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the-ace-with-spades · 2 months

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(I adore fics where Johnny’s family loves Ghost from day one, but, you know…angst)

Soap and Ghost had been together for almost two years. They never name the relationship, really, but it's serious and they both know it.

Thing is, Johnny's seen Ghost's face a total of four times, counting Las Almas.

Well, he sees parts of it regularly, more than others. Ghost will either roll the balaclava up when they're reading together in bed or when they're eating. Sometimes, when Soap wants to go out and Ghost indulges him, he goes in public in just either a face mask or a gaiter and Soap can see his short wavy blonde hair sticking all over the place and

The four times he had seen Simon’s face in it’s whole — obviously, Las Almas; one time when he was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound and Johnny had to check; one time when they took a shower together, Simon stayed with his back toward him through most of it, but when they finished, he let Johnny dry off his hair; one time, when Johnny asked him to see him for his birthday presents, a few minutes after midnight.

Johnny wasn’t sure why exactly Simon didn’t want to show him his face. It wasn’t a trust thing — he trusted Johnny with more than his own life — and it wasn’t like he was ugly — he was downright sinful. He never drilled the topic because he didn’t care, if SImon wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready, but if he had to guess, it was all to do with identity and being seen. No one knew his face — people could know his name, Simon “Ghost” Riley, but they wouldn’t know the man behind the mask. Wouldn’t know the people behind Simon “Ghost” Riley.

(Johnny wasn’t completely off on the assumption — Simon didn’t want anyone to know his face because faceless people weren’t missed. Faceless graves — like his own — didn’t have people to leave behind, and faceless soldiers didn’t have loved ones to find and he was both. No one could get hurt if he remained faceless. Or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself.)

And Johnny is okay with that — if Simon never showe him his face again, he’d still love him all the same. Johnny’s family? Not so much.

They’re supposed to be in Glasgow for five days total, leaving after Boxing Day. Johnny gives them all a warning, that Ghost is a bit shy and doesn’t like showing his face, he’ll most likely stay covered the whole time, he might be wearing a balaclava, or a mask, he probably won't eat at the table.

When they arrive at his parents house, it almost seems like everyone forgot. Like everyone thought it'd be more mild or that Johnny was exaggerating.

There are looks. There is silence. People can't stop staring.

His mam takes one look at Simon’s balaclava once they enter the living room and looks funny at them. “Ah thooght Ah tauld ye boays tae strip doon.”

“Mam, lea him alane,” he tries but he can tell that Simon is getting tense and his mam is getting tense.

His mam, who is usually the sweetest person ever, is uncharacteristically quiet and curt whenever Simon is around. Simon doesn't really know how to make it better — Johnny's never seen him so silent outside of stealth missions, he just stands there like a sore thumb, not making anything less awkward. He didn't expect him to — Simon's social skills are lacking and he loves him that way — but he expected his own family to not make such a big deal out of that mask.

His da is stern and silent, which is as disapproving as he gets. His sisters are a bit weirded out, but mostly focused on teasing Johnny, even making fun of the mask. With a stupid grin, his older sister asks, “Does he keep it oan in bed?”

Johnny doesn't say anything to that, even though his face feels red. His sisters stop laughing.

“He does?” When Johnny tries to step out of the room and avoid the conversation, his sister’s tone changes. “Hae ye e’en seen his face?”

“O’ coorse Ah hae,” he spits out. He doesn’t specify it was only four times — he doesn’t think it’d help. “And ‘s a bonnie ane, alricht.”

It doesn’t save the situation and his sisters are also weirded out and wary from then on.

The kids do not care — they ask maybe two questions, tilts their head as Simon explains and that’s it — and Johnny breathes a little easier as soon as his nieces push Simon outside to help them build a snowman.

The judgment doesn’t stop. Johnny’s blood boils any time it shows and even though Simon says it’s all fine, he can’t stop feeling angry about this. They just can’t get past the mask.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are difficult to Simon and Johnny knows it. He’s given him the option to omit the family dinner on both those days if he’s not feeling alright enough to spend those days in crowdy house filled with a flock of loud and cheery people of all ages.

Simon knows this. He also knows that if he says he wants to stay at Johnny’s flat for the time being, Johnny is going to insist he doesn’t have to go either, that he’d prefer to stay in with him and not go for the Christmas dinner. Which he also knows is bullshit — Johnny loves Christmas, loves spenidng time with his family, that was basically why he kept on insisting Simon couldn’t stay alone at the base for Christmas another year in a row. It was the main reason why he agreed to go with Johnny in the first place, he was pretty sure if he didn’t go with him, Johnny would insist he stays, too.

