging, it felt like you were the only normal one to actually come out of this family. “I’m in the special forces.” Simon explained, keeping his answers short and sweet, not allowing too many details to slip out, it wouldn’t be professional. They all had different reactions to this little piece of information. Peter quirked a brow whilst Barney grinned and nodded. “That’s tight. Respect, man.”

“A solider…” Peter muttered. “Lieutenant, actually.” Simon corrected in a sharp tone. There wasn’t many things in life he was proud about but you and his career were among the only few.

Again, your brother seemed to stir from beside him. “So…” Looking at him, wanting to judge Simon’s reaction. “How many people you killed?” The question was so crass that it actually made Barney gasp before letting out a nervous laugh and saying. “Pete, I’m not sure you can ask questions like that, man…” Then another laugh before giving his brother-in-law a soft punch on the shoulder, followed by a pointed look, don’t push.

There was this clear power struggle that Peter was trying to win. This happened often with rich boys like your brother, they saw Simon as a threat because he was physically much more impending than them, feeling even worse when they discovered that Simon wasn’t as dumb as they thought he looked.

“Not something that I keep count of…” Simon answered keeping his face straight, remaining unbothered. It was a good answer, it was formal and dignified, not to mention filled with some honesty. It wasn’t like Simon could even keep count anymore, even if he had wanted to. Peter seemed unimpressed with that answer and simply huffed before saying. “Bet you could think of at least five different ways to kill me in here, right?” Again, this spiked the interest of Harold, glancing in their direction.

Another challenge. Another prod. Another opportunity to attempt to make Simon look unhinged. Attempting to break the tension Barney laughed awkwardly. “This joker-” “I could think at least ten.” Simon retorted, dark eyes watching Peter to see that smugness falter for just a moment as true fear sank in. From across the room for just a split second Harold smirked then it washed away as he finished his fifth drink of the night.

The room was thick with an air of tension as you stepped inside looking completely flustered. “It’s uh… it’s time for dinner.” You informed them, frowning as you tried to access the atmosphere, approaching Simon to rest a delicate hand on his forearm, wrapping yourself around the limb. The room cleared out as Barney escorted his in-laws to his dinning room. Gazing up at Simon, you asked. “You alright?”

Simon’s eyes seemed to focus on where Peter had been escorted from the room, watching that area on alert for a few moments before his gaze flittered back in your direction. “Told your brother I could think of ten ways to kill him in this room alone…”

You blinked. Slow and calculating. Attempting to understand the words that Simon had just rushed in your direction. “Excuse me?” You muttered, staring up into his eyes in confusion. “Why… why would you say-” “He was pushing me.” There was an edge of frustration to his tone. You brother had gotten under Simon’s skin a lot more than he was willing to admit aloud. Reaching up you cupped his face and looked into his eyes with such care and sincerity, it really did pain you to witness your family treating him in a way that left him so anxious and wound up. “I believe you.” You whispered. “I believe you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My fucking family… It’s my family, they make it their mission to push and prod and make your life misery. I’m sorry-”

A short huff came from Simon, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently and replying. “You don’t ever apologies for any of them.” He told you, voice firm and sure. There was no part of this that was your fault. You were born into a family of cynical fakers, wanting to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as their own. He hadn’t even been around them for an hour yet, but Simon could see that you were the only good thing to come from your family. He could force himself to survive the rest of the dinner party for you… but when this was over, he never wanted to see these people again.

“Come on, now…” Your mothers voice entered the lounge and she lingered in the doorway, big fake smile on her lips and glass of wine in hand. “You were late to the party and now you’ll be late for dinner too…” Cynthia chortled, clearly still holding that grudge. “I swear, my darling girl would be late to her own funeral too…” The comment was made as she swayed down the hallway towards the dining room, Simon simply grit his teeth and continued to bite his tongue. A few more hours, he reminded himself constantly.

The dinner that was severed was nice enough. Honestly, the only cooking that you actually enjoyed nowadays was anything that Simon served up for you and it was something he was more than happy to take care of for you. It was mundane and simple and peaceful, just for some time he could force his noisy brain to shut off, it simply wasn’t warfare.

You sat beside him, food pushing around your plate, probably each little biting comment from your mother stripped away any hunger from you. Cynthia had persuaded your siblings to list all their recent achievements to you, which they seemed all too happy to do. Maybe they knew that if all that vitriol that poured from your mother was aimed at you, then they’d continue to escape it… or maybe they enjoyed it because they were just as cruel as she was.

“Are you enjoying the food?” Cynthia quirked a soft brow at Simon, it was a strange observation but Simon noted that your mother wore a face so similar to your own, maybe more than the rest of your siblings but not even one of your expressions matched. There was so much pure and true joy and easiness in your smile, but each time your mother did the same it seemed like it might crack her face into tiny pieces. “I’m sure you aren’t used to a good homecooked meal, hmm?” Then laughing lowly. “Especially with this one’s cooking…” Pointing a fork in your direction.

“It’s fine.” Simon responded evenly, clearly not to exaggerated praise that your mother had been expecting, simply narrowing her eyes and taking back another gulp of wine. “I like to cook for us…” His hand then rests on your knee beneath the table, reminding you that you weren’t alone facing your horrid family, but that Simon had your back. “Between the two of us, I have more time to cook, anyway.” Then he shrugged, gazing in your direction and seeing your desperation to find safety and warmth within him. “With all the hours that she works and then the time she spends on her art, I like to keep her fed…” Too afraid to continue aloud, Simon thought, keep her warm, provided for her, keep her happy, keep her satisfied. Just… keep her.

A deep scoff came from Cynthia then, another big glug of wine until her glass was empty. It seemed that Simon had given Peter the opportunity to speak then, smirking from across the table. “Speaking of work…” Those dangerous eyes loomed as you sat a little straighter in your chair. “Heard from a friend that you missed that interview dad set up…” The comment was thrown out there so casually but you were left reeling as you knew the chaos that simple comment would cause. Besides, how did he even know that? There wasn’t a chance in the world that Peter had friends to be able to tell him that information, so what? Was he following you? Keeping tabs on you? Before you even had the chance to interrogate him Cynthia spoke first.

“No, no…” Placing down the wine bottle onto the table with a heavy thud, eyes fixed on you. “Please tell me that isn’t true.” Raising her brows, as if waiting for you to deny Peter’s allegations but you remained sheepishly quiet. “You lied to me.” There was a fiery rage in her eyes now and you knew that you were in for it. “You told me that you went. I can’t believe you would lie to your own mother…” Your mouth opened then, as if to defend yourself but Cynthia was much too quick to continue her tirade. “We have spoken about this again and again… I made it clear it is time to give up on this silly little fantasy that you’ve been holding onto. It is time to grow up and join the real world. You need to be more like your brother and your sister…” Gesturing wildly to them as Anna sat almost ashamed with her gaze down to her lap and Peter sat there with a smarmy smile the instigator of this.

Again, you opened your mouth, but her hand came up sharp in your direction. “Do you know the strings your father had to pull to organise that interview?” Then gesturing towards Harold who seemed completely unphased, cutting his steak into another bitesize piece whilst his wife continued to berate their daughter before the audience. “You are such an ungrateful brat and you always have been. When will you understand? You have absolutely zero desirable qualities so finding a decent job will be very difficult for you… who in their right mind is going to want to hire someone like you, hmm?”

Everyone apart from Cynthia and Peter appeared mortified, Anna looked to you with horror on her face and then Barney spoke, careful smile on his face. “She still had plenty of time to figure out what she wants to do, right? Anna took a gap year during college… Pete did the same… So, she isn’t going abroad or whatever, instead she’s trying to… to… figure out if she can follow her passion, I think it’s-” “Be quiet.” Cynthia growled at him then, teeth grit. “Don’t talk such nonsense… Peter and Anna were working hard at college and needed a break to find themselves and after returned to college and get their degrees. What does she have? Nothing. I couldn’t even convince her to apply to any colleges… She is a lazy, stubborn, silly little girl and you are chasing a hopeless dream-” “Enough.”

Every set of eyes then turned to look at Simon who sat with a furious look present on his face. At the beginning of the evening, he could maybe accept those biting little comments, he could certainly accept the way that Peter had provoked him, Simon could even accept the way that your mother had sat there bragging about your siblings but he wasn’t going to allow her to utterly humiliate you like this. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her that way.” Carefully from beside him, you muttered his name, a soft plead to try and calm the fight that seemed inevitable now. “No.” He told you firmly, quietly, gazing down at you with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. “I won’t just sit there and let her fuckin’ talk to you like this… I wont… I can’t…”

It wasn’t like Simon had grown up in a good household. It was clearly different from your own. Simon had witnessed his father completely decimate any good in his family and he was too young and too small and too scared to stop him or do anything. This is why he is the man he is today; he wouldn’t allow that again and seeing your family ripping you to shreds, tearing apart any good and hope and light inside of you was too much for him. Not you. Never you.

“Simon, please. You simply don’t understand...” Cynthia began. “My daughter lives in this word of make believe where she thinks she is going to become and artists and be able to make money and buy big houses like her sister. It’s just ridiculous. I’ve tried getting through to her, but-” “Your daughter is a fuckin’ adult.” Simon growled then, leaning into the table slightly so he could talk across at her. “She doesn’t need you to find her a job and she doesn’t need you to approve the choices that she makes in her life.” Simon growled, feeling this need to protect you and keep you safe, that very same one that had grown for his mother in his childhood. Different, but… the same. “Your daughter… your daughter is fuckin’ amazing. There isn’t a thing about her that needs to change. She’s intelligent and she’s soft and kind and she’s really fuckin’ talented and I wonder how all of that managed to happen when she grew up around you cunts-” The entire table seemed to gasp in unison.

There seemed to be this stunned silence before everyone erupted, Peter almost fell off his chair laughing, whilst baby Hunter wailed from the commotion. Cynthia stood stark upright, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Unacceptable! Disgusting! Unacceptable! He’s an animal! He’s feral!” Stalk through the house on a tirade of insults aimed in his direction with her husband trailing behind her. Anna was trying to hopelessly clean a puddle of wine from where it had teetered over onto the table. “It’s fucking vintage!” There were real tears in her eyes, much to Simon’s surprise.