So Simon stays in for Christmas Eve — or rather goes to a pub while Soap spends the day with his parents — but insists they go to Christmas dinner.

His family is disappointed to see him there, to the point the usual manuevering around politeness and disapproving go onto a backburner.

“John said yer nae a fan o’ Christmas,” Johnny’s mum says to him pointedly.

“That’s right.”

“And yet ye’r ’ere,” she notes.

Johnny is far away from the earshot and he doesn’t want to lie to her so he admits, “If I didn’t come, Johnny would insist on keepin’ me company.”

“How come ye dinnae try to hae a bit mair cheer fur th' holidays then? Put a bit mair effort in for ma baby.”

Johnny notices and soon enough, he’s next to him, their arms brushing, Johnny’s hand on the small of his back. “Lea him alane, mam.”

“It’s fine,” he says even though it’s not fine. They deserve an explanation, even just to know what they son is getting himself into. “My family was murdered on Christmas Eve. I’m—I’m trying.”

The silence falls over the room — Johnny’s mum, dad, his sister, all present, not looking at them. Simon closes his eyes, tries to breathe.

Johnny rubs his back. “Let’s gae home.”

“I’m not ruining Christmas for you, Johnny,” he says. Before Johnny can deny it — and he knows he’d try — he tries to placate, “Let’s just have ourselves a minute to calm down.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice is perfectly levelled or the way his hand trembles as he squeezes Johnny’s, but he lets him leave the room.

He steps outside — to the backyard. Sits down on the step to the garden and lets the snow soak through his jeans and the top o his balaclava.

The kids come outside, tripping over Simon’s legs. They were all oblivious to the trails and errors of Simon’s integration into the family, so they approach him as always

“Whit's wrang?”

There’s just something so innocent in having a six-year-old girl covered from head to toe in pink and glitter worry about you. Simon would never admit it in front of Johnny, but he finds the accent cute.

Simon takes off the mask.

The kids all look at him and look at him, a bit unsure maybe a bit fearful — it can be a scary sight, he admits, the elongated, jagged smile that sticks to him no matter the mood, makes him more crazy than he already is — but only one of Johnny’s niece keeps her eyes on Simon’s face.

Shily, she asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replies. When she smiles, he smiles back.

Not anymore.

This is Johnny’s family. Simon can deny it all he wants, but Johnny’s seen him as family, as someone he’d leave behind, and it hadn’t been unrequited. He can’t hide behind a mask forever and maybe this was the kick he needed.

He steps back inside when his hands turn numb. He doesn’t put the mask back on.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Simon?”

Simon just—smiles. He can feel the scars pulling on the corners of his mouth, the stiffer skin, but he’s not faceless. He’s not been faceless for a while.

Edit (29/03/24): This is now a WIP for a minimum 15k fic, titled don't shoot me, santa, that will have 4 chapters and will be posted (hopefully) later in the year

#this is like a very shortened version with some points cropped out #maybe this will be a full-blown fic at some point #who knows? not me for sure #idk maybe closer to christmas or sth if i have inspiration #i headcanon soap speaks scots whenever he's home/speaking freely and softens the accent otherwise #i love glasgowian accents but im not good at writing them so #ghoap #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #call of duty #q #charlie writes #op

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shoddynomenclature · 3 months

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BG3: Reader is Kidnapped/Tortured

This one started as a Shadowheart oneshot, but I decided to expand it to include Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara as well.

Let me know your favorites! I’m looking to expand more of my stuff into one shots, so it’s good information to have!

Content Warning for torture (obviously)

Shadowheart

When the days adventuring party returns without you, her blood immediately runs cold. They didn’t just come back without and leave you out there right?

When they inform her that you’ve been taken by the cloister, her face goes pale.

It takes Karlach and Wyll on either side of her to get her eased down onto a bedroll and breathing regularly. You were gone.

And to make matters worse, Viconia DeVir had you in her grip. Even with her amnesia, she could recall just how cruel the woman was.

The party had made great strides in passively finding clues about the location of the House of Grief, but they were still yet to find it.

Finding it had now jumped from a passive priority to the single most important thing they could be doing.

Shadowheart spent most of that night weeping in frustration at her inability to remember. She had grown up there for gods sake. The past 40 years at least had been spent in that damned house.

In the end, it was actually Astarion who finally discovered the sanctuary’s location. It was decided that he and Shadowheart would be the two best suited to sneak in and retrieve you.