Just then Barney stood up, bouncing his son in his arms and looking between you and Simon. “I think… I think it would be best if you guys left.” There was sorrow in his eyes as he suggested it, not wanting to be unkind but just not wanting anymore drama. It was probably for the best even if Simon did have a few more choice words for them.

The entire car ride home you were unusually quiet beside him. He was actually a little lost on how to handle this situation. There weren’t a part of him that was sorry for what he’d said to your family, or more specifically your mother. Simon just couldn’t handle the fact that she could talk to you in such a vile way. There was only so much that Simon was willing to take and he’d lost it. Fuck, had he scared you? Were you mad at him? Were you sad for causing a rift in your family? Had he even caused a rift? Clearly, they hadn’t thought very much of you before he’d been there…

A small sniffle from beside him caught his attention, glancing in your direction and under the glow of the streetlamps Simon saw your face wet with tears. Without hesitation Simon signalled and pulled his truck onto an empty road, clambering from the driver’s seat and around to yank open your door. A moment later his arms were around you, hand supporting the back of your head burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. “You’re alright. Shh. You’re alright, babe.”

After a few moments of allowing, you to just sob into his shoulder, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Don’t ca-care what they s-say about me-” “Well, I do.” There was a thick edge to his voice, pulling back to cup your face and looking for any sign of fight towards your family but you seemed defeated, you seemed emotionally drained. Where was that witty girl that had corned him on a night out? Where was the one that had to almost twist his arm to open up? Where was that fight for her own pretty self? “I care about what they say about you because they are dead fuckin’ wrong, babe. No one deserved to be talked to like that. I won’t allow it.”

There was something deeper simmering here behind all this. There was something that Simon didn’t want to confess or discuss. The berating. The belittling. The treatment of less than… This was something that Simon wouldn’t allow for you because he had experienced it and much worse. “You don’t deserve it.” It was like Simon was talking to all the people in his life that hadn’t deserved the fate they were given. You. Him. His mum. His brother. His friends he’d lost. The soldiers that had died in his arms. “Okay?” “Okay.”

Masterlist | Ask | 04-02-2024

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tragedy-of-commons · 25 days

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killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car.

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two.

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys.

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on.

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?”

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.”

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm.

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #ajax x reader #genshin impact #zira's lover : event

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

Text

Submission

Photography Professor!Fem!Reader x subby!student!Wanda

Word count: 1,060

Warnings: student teacher relationship, established relationship, W submits to R

Her eyes watched you from afar twice a week. Green emeralds trained on you as you walked back and forth talking about various photography methods. Today was specifically about filling a frame and how to do so properly.

As you continued to impart your knowledge on framing techniques, you couldn't help but notice how Wanda's dedication shone through her unwavering focus. Her presence in the classroom was a testament to her commitment to the craft. Her every movement calculated and deliberate, as if each second spent in your lecture, was a precious opportunity not to be squandered.

You knew some of these students were taking this class as an art elective, but this semester you had a good amount of actual photography majors one of them being Wanda Maximoff whose eyes don’t leave you the entire three hours of your lecture.

During the breaks, while other students dispersed, Wanda remained rooted in her seat, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on fascination. It wasn't just admiration; there was something deeper in those emerald eyes, a hunger for knowledge, perhaps, or maybe a recognition of a kindred spirit in the realm of photography.

You looked through your papers and notes while snacking on something that required one hand. Today, you had a small bag of popcorn, and you noticed she had some apple slices today, which made you smile. She was behaving and listened to you when you told her that she should have healthier snacks during classes.

As it came up to the last hour of class, you began talking about a photo contest that everyone was welcome to enter into. You always loved contests and competitions. You especially loved seeing everyone’s submissions and the different approaches they would each take to different competitions.

“Alright class I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough. I’ll be passing out flyers for you to look over. The deadline is next Friday for the Fine Art Photography Competition. So, if you wish to participate, please hand in your photo to me before then, and if you’re picked, we will be going to Germany on an all expense paid trip. Your photo to be displayed for art critics and lovers alike to take notice of you. If you are chosen for some of you, this could be your big break into the art world.” You tell them, your heels clicking as you walk back and forth, your dark grey cardigan flowing behind you.

“Is there any specific theme we need to work with?” One of your students, Jean Gray, asked with a raised hand.

“No, so please, I implore you to work with your strong suits if you want to enter. The sky is the limit on this. Your eye and imagination are what will hold you back, but I believe in all of you.” You told them confidently and finished up answering any other questions before dismissing them for the day. “I will see you all on Tuesday. Have a good weekend, everyone.”

They all filed out as you sat back at your desk, pushing your glasses up on top of your head as you look at the papers on your desk, reading through the students latest works and quizzes from Tuesday that needed to be done by next Tuesday along with ones needed tomorrow for your Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes. You hear a pair of boots walking towards you. You don’t have to look up to know who is standing in front of you,

“Yes Wanda can I help you?” You say keeping your gaze on the papers in front of you, marking them as you go and looking at the photographs that go with the assignments. Grading art, even after going through getting your Master of Fine Arts and teaching for a few years now, grading artwork wasn’t always so easy.

“Ms. Y/L/N...” You flick your eyes up just enough to see she’s playing with the hem of her skirt, pulling it up ever so slightly as she does so. You take your eyes off her thighs that you just want to bury your face in. You know better, though; not here, never here. Now she’s pulling her sleeves over her hands as she begins. “I...I want to enter the competition, but...” Her words trail off as you finally huff out, tearing your eyes away from your paperwork.

“Wanda. Words. Use them.” You say a little frustrated with her. You see her bite her lip, and for you that’s strike three of her anxious habits. “Come here.” You command, moving yourself back from the desk, turning your chair to the side so she can stand in front of you, which she does without need for more words. “Kneel.” You tell her, and she does so. You smile at her easy submission to you. She had always been so pliable for you. “There now that you’re where you belong. Do you feel better?” You ask, tilting her chin up so her eyes meet with your own.

“Yes.” She smiles up at you, you can see how she’s calmed just from the small form of dominance over her, sometime it was all she needed for her head to clear up and the thoughts to quiet down even if it’s only for a little bit.

“Good now, what is it about the photo competition that’s bothering you so much, sweet girl?” You ask, running your fingers through her hair as she sets her chin against your thighs. She gently tilts her head so she can look up at you.

“Well my specialty like yours is boudoir photography. Is it okay to submit something like that?” You smirk, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, letting your nails scratch gently at her scalp. She closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

“Yes just not too risky, okay, pretty girl? Also, the picture better not be of you. Your body is my eyes only.” You tell her, and she smiles with a nod. “I need to get back to these papers and you,” You boop her nose, “need to get to your next class so off you go little one. I’ll see you tonight.” She smiles, getting up. You pull her back in for a chaste kiss before letting her head off with the promise of seeing you later.

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #subby!wanda #professor!reader #professor!au #wanda maximoff x female reader

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diagonal-queen · 1 year

Note

HELLO LOVELY! I saw your tank top thingy and am now inclined to request this. Could you do a fem. s/o that wears nightgowns to bed for dazai, ranpo, and fyodor? bonus points if you add your favorite characters :)

Now im not talking about those skimpy, lacy, lingerie ones. nono, im talking about the long vintage ones. kinda like in peter pan, what wendy was wearing, but white. think cottage-core vibes.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/955248247/vintage-white-women-long-nightgown-lace

you don't have to do this if you dont want to! but just remember, have fun! and stay hydrated! ❤️

GOOD DAY!! This is a very interesting req anon! I quite like it! I’d be lying if I said I never wanted one of these nightgowns that you’re referring to lmao. They’re just so graceful and pretty 💖💖 also you're very sweet thank you!

Reader who sleeps in a nightgown

♡ pairing: Dazai Osamu, Ranpo Edogawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Mykola Hohol, Edgar Allan Poe x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys react to a reader who wears a nightgown to sleep?

♡ cw: A couple of naughty words, suggestive behaviour (goddamnit Dazai and Fyodor specifically)

note: You said I could add faves so I threw Mykola and Poe in there for the funsies (was gonna put Oda too but I could not think of anything for this poor guy I'm sorry) 🌸 Apologies for errors, hope you enjoy :)

Dazai:

At first he probably teases you and says you look like a curtain or a ghost or something T-T

But he's not a complete jerk. He does think you look like an angel and he tells you as much eventually (I feel like he would lowkey be into old-fashioned romantic stuff sometimes especially if it involves you wearing a pretty nightgown <3)

Constantly quizzing you on how you're able to comfortably wear something like this to sleep because to him it looks kind of uncomfortable? When you try to tell him that it's fine and you think it looks pretty he drops the subject but lowkey still worries about it

Plays with your sleeves or the skirt of the nightgown while he's lying next to you

From then on if you guys ever watch old fashioned movies ft. women who wear similar nightgowns, he always points it out. He's like 'That's like the one you have! You look better in it though'

He's a charmer for sure this guy

Though he does think you look lovely, he is still a bit of a pervert. It's rather possible Dazai might try to feel you up through the nightgown. Damnit Dazai

Ranpo:

Ranpo is honestly probably a little confused at first. Like this is the 21st century, why are you wearing this?

THAT BEING SAID he is actually rather happy to sleep with you while you're wearing an old-fashioned nightgown. It's like being wrapped in your own little silky blanket!

He fiddles with it when he's bored and rubs his face against it just because he's kinda weird like that (lovingly)

Probably asks Yosano/Fukuzawa about it because let's be real, as smart as Ranpo is he doesn't understand why you would wanna cover yourself in so much fabric when you go to sleep (autistic things 2.0 <3)

Otherwise he does think you look very elegant. He also thinks it's cute that you care so much about always looking nice even if you're just hanging out in bed with him

But at the same time he's like 'Well how are you supposed to eat snacks in bed if you're wearing something that isn't supposed to get dirty??/??????????'