When they found you, you were lying on the house’s marble floor, chained up to rigs that came out of the ground. The chain around your neck only barely allowed you to sit up to look at your rescuers.

“Shadowheart? Shadowheart is that you?” You whispered into the dark room. You could only see two silhouettes, but the quaffed elven hair of Asterion and the pointy crown of Shadowheart gave it away.

You instinctively tried to rush towards her, only to be stopped by the strain of your restraints. It didn’t much matter though, because Shadowheart was at your side in a matter of seconds.

She stroke your cheek, paying special attention to cut that stretched across your face. She was quick to move around to other parts of your body, stopping to carefully examine each of your wounds. Your restraints left you unable to reach out to her in anyway.

“Shadowheart, please, you have to get out of here, now,” you nearly cry. “They’re looking for you.” Astarion joins the two of you on the ground, getting to work at picking the several locks that held you in place.

It takes her a moment to register what you were saying. Her first thought is an obvious refusal, she’s not going anywhere without you.

But then the implications of your words dawn on her. They took you because they couldn’t find her. All of this torture you’ve endured, you’ve done it to protect her.

“Please Shadowheart,” you beg. “I swear I didn’t tell them anything. You’ll be safe at camp, just please go.”

Her head spins with newly uncovered memories of the torture she inflicted before the Nautaloid. She remembers how the Sharrans go about getting information from people.

“Astarion, how are coming along on those locks?” she ignores your pleas in favor of getting you free. Your upper body is now free, but he seems to be having trouble with your ankles.

“Patience, darling,” he quips, nearly earning him a slap across the face from Shadowheart.

Within the minute the shackles drop from your ankles, leaving you free to stand up on shaking legs. Shadowheart gives you a quick healing spell before asking “do you think you can make it back?”

You nod, following her and Astarion back the way they came in.

You had never been more excited to see camp than you were in that moment. You laid down face first on the plush Elfsong mattress. You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and being tortured really took it out of you.

Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you. The fact that you laid down on your stomach did not bode well for the condition of your back.

She tugged gently at the hem of your shirt. “Arms up, love,” she cooed. You whined and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t want to show her what they had done.

“If you truly will not show me, I will get Jaheira to look after you,” she reasoned. “But, please, let me take care of you.” The second part was more a plea than anything.

Reluctantly, you lifted your arms and allowed her to pull the shirt over your head.

She did her best to remain stoic. She had seen endless wounds like this. She had inflicted endless wounds like this. But against her will, a sob choked its way up her throat.

The same back she had spent so many nights tracing and trailing with kisses was now so raw and bloodied, she wondered for a moment if you had any skin left.

She used every last bit of energy healing the wounds. By the time she was done she had exhausted herself too much to even make it back to her own bed.

She spent the night curled up around your legs, resting her head on your lower back. Viconia was going pay for what she’d done, she’d make sure of it.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel isn’t the usually the tactical planning type, but when you’re captured by Vlaakith’s army, she realizes this isn’t a kick-down-the-front-door type of mission.

This does not, however, make her any more patient during the planning process. The githyanki could have you floating halfway through astral plane by now.

Luckily, the gith as a whole aren’t known for their subtleties, so you’re not hard to track down.

Protection is thankfully slim enough that the party can pretty much strong arm their way to you.

When Lae’zel finds you are bound by some magical device that was, as loathe as she was to admit it, beyond her level of expertise.

You were at least conscious, which was truly remarkable given your condition. All your clothes were torn and bloodied, but the most concerning and blatant wound came for the side of your head.

Almost the entire left side of your face was completely covered in dried blood, all leading back to the gash on the side of your head that was once your left ear.

Lae’zel cursed, pointlessly kicking the arcane barrier.

You could see her shouting at Gale. Presumably she was impatiently rambling about freeing you, but you couldn’t make out what she was saying through the barrier.

All you saw was a long dagger that she pulled from her belt before storming off in the direction of your now dead captors.

Lae’zel was still gone when the party finally figured out how lower the barrier around you.

You stumbled out onto your knees and immediately found yourself surrounded by the party’s healers.

Lae’zel came stomping back moments later, carrying a small wooden bucket she didn’t have before. Likely she just found it somewhere around the gith camp.

She dropped the bucket at your feet without a word, leaving you to examine the contents for yourself.

You looked down into the bucket to find a dozen or so fleshy green ears.

You look back up at her, not sure whether to be honored or disgusted.

The smug look on her face let you know that this was certainly a gift she was proud of, so honored it is.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have plenty of choices when it comes to choosing my replacement.”