Actually does make an effort to not get any crumbs on you though because he knows that you care about your nightgowns <3

Fyodor:

He already thinks of you as an angel- so why not look like one too?

Fyodor is relatively old fashioned (at least in my head), so he's happy with what you've chosen to wear. It's mature and modest, but it's also so ~pretty~ that he can't keep his hands off you

Somewhere in his fucked up little brain spouts a twinge of possessiveness because you're just so enchanting and you look so innocent! Why should anyone else get to see you in your undergarments (even though it's basically a dress)? They shouldn't, end of story

Tbh he probably gets turned on if he thinks about it too long -_-

Fyodor sometimes likes to fondly watch you while you're sleeping, so the nightgown really adds cuteness points for him

He's always praising you for looking beautiful even in your sleep- probably compares you to Sleeping Beauty because he's messed up like that <3

He always holds you gently while you two sleep and presses soft kisses to your neck because that's like the only part of you he can access lol

Overall he acts very calm but is lowkey just a little TOO into it

Mykola:

Mykola is so dramatic about it. He's like 'MY EYES HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY AN ETHEREAL BEAUTY FROM THE HEAVENS' or something else dumb like that

But the thing is, he actually means that. He's just very theatre kid-esque in his delivery which makes it seem like a mockery lol

He just thinks you look so cute! He spins you in his arms and pinches your cheeks

Asks you to give him a couple twirls in the same way that your mother does when you're trying on a new outfit

I believe that 'yangoliatka' is a term of endearment in Ukrainian that means 'angel'? If so then he would ABSOLUTELY call you that (I'm so sorry if that's wrong- I don't speak Ukrainian T-T)

Picks you up bridal style 'to practice' because you kinda do look vaguely like a bride. When you get shy he just laughs (menace behaviour)

You know those noir films with those really drawn out but trying-to-be-romantic sex scenes (where the girl inevitably wears one of those fancy nightgowns?) Yeah he'd try to recreate one of those because he thinks it's funny

Poe:

Yeah uh. He was absolutely the one who bought it for you in the first place.

He's just an old-school romantic boy and thought you would look beautiful in a nightgown! (spoiler: he was right)

Poe thinks you are ethereal, gorgeous, stunning, exquisite, graceful, elegant, ravishing, all of the above

In short he's totally enamoured with you and lets you know how beautiful you look even though you are wearing pyjamas

He's a gentleman and asks if you're alright with him cuddling you in case he creases it or something (plus he's also very much content to just sit beside you and admire you)

His heart is beating so fast as he pulls you into his arms because in his head is probably some insane paranoia about how perfect you are and how unworthy he is or something

He probably starts spilling all this poetic prose about how you outshine all of the beautiful women in history (y'know like Aphrodite, Cleopatra, Helen, and also Annabel and Lenore duhh)

He will be buying you more of these in different colours and styles for sure

Before anyone comes at me- yes I am doing the asks out of order. Sometimes ideas come to me much faster for one prompt than they do for the other, but I promise I am doing my best to complete all of them. Also imagine being Poe’s sugar baby awhhh maybe I should write it

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Teach me, Mommy

Professor!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Warnings: Jealousy.

Smut: Subby Nat. Mommy (R), Good Girl/Baby (N), “BJ,” Strap (N), Choking, Punishment (Spanking).

18+ | Minors DNI

The echo of heels clicking against the polished linoleum of the large lecture hall caused your gaze to lift from the paperwork on your desk, giving you a chance to ogle your professor as she made her way over to the desk at the front.

The woman looked positively delectable in her red v neck blouse, layered beneath a form fit black suit jacket, and tucked into the front of her matching pencil skirt that fell at her knees.

——

Professor Romanoff, was a gorgeous force to be reckoned with, and when she dressed like this—for you, truth be told, you so wanted to play.

The need to control in her daily life made sense, she was a women leading the science department at a fairly prestigious university. In public she needed to commandeer respect, and she surely did just that, the men she worked over seemed to hold a healthy fear of her.

Once you saw her publicly putting Mr. Stark in his place, you got to see the usually smug man turn as pale as a ghost, so stunned in fact that Mr. Banner had to drag him away from the she devil stood in those calf defining black stilettos. The way she smirked as she turned around is what initially drew you to her. Because beneath those eyes dripping with power you saw the precious angel ready to be taken care of.

Everyone else on campus was afraid of her too. She held her head high, and ran a tight ship. Lessons started at 8am, her doors were locked the moment the digital clock hit said time. The homework was tedious, and unlike your other courses it actually required critical thinking. Quizzes took place every Friday, based off study guides that left your brain scrambling.

Even with the heavy workload, she didn't have the same hold over you that she did others. Natasha, as you know her, loved the way she could command a room's attention, but what she loved even more was having all of yours.

Natasha has always been in control, ever since she was little, and had to help raise Yelena. Fighting with just about anyone who got in her way of ensuring her sisters safety and future, so it makes sense that would bleed into her now.

But it didn't reflect her deep desires though.

The truth was she lived to be dominated, to be put in her place when she's stepped out of line, and with you she found herself submitting with ease. Handing you her body without any fight, and she plans to do so for as long as forever.

Natasha could feel your eyes on her, just as she wanted it, as she set up the board for the quiz on genetics. She drew a mock punnet square, because even with as strict as she was, she was not above offering the occasional cheat code.

When she spun around she offered the class a tight lipped smile that fell away when she saw one of your classmates hands on your bicep. "Miss Maximoff, if you don't mind, we have a quiz to start and that requires you be seated."

"Sorry Miss Romanoff," Wanda skittishly rushed away to her desk in the back and you quirked your brow at the professor who only met your gaze with one that dripped danger.

Natasha wasn't one to share, and she wasn't about to start today. As she walked around the class passing out the quizzes she made sure to sway her hips just as she passed by your desk. You quietly chuckled at her show of possession, as if she had anything to worry about, you already claimed her as yours years ago, it's why she had your initials tattooed on her wrist besides a heart made with the intricate grooves of your thumbs. You're hers too, the mark of her soft lips on your ribcage your chosen tie.

The exam was honestly a breeze for you, but for the sake of your cover remaining intact you'd pretended to struggle so you could be the last one seated as students slowly filed on out.

"Y/N, you're my best student, stop pretending that you're still working," Natasha challenged from her desk, the last student left fifteen minutes ago, clearly you were just taunting her.

"I don't know Miss. Romanoff, this exam is really hard," you relayed with a feigned sense of concern, "I sure hope I don't fail and have to retake this course, that would be a bummer."

Natasha rolled her eyes as you placed your test down on her desk, which she realized was a bad idea as you gripped her chin and tilted her head backwards until she was looking at you. "Careful with the attitude pretty girl, you don't want to go pissing mommy off now, do you?"

Natasha shook her head, "I'm sorry mommy," she latched on to your thumb, her tongue ran over the ridges of your skin, then she began to lightly suck as she gazed up at you sweetly. You smirked before looking up at the ticking clock, "You have just enough time to suck me off."

Natasha hummed around your thumb, you could see the way her eyes genuinely lit up at the prospect, and you chuckled as she danced then shimmied out of her seat to her knees. While maintaining eye contact you slipped your digit from her mouth and with the pad of your thumb you spread saliva all over her lips to assist her in her plans to suck you off.

The redhead looked up at you, she sat prettily, and the restraint you witnessed her showing was endearing. She knew better than to touch without guidance, "Good girl," you coo'd as you slid your shorts down to your ankles, then went your boxers and out popped your black strap.

"Follow me baby," you said as you stepped around her to take your place in her chair, you settled a hand on your strap and began to stroke the silicone as Natasha crawled over, "Hurry up baby, your next class starts in fifteen minutes, and I'm not leaving until I cum."

Natasha slackened her jaw, leaving her mouth agape so you could do as you pleased with her. After a few teasing moments of hovering over her you finally pushed the tip beyond her lips. The eager woman took initiative from there and began to bob her head aggressively while her hand applied dizzying pressure to the base.

"There you go baby," you softly growled as the pleasure started to flow throughout your body, your hand now tangled into her hair as you aided her in taking even more of you down her throat to the point that she was gagging.

"Mm, mm, fuck Tash, you're just so good for me," your hips were now thrusting wildly, "Mommy's good girl, fuck, take it all baby."

Natasha's nose met your stomach, the fact that she'd managed to take all of you is what threw you over the edge, the coil within you snapped, and in a controlled manner you moaned out her well deserved praises, "Good girl."

Natasha stared in relative awe as your slick dripped down the front of her desk chair as you stood up. You weren't opposed to chasing your own pleasure, but truth be told you preferred to make the redhead cry out for you, so after a moment tailored for you you tended to brush passed it, so it wasn't a shock you'd already redressed before her breath was back in sync.

"I'll see you in a few hours Miss. Romanoff," you said as you collected her ungraded papers, along with her office keys, "Five minutes," you added with a wink before you were gone.

"Ty budesh' moyey smert'yu," Natasha cursed under her breath, then as per usual, she was up and in order before the students traipsed on in.

(You will be the death of me.)

—

Natasha groaned in relief as the bell rang, you left her in quite the state, and unfortunately she had to sit through two more lectures before there was any promise of relief. Which is why she was on the verge of tears when she entered her office to find only stacks of graded papers.

"For fucks sake," she huffed with her face now in her hands, her bag that was haphazardly thrown in a moment of frustration hit the ground loud enough to conceal your entrance.

"Now, now," you pressed your body into hers from behind, your smirk wide as she tensed, "Tell me baby, is that how a respected woman speaks when she doesn't get what she wants?"

"No m-mommy, but I," she went to defend herself, but you stopped her with a finger to her lips that slid down until you were wrapping your hand around her throat. Natasha was actually grateful, because she had no excuse.

"It's inexcusable Natalia," you reminded her, "Just because you're needy doesn't mean you get to be bitchy," you sneered as you reached forward to clear her desk of her belongings.

You spun her around so she could face you as you spoke, "I was trying to do something nice for you," with a slow, calculated thrust you let the redhead feel the bulge in your shorts, it was sizably bigger than the one she sucked earlier, her eyes widened, and so did your cocky grin.

"I-is that?" Natasha gulped when you nodded, feeling her throat pulse beneath your palm was an incredibly arousing feeling, "What a shame too, mommy was gonna breed her special girl, so I left to change, but now I'm not so sure..."

"No, please, I'm sorry mommy," you cut her off before she could continue pleading, with your tight grip on her throat you tugged her forward until your lips were only millimeters apart, she could taste your breath and instinctually she tried to close the gap, but you stepped back and softly tsk'd as she whined, "Who's in charge?"

"Mommy is..."

"Exactly baby, so if you want something you..." you looked to her with so much confidence that she felt like this was almost a mirror to the lie of who she outwardly is to the world, "Ask."

"Can I have a kiss please?" Natasha whispered, she felt a brief moment of embarrassment, but then all she felt was warmth as you smiled at her, when she felt your hands firmly back on her hips she felt safe, and with your lips finally on hers she truly felt whole. "There she is."

The deceivingly soft kiss melded into a heady entanglement in only a matter of seconds. Natasha melted into you, becoming a pliant body for you to mold to your every whim, you didn't act right away though, you loved to keep her in this constant state of neediness, one she had never felt before with another person.

As your tongue slid over hers, and your hands roamed her body she was becoming quite the whimpering mess that you needed to tend to. Her hips canted against the air with a violent need, so you reluctantly pulled away, and even if she wanted more, part of her didn't want the kiss to end so she gripped your shirt collar.

"Baby," you warned softly, "If you want mommy to help with the mess in your panties then you need to bend over for me, but if you want to kiss then we can do that instead..."

Natasha relinquished her hold instantly, "No," you smiled and pecked her lips, "Over the desk then baby, give mommy her prettiest view."

Once the redhead settled her front against her hardwood desk, with her skirt perfectly bunched up at her hips she sighed dreamily. The poor girl thought she was going to just get a pass to what she wanted with no need for a punishment for her behavior, but as your hand began to knead the flesh of her ass she knew.

"Hmm, how many we thinking baby?"

"Five," she offered and you cackled, "Hilarious, how about 20? One for each question on your chapter 'quiz' since you are just so reasonable."

"Heyyyy, I'm just trying to give everyone a well rounded—," she was cut off with a shriek as your hand made brutal contact with her skin, “Your excuses are null and void, quiet down.”

Natasha took her punishment like a champ, every slap against her increasingly reddening cheeks a reminder that you're always watching. The only thing that taints this was she was a bit of an adrenaline junkie so she pushed back into your hand near the end, "Harder mommy..."

So, for her unconscious disobedience you added five more without a word, each one was surprisingly harsher than the other, and for the last one you rerouted to her cunt, so by the end the woman was sobbing, as she should be.

"What do we say?" You asked as you softly massaged her backside, "Thank you mommy."

"You're welcome," you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, then you awkwardly tilted her head up, you pressed another to her lips as you slid your strap into her slicked hole. The redhead appreciated the way you muffled her screams, she was always very vocal whenever you entered her, so you knew what to do. You always did, she loved your considerate nature.

As you pounded into her you realized that she needed help with the noise, "Quiet now, don't wanna send Banner home with an erection," you whispered through gritted teeth, your hand on her hip squeezed tighter at the mention of her ex, their relationship was tumultuous, and you knew that, but you still hate knowing he has had her in ways you've yet to be able to.

Taking her classes made you exempt from the university fraternization rule, but since you had to be more major focused moving forward you were excited for the prospect of taking her out on the town and showing her off as yours.

"Tell me baby, who fucks you better?" Your free hand roamed between her legs just as she went to answer, you pinched her neglected clit and she shrieked your title into the skin of her palm in an attempt to not broadcast your activities, but you knew that no matter what he heard. There was a vent behind the desk that linked their offices, it's how she found him cheating.

It's how you knew your secret was safe...

Natasha began to quiet down, something about nearing the edge always seemed to cause her to go silent, it was an anomaly to you, you think it was her usual need for control seeping through the cracks, but you nonetheless found it sweet. Endearing really, that you could fuck the well known hard ass professor into a state of zen.

This time however she shocked you, her soft voice came out in a needy whimper, "I'm so close mommy, wanna feel you inside first, please, fill me up, I need it so bad, need you."

“Yeah?” You grunted as you reached down to grip the pump, “You want mommy’s seed? Want me to fill you up until your pregnant?”

Natasha shrieked yes as your words, coupled with the tip of your strap slamming into her inner most sensitive spot, sent her reeling. With a quick squeeze followed by a deep thrust you filled her pussy up with your faux cum, the sensation made her back arch her body into the desk, her head raised up as she screamed into your strategically placed mouth, and you were soon forcefully stilled by her fluttering walls.

Natasha moaned unendingly into your mouth as you managed to fuck her cunt through the resistance. It drove you wild, the sound of the mixed arousals as you drove the strap into her. Eventually the adrenaline from her orgasm faded and she lost the strength to hold her body up all of a sudden to maintain the kiss.

You chuckled as she slumped into the desk, and with a soft movement you pulled out. While she rested her hot skin against the chilled wood you reached into your file cabinet and pulled out a rag so you could clean her up. Then you did just that before you grabbed her pair of emergency sweats from the drawer, which were really just ones she stole from you.

After Natasha was cleaned, and redressed in comfy clothes you pulled her into your body, and settled the both of you into her desk chair. Natasha smushed her face against your chest, she was exhausted from her long day, and if you’d let her she would sleep here tonight.

“Natasha,” you softly called out to her and she groaned, knowing now that you wouldn’t, “Liho has been home alone with Alpine all day, that poor little guy is probably just as nervous as his dad is when around women at the bar.”

“Stupid Bucky,” Natasha grumbled in a muffled voice against you, “He ruins everything good.”

“He’s literally on an emergency military tour,” you cackled in a shocked tone, “Y/N, that was just code for Steve’s finally back in the states.”

Natasha was his childhood best friend, so of course she knew this, but you were slightly offended that she would think you didn’t.

“Yeah, I know Nat, but he’s far too modest to ask us to cat sit so he could fuck his boyfriend,” you smiled as she giggled unabashedly, “Still, he’s a good guy, the least we could do is watch the sweet little feline while he gets to do it.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “Yeah, I get it, I couldn’t even imagine going a year without being fucked by you,” you snorted, “You can’t even go a few days Nat, you’d likely shrivel up.”

The elder woman slapped your shoulder in a futile protest, the truth was clear as day when you take note of your fresh marks layered over and around the fading ones from other days.

“Carry me to the car?” You shook your head in amusement that she’d risk such exposure, but when noting how late it was you deemed it safe, and when all you saw was a bright red Bruce as you exited into the connected parking garage you were happy to have agreed to this.

—

As you two settled into bed you could feel the exhaustion wash over you instantaneously. Natasha couldn't sleep though, she was playing with your limp hand as her thoughts ran wild.

"Malysh?"

You hummed groggily, "Yes baby?"

"How long until you graduate again?"

"Three semesters left, why?"

"We should get married next fall then, so your degree matches your name," she genuinely relayed, her voice was level, but you could hear the subtle insecurities, "Oh, interesting. Why is it that you're not taking my last name, hmm?"

"Because I'm well established in my career as a Romanoff,” she scoffed playfully, “Plus, you need the additive so people remember who you belong to..." her grip on your hand tightened, and you know she was transported back to when Wanda’s hand laid atop your shoulder.

You pulled her body closer, hand interlocking with hers to cut off all of her nervous fiddling, “Hmm, I always thought the one who spends most nights writhing beneath the other took the last name of the champion atop of them,” but your words were nothing short of teasing.

Natasha retracted her hand from yours to slap it away, “Go sleep on the couch Y/N,” she tried to shuffle away in a show of anger, but much to her genuine delight you wouldn’t let her go, “Baby, I'm just kidding, of course I'll become a Romanoff,” you kissed her cheek softly, “Now everyone on campus will know you’re mine.”

Natasha turned to face you, her hand gently settled atop your cheek, “Irrevocably so detka,” she kissed your lips tenderly, then she buried her face into the crook of your neck, “G’nite.”

“Goodnight Natty,” you chuckled softly as she was already snoring, “I love you sweet girl.”

——

3,358 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 💋

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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changbinsboiledegg · 6 months

Note

Hi!!! I really like stories you write and how you do it.

Could i request, if it's okay, skz reaction on their s/o trying to introduce them to her parents, who don't know English or Korean?

Ty♡

Of course any request is okay! Thank you so much for your request, I love it. :) 🫶🫶 I hope these are what you were hoping!

GN! Reader X SKZ

Warnings: None, just fluff. :)

Note: So, I didn't mention any specific language used (obviously something other than Korean and English!) So, that's up to y'all :) As always, ILY and I hope y'all enjoy. I also hope these aren't bad! I be insecure lol don't mind me.

Bold sentences/ words = Reader/Parents/SKZ speaking your chosen language.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He knew your parents spoke a different language than what he was used to and looked up learning resources as soon as you mentioned the language they spoke.

Somewhere in his busy schedule, he fit in time to study before he would eventually meet your parents.

“Can we practice before I head out?” Chan asked, sitting across from you on your bed. You nodded with a smile, touched that he went through so much to learn your mother tongue.

“Right. Imagine I’m my parents. How would you greet me?” You quizzed, waiting for his response.

“Hello. My name is Bang Chan. It’s nice to meet you both.” Chan spoke in the language. You were impressed by how smoothly he said it.

You responded back, using that language. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Chan felt relief, recognizing what you had said. You looked on with a sense of pride. “Do you only know those phrases?”

Chan shook his head, still speaking in your other language. “Not a lot, but the basics.”

“You’re doing really well.” You complimented, meaning every word.

The next day, Chan met your parents and was able to hold a conversation with them before he ultimately tapped out and said, “sorry. I’m not fluent yet.”

Your mom smiled at you in approval, feeling her heart warming at the effort he put in just to speak to them.

Lee Know

“Are they picky with who you date?” Minho asked, among all the other questions he’s asked similarly.

“You’ll be fine.” You reassured with a chuckle, not wanting him to fear meeting your parents.

They spoke a different language that Minho hadn’t been exposed to as much as Korean or English.

Minho stood behind you as you knocked on the door to your parents house. Your dad answered, causing Minho’s nerves to spike.

“Hello.” Minho said, swallowing back his nervousness and smiling politely. Your dad took a few moments, eyeing him.

“Hello.” Your dad imitated him. He looked at you, “is this your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Go easy on him. He’s nervous.” You pleaded, trying to hide the desperation in your tone. Minho just kept smiling, wanting to make a good impression.

Your dad laughed a little, “fine. Tell him it’s nice to meet him and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

You let out a breath of relief and turned to Minho, who patiently waited for your translation.

“He said it’s nice to meet you and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

Minho’s smile widened as he looked at your dad, who stepped out of the way to let you both in.

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” Minho bowed to him. You nodded towards your dad.

“He said it’s nice to meet you too, dad.”

Changbin

Changbin loved the fact that you wanted him to meet your parents. That’s how he knew you were serious about your relationship with him and he loved how fondly you spoke of your parents.

“Okay, remember, don’t be nervous. They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” You knew these situations could be nerve wracking, but you were confident.

Changbin was a good guy and anyone would be a fool to not see that. Changbin winked at you, just as confident. “I’m not nervous.”

During dinner with your parents, mainly conversing in a language he didn’t understand, everyone relied on you to translate each conversation word for word. Changbin felt himself falling for you even more, impressed at how well you kept up without getting mixed up.

“How did you two meet?” Your mom asked curiously, waiting for you to relay the question. When you did, Changbin’s face lit up.

He started to ramble on about how you two met, where, and when. Your parents followed along, but not understanding a single word. When he paused, you translated in a summary, knowing he said too much for you to try and repeat everything word for word.

“You both did a great job. I would have never met my soulmate if not for you both.” Changbin added, reaching for your hand. “I want to spend the rest of my life with y/n.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that.

“Are you going to tell us what he said?” Your mom whispered. Changbin looked at you, waiting for you to translate as well.

“He, um…” you started but your cheeks heated up.

“Come on, don’t mumble.” Your dad spoke up. You were nervous to repeat what Changbin said.

“He said you did a great job with me.” You started. Your parents waited, knowing there was more.

“And?”

“He wants to… spend the rest of his life with me.” You couldn’t control your smile, getting shy as your parents chuckled.

“Aw, nervous?” Changbin smirked, teasing you.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin helped your mom set the table for dinner, carefully listening to her instructions in a language he didn’t know.

“Bring me the plates, please.” Your mom asked, preoccupied with fixing the table cloth.

Hyunjin scanned the situation for any clues on what to get before seeing her finger pointing at the cupboard.

“Oh, plates!” He muttered to himself, quickly getting the plates and bring them to her. Your mom thanked him as he helped lay out the plates.

“Mom, dad wants to know if you need anything from the store.” You walked in. Hyunjin felt grateful you arrived when you did. He liked your mom and how kind she was to him, but he felt embarrassed despite not understanding the language she spoke.

“Nope. I have everything,” she shook her head. She looked over at Hyunjin and smiled, “your boyfriend seems to be catching on quick. He’s been a big help.”

“He’s very sweet.” You agreed, giving him a discreet thumbs up to let him know she was saying good things about him.

Your mom rolled her eyes playfully at the cheesiness of your reply.

“Help us cook if you’re not going with your father.”

You looked at Hyunjin and nodded towards the kitchen counter where all the ingredients lay.

“We get to help cook. Ready?” You asked. Your mom looked up from what she was doing when you switched languages but didn’t say anything.

“Yes! But please… help me.” Hyunjin sheepishly grinned.

Han

You knew when Jisung would meet your parents, it would be up to you to carry the conversation. He had been nervous and thinking about every possible outcome meeting them could bring ever since you mentioned wanting him to meet them.

“I promise you, you’ll do fine.” You offered him some reassurance. That didn’t help too much given the fact they spoke a different language.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Unless you’re a criminal, they’ll like you. I like you, don’t I?” You offered a smile, putting your hand on his shoulder.

Jisung took a deep breath and tried to relax before he met your parents. When they arrived to your apartment, they both gave you a hug and greeted you in their language before their eyes fell on a nervous Jisung.

“Hello.” Jisung bowed, his shyness showing through. You took his hand in yours and rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand as your parents gave him a polite smile in return.

“Hello, Jisung.” Your mom smiled. Jisung was taken aback by the usage of his name.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She switched back to the language she knew.

“Mom…” You feigned a groan, trying to hide your smile. She ignored your groan and stepped closer to Jisung as your dad continued to eye him.

“He’s cute. Are you sure he can handle you?” Your mom joked. You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms. “Please. I’m an angel.”

Jisung listened, unaware of what was being said and occasionally meeting your dads unrelenting gaze. He eventually let up, holding his hand out towards Jisung.

“Nice to meet you. You better take care of y/n. That’s not negotiable.” He firmly shook Jisung’s hand. Jisung was about to nod, but didn’t know if it were appropriate. He looked at you, “what did he say?”

You squeezed his hand gently, “he said it’s nice to meet you and to take care of me.”

Jisung allowed himself to nod, “I will!”

“He said he will.” You relayed the message to your dad, who stared Jisung down for a few seconds more before letting go of his hand.

Felix

The night before Felix met your parents, he had bought a phrasebook to study so he didn’t have to rely on you to translate everything. You saw him glued to the book, his eyes scanning every word and phrase.

“How do I pronounce this?” Felix asked, reading out the word, ‘Fish’. You laughed a little, joining him and taking the book from him.

“You said it correctly.” You smiled, then added, “you won’t need to use the word, ‘fish’. Trust me.”

“I know, but I want to speak to them without looking to you the entire time.” Felix rubbed his tired eyes. You smiled at his dedication to communicate with your parents.

“Let me help you then. What all do you know?” You asked, looking at the book. Felix thought for a moment.

“Hello.” He switched languages. “Goodbye. Nice to meet you, my name is Felix… Fish. Can I use the bathroom?”

He paused, glancing at the phrasebook in your hands, “I love you.”

You felt your stomach do flips hearing him saying that. It was one thing for him to say in Korean or English, but in your mother tongue? You couldn’t help but blush.

“Goodnight.” He looked at the time. You were still whipped over the way he sounded saying ‘I love you’.

Despite not knowing much, Felix seemed to hold small talk pretty well, even if you had to whisper to him occasionally what the correct way to answer your parents questions were.

“Can I use the bathroom?” Felix asked suddenly, his ulterior motive was to excuse himself to read more phrases from the small book he had hidden away in his back pocket.

After a few minutes, he came back and proudly said, “the food is delicious.”

You exhaled sharply as Felix sat back down at the dinner table, unaware of how weird his statement sounded after ‘using the bathroom’.

Your dad laughed, luckily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Felix smiled, a bit confused at why he laughed.

Seungmin

He wanted to leave a good impression on your parents so they’d like him and accept him into your family, even if you told him many times before that he’d be apart of your family regardless.

You and Seungmin were meeting your parents in a restaurant that you reserved a table for.

Meeting in front of the entrance, Seungmin repeated the foreign phrases he’d practiced in his head before your parents got within speaking distance.

You greeted your parents with a hug while Seungmin bowed and smiled kindly.

“Hello. My favorite is Seungmin.” Seungmin attempted to introduce himself to your parents. They gave him a strange look, instantly letting him know he didn’t say the phrase right.

“What did I say?” He leaned over to whisper to you, heart thumping in his chest. You found his small mistake to be cute, “you said your favorite is Seungmin.”

Seungmin widened his eyes, “ah, no! I mean— What’s the word for name?”

“My name is…” You spoke slowly, allowing him to follow along.

“My name is Seungmin.” He corrected himself, feeling the embarrassment seeping in. Your parents both understood his first greeting was a mistake, laughing it off.

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Your dad was still lightly chuckling from his mistake. Seungmin only understood the first part, being one of the phrases he learned.

“Nice to meet you too!” Seungmin hoped he said that correctly. Your parents walked into the restaurant together, leaving you and Seungmin to follow behind.

“Did I say that right?” Seungmin looked for reassurance that he hadn’t completely ruined his chance of leaving a good impression. You knew this, nodding.

“You did great. You’re trying. My parents like effort, so just be yourself and if you have any trouble, I will be by your side.” You reassured him.

Seungmin felt a weight lift off his shoulders, attempting to relax as you two met your parents at the table.

I.N

“I can’t wait to meet the people that brought you into this world!” Jeongin was looking forward to meeting your parents. Even if he did have underlying nervousness.

You watched as he picked out an outfit. He left to the bathroom to change and came back a minute later.

“Do I look good?” the foreign word rolled off his tongue. He did a few poses, smiling wider each time.

“You look very good.” You got up from his bed and walked over to him, smoothing out any wrinkles he had on his shirt with your hand. Jeongin let you, his heart racing more from your touch.

“Will your parents think I look good?” Jeongin grinned. You took a step back and tried to think in the perspective of your parents.

“As long as you don’t look like you dressed yourself in the dark, maybe.” You answered, “but I think you look very good. So don’t worry too much about appearances.”

Jeongin’s underlying nervousness came to surface the closer you got to your parents house. Your mom was waiting outside for you, waving at the two of you.

Jeongin grinned, waving back. “Hello!”

“Jeongin?” Your mom asked, tilting her head towards you to make sure she got the name right. You gave her a thumbs up as Jeongin bowed to her, “I am Jeongin.”

“Hello! You seem very happy.” Your mom smiled. You glanced over at your boyfriend, “he is.”

“Good. I can’t take another frown.” Your mom motioned for you two to join her inside.

“What did she say? Does she like my outfit?” Jeongin asked in a hushed voice. You laughed, “no. She pretty much said hello and that she’s glad that you seem happy.”

Jeongin thought about your answer before accepting it, feeling like it was a good thing. “Nice.”

Jeongin entered your parents house after you did and made sure to close the front door.

“Can you tell your parents they have a nice house?” Jeongin asked, marveling at the decoration and how everything was set up. You were used to seeing it that you never really saw how everything was set up. But Jeongin seemed excited to be here and you were happy that he wasn’t a nervous wreck— so far, so you complied and got your parents attention.

“Jeongin likes your house.” You nodded at Jeongin, who smiled on cue when your parents thanked him.

“I like his outfit.” Your mom returned the compliment, to which you raised your eyebrows in surprise that she noticed. Happily, you turned back to Jeongin.

“Now she said she likes your outfit.”

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz scenarios #skz headcanons #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons

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scuderiasundays · 8 months

Text

dancing queen

summary: post-breakup reeling, a lizzy mcalpine cover, and flashbacks to slow dancing in the kitchen 💌

words: 618

a/n: this idea popped into my head on my commute and i just had to write it! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When fatigue set in after a long day, the kitchen was your retreat. Although your body longed to collapse onto the couch the minute you walked through the door, the 2-for-1 avocados in the shop window had caught your eye. Your tense shoulders relaxed as you began to sauté some onions to go along with the avocados and some leftover salmon. The very act of cooking had fascinated you since childhood, the way the ingredients could start off one way and completely metamorphose at your hand.

As summer slowly ebbed towards its end, you found yourself reflecting on the year's pace – swift in its early months and achingly slow as of late. You turned to Siri, your trusty confidante, hoping to dial down the lights and prevent yourself from spiraling. She clearly didn’t get the memo as you began to hear the faint strumming of a guitar.

The truth is your world had been on mute since the breakup. Those who knew you well enough understood just how deeply you connected with music. In fact, your love for it was so profound that your girlfriends would frequently enlist your expertise when crafting playlists for various occasions, be it a night out on the town or navigating the rough waters of a midlife crisis.

The smallest smile crept onto your lips as you marveled at the irony of fate. Out of all the songs in the world Siri could have chosen, it just had to be the one you least desired to hear. In an instant, you found yourself transported to a memory of a night spent cooking alongside Carlos. Ever the optimist, it was he who had come up with the idea of making fresh pasta from scratch. The tasks were evenly divided between you two; you were in charge of prep and crafting the pasta, while Carlos was committed to whipping up his signature carbonara and doing the dishes.

"Are you absolutely sure you can't get a head start on the sauce?" you'd playfully inquired while Carlos settled onto a barstool opposite you.

"I quite enjoy watching you work your magic. I feel like Gordon Ramsay," he chuckled, inching closer. He reached for two slices of focaccia from the kitchen counter and placed them on either side of your head.

"What are you?" he quizzed, reenacting an iconic scene from one of the British chef's shows.

Without hesitation, you replied, "An idiot sandwich." Carlos burst into laughter. "That you are, mi amor, but you're my idiot sandwich."

The night wouldn't have been complete without a soundtrack, as the speakers hummed to life. "This one's my absolute favorite," you declared as a Lizzy McAlpine cover of "Dancing Queen" filled the air.

Carlos chimed in, "This is that ABBA song, no?" You nodded in agreement. The tempo was just right, and he extended his hand, a devilish smile gracing his lips.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, and just like that, he was spinning you around the kitchen, all while completely butchering the lyrics.

In his warm embrace, you couldn't help but let the dreamlike feeling wash over you. How could any of this be real? The fact that he had chosen you, that everything between you two felt so blissfully effortless—it was almost too good to be true.

A few months later, you were faced with the unsparing truth that your whirlwind romance had been nothing more than a fleeting, beautiful illusion. The worst part was he hadn't given you enough time or reason to truly fall out of love. The sting lingered, and as you crumbled to the kitchen floor, you could only hold onto the hope that time might one day dull the ache.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz angst

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spiritofdragonfire · 2 months

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If I existed in this book series, I believe I would be chosen by a Blue Morningstartail (I came to this conclusion by taking several online quizzes and using a TikTok filter lol). I was ecstatic to receive this particular dragon, because being a Blue Morningstartail means they are basically a perfect combination of both Sgaeyl and Tairn!

I imagine them to be a large male, bigger than Sgaeyl but smaller than Tairn, with gorgeous, vibrant blue scales that would resemble sapphire gemstones. I think the perfect name for him would be Saphir, which means "Sapphire" in Scottish Gaelic.

After getting my result, my mom and my sister also wanted to find out what kind of dragons they would have. Turns out my mom would be chosen by a Black Swordtail (just like General Melgren's dragon, Codagh) and my sister would be chosen by a Red Morningstartail.

I find both of their results quite interesting, especially my sister's. It's funny because we both got Morningstartails, but my favorite color is red, while hers is blue. So we ended up each getting a dragon that was the other's favorite color. What kind of dragon do you think would choose you?

#the empyrean #empyrean series #fourth wing #iron flame #dragons #dragon riders #blue dragon rider #blue morningstartail #blue dragon #black dragon #black swordtail #red dragon #red morningstartail #tairn #tairneanach #sgaeyl #andarna #andarnaurram

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pixelnrd · 9 months

Text

That summer, River travelled to San Sequoia to meet April's family. He was quite nervous as they walked up the driveway to the large classic family home. It was the kind of house he had seen in tv shows depicting the average happy family - totally different from the house he grew up in down in Sulani. He worried about how he would come across to her parents.

'Don't worry, they'll love you!' said April as she escorted him inside. 'Dad can be a bit intense, but my Mom is nice to everyone. You'll be fine!'

Inside River shook April's father's hand and did his best to seem mature and put-together. Carlos was a very serious-looking man with a firm handshake. He invited River into his home and they all sat down in the loungeroom. It was such a 'normal' home, River thought. April's parents were like a classic tv mom-and-dad.

The interrogation began as April's parents asked River questions about himself - where he grew up and went to school, what he was studying at college. River tried to downplay his hippy roots, telling them he grew up near the beach, that he got a scholarship to college on merit, not just disadvantage.

When he told them that he was majoring in computer science, Carlos raised his eyebrows and said to River 'what are the career prospects in computers?'. River felt self-conscious, trying to justify his chosen pathway with more than just his personal love of computers.

'Daddy is a stockbroker,' explained April, staring down her father for quizzing her boyfriend.

'You should switch to economics, son,' said Carlos. 'With a science and maths brain, you'd do well. And there are great opportunities in the financial world - I could let you in on a few through my own contacts, you know.'

River was overwhelmed, but here was the father of his girlfriend offering to help him with his post-college career. Maybe he would change majors... maybe then he could have the kind of home and life that April had grown up with.

#sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #the langston legacy #1980s #river lenowski

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a-sip-of-milo · 6 months

Note

Do you have any advice on how to stop self harming for anyone?

I have a few different tactics that I personally use.

I use an app called Calm Harm. It gives options for distractions, comfort, ways to express yourself, ways to release the emotions you're feeling and other random activities. It describes what you're doing when you're using these techniques as 'riding the wave'. Also has ways to self monitor, different breathing activities and a streak function if that sort of thing helps.

Abdominal breathing. It helps immensely with anxiety and calming the body down. If you click the link, it'll tell you everything you need to know and give you a visual tutorial on how to do it. My previous psychologist asked me to do it for five minutes every day, six times a day until our next appointment. I was in denial at the time, but it helped so much. The best part is that you can do it anywhere.

There's another app that I use called Finch. You're essentially raising a baby bird by doing self care tasks. Every task is worth a certain amount of energy points, and if you get enough energy it'll go on an adventure and come back with new discoveries. You can also decorate its room, choose its pronouns/name and have daily conversations with it that grows its personality. There's also regular check-ins on your mood, and if you're not feeling great, it has a first-aid kit with things to help during a panic attack or when you you're feeling the need to self harm. (I love that it's got so many activities to do, quizzes to complete, ways to reflect and goal ideas)

The urge to self harm for me comes when I'm feeling out of control of my body, my emotions and the things around me. So, to combat that, I do things to prove to myself that I've made that choice. I've chosen to rearrange my room. I've chosen to take a shower. I've chosen to go on a walk. I've chosen to grab out a board game or go window shopping online. By acknowledging that you've consciously made this decision, it helps to reassure yourself that there will always be something you can control.

If you're doing it for the pain, I recommend getting a rubber band and using it to flick your wrist, or find some other way of inflicting pain without it leaving permanent marks.

I also do it for the visual affect, which I will fix by tracing over my faded scars with a pen or creating intricate patterns on my body until I've forgotten about what I originally wanted to do. There's also a web page called Fatal To the Flesh, where you're essentially cutting up a white screen and blood drips out of the cuts.

Similarly, there's a web page called You Feel Like Shit, where it helps you to identify what's going on by listing off a heap of self-care tasks you may or may not have done and asks you if you've completed them recently. I'm very forgetful when it comes to self-care, and this helps me to remind myself that there's things I can do to make things better.

Hope this helps, my friend:)

#ask #tw self harm mention #tw self harm #self care #npd safe #aspd safe #hpd safe #bpd safe #cluster b safe

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honourablejester · 1 year

Text

One of the things that fascinates me, thematically, about wizards in D&D is the consciousness of their interactions with magic. They learn their craft by study, by conscious thought. And they choose their school, too, by conscious thought. When you make a wizard, you choose what elements of magic they choose to prioritise. What draws them, what repels them, what do they rely on, what do they seek out. The choice of school is as much a characterisation detail as anything else. It’s not just a case of learning spells by rote out of a book (well, no, it can be, but that’s probably a discussion in and of itself). Wizards are the class where you can dig in and get nerdy. There’s magical theory up in this joint.

The eight schools in themselves are also an interest mesh of themes and rationalisations, and that makes sense from a Doylist perspectives, because the game designers are choosing schools and effects outside the game, but it also works from a Watsonian perspective, because these are in-universe classifications based on what wizards assume is how magic works. All the spells are tied to a school, and thus the eight-school classification system, even if there are wizards who aren’t. And with any system of classification, there are arguments. Which is, of course, the fun of it.

So. With that in mind. Eight schools. Abjuration. Conjuration. Divination. Enchantment. Evocation. Illusion. Necromancy. Transmutation. Some essay questions slash thought experiments slash personality quizzes for student wizards in a D&D world, focusing on the classification of magic:

If you were choosing (or have chosen) a school of magic to specialise in, what would it be?

What do you think is the overriding purpose of your school of magic?

What element of your school of magic excites you the most?

What is one common derogatory misconception about your school that makes you angry?

What’s one spell of your school that you think should belong to another school? Explain your reasoning.

What’s one spell of a different school that you think should belong to yours? Explain your reasoning.

What would you consider the school of magic most diametrically opposed to your own? Explain your reasoning.

What would you consider the school of magic most similar to your own? Explain your reasoning.

Name one area of overlap or potential overlap between your school of magic and each of the other seven.

Name one area of conflict or potential conflict between your school and each of the other seven.

Which other school of magic would you consider it necessary of have a good understanding of in order to better study your own?

If you were grouping the eight schools into subgroups, what would the groups be, which schools would they include, and why?

Do you consider the purpose of magic to be useful or to be extraordinary? Which schools do you think best match each outlook?

What do you consider the primary ethical concerns with your school of magic? What would you consider the primary ethical concerns with each of the other schools?

Which school of magic do you find most difficult or unpleasant to work with? Why?

Which school of magic do you find easiest and most reassuring to work with? Why?

What is one question about the workings of each school of magic that keeps you up at night?

Do you think that magic should be divided into schools at all? If you think that it should, do you think that the eight schools currently agreed upon are the most accurate choices, or do you believe that they should be rearranged or replaced?

Do you believe that rigid classification aids or hinders the understanding of magic as a whole? Explain your reasoning.

Do you think that a spell should be considered part of a school of magic based on its effect, or based on the methods or rationale that created it, or based on some other criteria?

Is there a school of magic that you considered to be particularly badly defined? Is there a school that you consider particularly well defined? Do you consider this a clarifying factor or a limiting one?

Which school of magic do you most want to disassemble to base parts and understand the workings of? Is this the same school you are happiest using, or a different one?

What is your favourite spell that you have learned of? Is that spell of your own school or a different one?

What is one spell of your least liked school of magic that you consider worthwhile, and why?

What is one spell that you think should never have been invented, and why?

And, finally, just for fun and so everyone knows where we all stand: which school of magic do you find the adherents of most annoying? Not necessarily the school you think shouldn’t exist, but the one where when you meet a wizard of that school, you kneejerk want to punch them in the face, just because?

#d&d #wizards #schools of magic #the eight schools #magical theory #essay questions to get asked in wizard college #i'm having a surprising amount of thoughts on conjuration

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 year

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❝ Line of Sight ❞

poly!Billy Loomis & Stu Macher X easily distracted!reader | fluff | graphic descriptions of violence

Billy and Stu adore their boyfriend, so they keep an eye on him due to the fact that he has this odd but adorable tendency to get...distracted.

#1, PURPLE FLOWERS "D'you believe in past lives?" Billy paused his rummaging and from behind his locker door he peered at his boyfriend, Stu, who was leaning on the row of lockers beside Billy's. "What type of question is that? Ya' been smoking pot again?" his arms, already sore from last night's activities, pinched as he added the weight of the AP Biology textbook among the binders full of notes. He readjusted his grip, shutting the locker as Stu jerked his chin across the hall. Bumping their shoulders together as he mimicked Stu's pose, Billy's gaze followed Stu's to the windows that lead to the school's front yard. There (Y/N) was, knees tucked under him and backpack forgotten by his side with his face in gentle awe at the flowers that had grown near one of the trees. That would explain why you weren't in the hallways like your boyfriends were. You probably were on your way but caught a glimpse of those purple petals and simply could not resist yourself. "I'm guessing that in his past life, he was a puppy" Stu chuckled. "Small attention span, ya' know? Gnawing on your ankles, trippin' over his widdle paws" Billy cocked a brow, a lopsided grin climbing his face at Stu's curled hands swiping at the air - like a puppy, he says. Billy thinks he looks like a lanky mantis shrimp. "Does he know classes are about to start?" he asked and Stu laughed. "S'he look like he does? Come on, let's collect our puppy and send him on his way" he all but cooed. The taller of the two shouldered open the school doors, wincing as he'd inadvertently put pressure on a cut he'd received - also from last night's endeavours. "What d'you think I was in my past life, Billy boy?" he let the question linger in the air as they came up behind (Y/N), who was none the wiser. He never got his answer, not that he minded, because (Y/N) had turned his attention to the murderous duo with a blinding smile that made the sun burn with jealousy as the winds ushered the clouds away like show curtains - it still paled in comparison to (Y/N)’s beauty.

“Classes are about to start” Billy put his back to the tree whilst Stu plopped himself next to (Y/N). “I know” bemoaned (Y/N) “but I saw these and they just reminded me of you two” he presented them with a mice-sized bouquet of fragile, dusty purple flowers with a deep vinyl colour in the centre, and meekly twirled it between his thumb and pointer fingers.

“We aren’t pretty like some dainty flower” Stu plucked it from (Y/N)’s hold, its petals tickling his boyfriend’s cheek as Stu tucked it by his ear. “But I am?” (Y/N) mused, squinting his eyes at Stu. Billy’s touch, which had always been cold, sent shivers as he placed his hand on (Y/N)’s head; “The prettiest little devil we’ve ever met”

The bell rang but the three boys stayed ever so enamoured with each other, more and more flowers decorating each other.

Everyone paid no mind as purple flowers kept falling from (Y/N) as he moved from class to class - though the nickname flower boy persisted for a few weeks despite how uncreative it was. (Y/N)’s boyfriends thought it was cute.

#2, COOL ROCK

In all honesty, Stu wondered why Billy had chosen this location as a date. He constitutes eating with a good movie, cuddling, making-out, and maybe some bed shaking sex as a good date not taking a walk through the Woodsboro woods.

But, it was nice.

The tests and quizzes…thank fuck this would be the final test for a good while before university rolls in. Well, that is if he aces it.

“Baby” he snaps out from his reveries and turns to see (E/C) coloured eyes with their eyebrows sloped in concern. “You went quiet, everything okay?” Billy halts from ahead, hands shoved in his pockets as he wonders why the two had lagged.

“Yeah, yeah” Stu’s rubs the back of his head and his shoulders droop as (Y/N)’s fingers slip in his hands.

“What’s up?” Billy inquired once they caught up. (Y/N) shakes his head, telling him not to worry too much as he reaches to hold Billy’s hands as well. “He thought he heard something” he soothed them both by rubbing his thumb over their lightly bruised knuckles. “Yeah?” Billy didn’t sound convinced and (Y/N) pursed his lips at him as they made eye-contact.

“Yeah, wolf or something…” Stu continued which made Billy eye him then glance around unsurely. (Y/N) snorted, rolling his eyes. People assumed Billy was the cool headed, suave, Cassanova. Which, to his credit, he was...sometimes. Meanwhile, people assume Stu was the airheaded, frantic, hyperactive comedy relief of your relationship.

They did not know how romantic Stu was, or how smart he was. His extrovertedness along with his bubbly attitude was often mistaken as some sort of weakness - if only they knew how terrifying it was how closely intergrated Ghostface was in Stu’s very soul.

How for Billy, he can hang the robe and mask in the closet. Despite how it peers from the darkness, creaks it open and makes the walls shake from its breathing when it demanded attention.

Stu? The line between him and the mask was a blurred line in the sand that he barely notices. He is Ghostface, with or without the mask.

He’s like…he’s like a…an…a…

There was a twinkle from the corner of (Y/N)’s eyes.

Your boyfriend’s were debating the existence of a wolf and mountain lion hybrid when you spotted the glimmering ‘gem’.

“After this, we’re getting something nice and warm, right?” Stu batted his lashes and Billy nodded, not quite registering the loss of weight and warmth from his left hand as he peeked at the treetops. “Yeah, might be good, it’s getting pretty cold lately” Stu allowed the satisfying crunches of the dead leaves on the forest floor to distract him from (Y/N)’s hand slipping away.

That and Stu’s anxiety of the uncertain future with Billy simultaneously unsure of how to bring the topic up himself. Thankfully, Stu unknowingly made a segway to the conversation for the perfect opening.

“Why’d you even drag us out here, Billy?” Stu whined, kicking a stick out of the way. Billy paused, sighing a bit and moving to bump their shoulders.

“You looked like you were about to damn near cry while staring at your textbook and my head was about to explode anyways, so was our (Y/N)’s. I figured a walk in the woods would help us” Stu realizes that it was more for him because Billy had been silently skimming through some English assignment while (Y/N) had been half-asleep on Stu’s bed. He pressed a kiss to Billy’s jaw, effectively making them pause as he fully held Billy’s face in his hands to kiss him.

He mumbled (Y/N)’s name into the kiss while the corners of his mouth lifting as he grasped Stu’ waist; “(Y/N) also promised me I’d get some kisses from both of my boys if I did as I was asked, he suggested it…” Stu wondered why he stopped midsentence but then he looked around, blood going cold as all he saw was trees and more trees.

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Stu called, interlacing his fingers with Billy as they called out for you. They weren’t too worried about scouring the woods for you as they dredge through here at night often - to evade curious eyes as they carried their equipment around - along with the fact that you couldn’t have possibly been that far.

“(Y/N), come on! Where are you, doll?” Billy called out, retracing their steps down the path as they attempted to spot their darling boyfriend.

“I’m here!” a voice came from behind an overturned tree, the two raced over and blinked owlishly as (Y/N) held up his palm to show them -

“A rock?” Billy brushed his bangs back, holding it in his hand as he turned it around. He even held it up to catch the light, it twinkled shyly under (Y/N)’s lovers gaze.

“It’s a pretty rock! It’s shiny!” he defended as he rose from his knees, dusting the dirt away from his (insert bottom attire).

“You seriously let go of our hands for a rock, baby?” (Y/N) pouted as Stu pulled him into his side, pressing a kiss to his temple all while Billy continued to inspect the rock. “Hey, quit it! I’ve never seen a rock as shiny as that, okay” he huffed, reaching for it while Billy evaded his attempts.

“No, no, answer his question” Billy ‘frowned’ and Stu giggled, “A rock over us?”

“You guys are assholes!” (Y/N) exclaimed making his boyfriends laugh with complete glee.

The shiny rock stayed on Stu’s desk, googly eyes glued on as it weighed down a note that read;

Don’t lose your head over the small stuff. You’ve got this, baby. We love you - (Y/N) + Billy ♡

#3, SHINY KEYS?

In all fairness, (Y/N) thought it was lovely how his boyfriends insist on either one of them holding his hand or both at the same time. But surely, they must not think he was that helpless. Call him crazy but clammy hands was not a cute thing to feel despite how nice of a gesture it was to be holding hands. He’d slipped away a few times, only a few! Nothing bad happened. If anything, most of the time, (Y/N) came back with trinkets!

Well, there was that one time when Stu was hosting a party to let loose and some guy’s cousin from a neighbouring high school had shoot his shot which ended with him getting practically beheaded with a hunting knife by two annoyed Ghostface’s a week or so later.

But, (Y/N) was completely fine!

“I am not that bad” he retorted for the fourth time and Billy simply squeezed their hand and kissed his temple.

“Don’t be a big baby about it”

“Yeah, you saying ya’ don’t like holding hands?” Stu swings their arms together and (Y/N)’s mouth twitches as he fights the urge to smile. “M’not a big baby, I’m a grown man!” a few heads turned towards the trio as they made their way down the street. “Yeah, because grown men yell that they’re grown men” Billy grunted as he was elbowed. “I will castrate you” (Y/N) hissed, “You like my dick too much to do that” he braced himself for another elbow but Stu’s gasp saved him from the wrath of his boyfriend.

“Dude, they opened up an ice cream and waffle place!” Stu tugged his boyfriends across the street, (Y/N) yelping as frantically made sure they weren’t going to become the first hand-holding trio to end up in the ER as some sort of human pretzel’s.

“Jesus, didn’t take long to replace that shitty old man’s shop” Billy muttered with a cruel smirk. The butcher who used to own the shop lot had been a mean asshole who often sold even older cuts of meat for a hefty price. He’d brag his family had practically been the first butchers in Woodsboro and how it was a piece of the town’s history when one bought his product.

You’d think with that as a selling point more people would’ve mourned when he ended up as a corpse, bled-out and hanging from the hook in some pig farmer’s barn. The brutality certaintly shocked everyone but the funeral service held for him had been a dreary affair, with only a handful of people.

“His kid sold it” (Y/N) said as he looked at the menu on the chalkboard sign propped next to the door, “Heard from his grandkid, ya’ know Brandon from theatre?” Billy nodded “Yeah, well, his grandpa was in debt so Brandon’s father decided to sell it”.

“Brandon is related to that geriatric bag of bones?” Stu laughed, clutching his stomach. His boyfriends joined. Well, to be far, the guy was the nicest person you could possibly meet so it was a jarring surprise to know he is related to such a grumpy man.

“Think we did him a favour” Billy curled an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder with his other placed on his hip. “When Christmas rolls around, I’m betting he’ll get some extra shit out of pity” he continued while Stu moved forward to peek inside the store.

A few familiar faces stuck out to him, they waved in recognition and he glanced at Billy and (Y/N) to gesture for them to head in. Shrrugging, they went along. Stu was the most extroverted - a natural people’s person. It wasn’t unusual for him to be pulled aside to chat with someone. Neither Billy nor (Y/N) minded, especially in this case seeing as they could squeeze in some dessert.

A group of people walked towards the entrance as the three walked in, a gasp of Stu’s name making traffic stop.

Truth be told, Billy had thought he had him leashed to him by his hand alone but by the time the group of school mates had passed through the threshold, he was not there.

Cue the usual song and dance of the lovers heads swivelling and eyes darting to catch a glimpse of (Y/N).

Stu motioned for his friends to wait as he stepped out fully and called out (Y/N)’s name.

“Stu, I’m here!” came the sheepish reply, there he stood in front of a neighbouring store. Their shoulders sagged in relief, lips pursed endearingly as they walked to stand on either side of him.

It was an antique store. Billy swore he could smell it through the display glass, the dust and nostalgia of all sorts of trinkets that were once loved. (Y/N) lifted his hand and pointed to a clever showcase of keys on a string that decorated the top left and rights of the display window. Big, old and clunky but swaying ever so slightly from th ventilation within the store.

They twinkled under the light.

“Puppy,” Stu snickered which earned a head tilt from (Y/N) - it further cemented his claim.

#4, PIZZA

They did it. They fucking did it. They graduated. What better way to celebrate then a date at the new mall?

Stu had outdone his usual parties with the one he had thrown just a few days ago - the three of you were still finding confetti in all sorts of corners in Stu’s house - it was a real Gatsby. Even Billy had found himself dancing in the crowd, feverishly and unabashedly squeezing (Y/N) between Stu and himself.

Now, with that done and over with, it was time for a more private celebration.

(Y/N)’s boyfriends were keeping him in the centre, Stu’s hand around his waist while Billy held a few bags of dorm essentials. Last-minute shopping squeezed into a date, it was usual with the boy’s hectic life and double life.

“That movie sucked” Stu said, “fake blood never looked faker”. (Y/N) rolled his eyes, placing his head on Stu’s shoulder.

“Not everyone’s a murder and horror movie expert, Mr Ghostface” Stu narrowed his eyes at (Y/N)’s teasing tone, grip tightening. He knew what that particular nickname did to his lovers. Billy’s stomach grumbling made their eyes shoot towards his warm face.

“Hungry, baby?” (Y/N) received a sigh and nod. They continued walking as they wondered what they should eat. This mall was huge, and all sorts of restaurants were squeezed into every corner. But that was not where the problem lay.

“Why the fuck would I eat raw fish?” Stu scoffed “We might as well hit the pet store and ate the goldfish”.

“A California roll isn’t as fucking stupid as Italian food made from some American red neck” Billy snapped “I’m the one that’s fucking hungry, I should choose”.

“Nah, no - (Y/N), you choose”

A pause, the escalator they were on continued it’s task of sending the two boys to the upper level with their lover nowhere to be seen.

Unlike the times before, however, calling out your name and retracing their steps did not work. For the first time, they felt cold sweat erupt as they shared a glance. Sure, no real harm could have come to (Y/N), and he was full and well capable of protecting himself. But he was also someone that had walked into a pole, thrice.

“(Y/N)” Billy called out as he and Stu reached the third floor of the mall, nearing the kid’s arcades and all when he finally spotted (Y/N)…

Talking to someone in a brown bear mascot that had a top hat, bow tie and microphone in one of his hands.

“(Y/N)!” he perked up as his boyfriends came into view and waved them over. The man who wore the suit narrowed his eyes at the two, a flash of recognition in his eyes as they came by (Y/N)’s side.

“David, this is Billy and Stu, Billy and Stu, David” Billy paid little attention, just noticing the fact that one of the gloves David was supposed to wear was off and in his hand was a cell phone.

(Y/N)’s name typed down along with his number.

Stu slipped his hands around (Y/N)’s waist, slipping a hand up his shirt which he did little to react too - seemingly used to it.

David’s face fell, expression clear as day despite the shadows of the suit.

“He was talking about this deal they had!” (Y/N) chirped out, showing them the flyer with the establisments name written in a whimsical font.

FREDDY FAZBEAR’S GRAND OPENING!

“How’d you even find this place?” Billy took the flyer, feigning interest as he cocked a brow at David. Who, by the way, realized where he recognized (Y/N) from; he was the boyfriend of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher and he was untouchable.

“While you two were arguing I saw a flyer so I decided to scope around, didn’t think you’d mind considering how serious the discussion of spaghetti and sushi was” he mused, leaning against Billy as he passed the flyer to Stu who had not let his eyes leave the poor part-timer.

“And David…explained the deal?” Stu inquired and (Y/N) nodded “Yeah, we even exchanged our numbers so he’d get us the best seats in the house” he cooed and David shifted uncomfortably as (Y/N)’s boyfriends gazed at him with daggers in their eyes.

“Why the hell would we even eat a kids place with creepy animatronics?” Stu retorted “Let’s bounce, this is laaame”.

There was an edge in Stu’s voice. It often did when he decided to use this sharp-tongued persona - which rarely came out…unless he was particularly annoyed.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes but shrugged and gave David an apology as they eventually walked off to some sushi place.

—

“Woodsboro police department reports the dead body found within the suit of the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaeria mascot is identified to be David Perron. His body was found mutilated and stuffed within the mascot and dragged into the ball pit of the establishment. Authorities are saying this might be the work of the infamous serial killer, Ghostface -“

Stu turns the radio off, (Y/N) squealing as he bounced his knees - effectively making the boy in his lap jump and hold him tighter.

“Stu!” he laughed, the wind in his hair as Billy rested a hand on the back Stu’s headrest. The roof of Billy’s new convertible was down, letting the three lovers feel the blissful breeze and gentle warmth of the California sun.

“Bounce, bounce!” Stu cheered which made Billy peek at the two of them from over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Come on, baby, celebrate!”

“I’m not jumping on your lap in the car! Dumbass!” Stu was no deterred as giggles poured out of (Y/N)’s mouth, his lips attacking (Y/N)’s neck with tongue and teeth.

“The sweater looks better on the floor” Stu purred, hissing sharply as Billy tugged his hair back as he nonchalantly drove with one hand on the wheel. The sweater all three of them were wearing had the logo of the university they’d been accepted into and the one they were making their way towards.

“Billy” Stu whined, the wind muffling it as (Y/N) leaned to kiss Billy and shortly after, turned the radio on. Their favourite song blasted and the lovers rode off, cheering and whooping.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #had to squeeze in a small FNAF movie mention #slasher #slasher x slasher #male reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream 1996 #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #slashers fic #poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #gay reader

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