Karlach

Karlach really does try to be tactical most of the time, but you’ve been taken by none other than Lord Gortash himself.

And the idea that you are gone and she is here, at camp, while the others make a plan of how to rescue you? She can hardly contain herself.

She paces around camp, leaving a thick line of charred wood beneath her as she walks the same path over and over again.

Chewing her nails isn’t usually a nervous habit of hers but at this point she’s liable to chew her fingers off.

She logically knows it would do no good to come out guns blazing when you’re probably locked up behind the entirety of the steel watch, but worry and adrenaline nearly get ahead of her.

It is Shadowheart and Halsin who finally pull her from her thoughts. They have a plan, and much to Karlach’s relief it involves her. She was terrified they might agree upon a stealthier approach and ask her to stay behind.

She would have done it, if it were truly what was best for you. She might have burned up the entirety of the Elfsong Tavern by the time you finally got back though.

Luckily, since Karlach was mistaken by the steel watch as a defective watcher, she was actually best equipped to break in.

The plan, in whole, ran pretty smoothly. At least until the moment Karlach actually set eyes on you, bruised up and unconscious in the middle of a cell.

All bets were off after that. There was one thing that mattered and it was having you, safe with her again.

The minute it took Astarion to pick the lock was the longest of her entire life. She was nearly burning hot enough to melt through the bars herself.

The moment the door popped open, she was beside you, on her knees pulling you into her chest.

Shadowheart whisper-shouted behind her, reminding her to watch your neck and be gentle with your head. She carefully situated her large hand to cradle your head.

She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her own panicked heart. “Hey bub, it’s me. I came to rescue you. I… please wake up. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

When you didn’t ever stir, Karlach looked up at Halsin and Shadowheart, eyes brimming with tears and worry. “They aren’t waking up. Why aren’t they waking up?”

Halsin joined Karlach on the ground, leaning to put his head on your chest. “Their heart continues to beat and their lungs draw breath, but they are weak. We must get them to camp.”

There was an incredibly brief argument about who was best fit to carry you, given that your skin was already starting to redden from Karlach’s heat, but her bottom lip quivered at even the mention of you leaving her arms.

When they managed to get you back to the Elfsong, Karlach was reluctantly convinced to lay you down on your bed.

She winced when she saw the small burns starting to form on the side of your body she had held to her own. Your left cheek was already starting to blister. Maybe she should’ve let Halsin carry you after all.

The healers came by to try and figure what had happened to you. You had no visible injuries, aside from the minor burns, yet you were still unable to be stirred.

It was actually Minthara who suggested they may have inflicted mental torture rather than physical, similar to what was inflicted on her at Moonrise.

The idea made Karlach burst into uncontrolled sobs. “You think they may have been erased?!”

Minthara looked sympathetically down at Karlach, but didn’t have an answer for her.

The party collectively decided that the only thing they could do is wait and let you rest.

Afraid to burn you with the fire that courses through her veins, Karlach restrained herself from crawling into bed with you. Instead she knelt next to the bed, resting her head on the mattress and reaching up to stroke your body.

She couldn’t sleep at all that night, only stroke your burned cheek and cry softly into your mattress.

She started to talk to you, talking about all the things she’s like to do with you when all of this was over.

“Maybe we’ll get a little place in Lower City, next to the water so we can watch the sunsets with all the boats ‘n stuff floating out in the distance. Oh! And we can go on little picnics in Bloomridge Park, and feed our leftovers to all the stray cats and dogs. Oh who am I kidding we’re taking all of them home with us. We’re gonna have a whole farmhouse if you can’t stop me.”

When you finally do wake up, Karlach wraps her arms around in a hug so tight you nearly suffocate. She eventually settles to sit in your lap while you gently stroke her hair.

Gortash better start counting because his days are dangerously numbered.

Minthara

The moment Minthara finds out you’ve been taken by Orin, her heart nearly stops beating.

One moment it was you, the love of her life, standing before her. Then, through the breaking of necks and cracking of bones, she finds herself face to face with one of her few fears. Orin the Red.

How could she fall for this again? Her head spins with the thought of all the things Orin may be doing to you. She knows you could hold your own, but Orin had a way of breaking the unbreakable.

Sometimes, with how loyally she followed you, it was easy to forget that Minthara was used to being the one in charge. A lot had changed since you met her as the Nightwarden.

But it all comes back quickly as she barks out orders to the now leaderless party. They were marching on the Temple of Bhaal, now. Minthara was prepared to take on the god of murder himself if it meant saving you.

As tempting as it was to charge straight into the temple, it left you all with little hope of survival. She decided the party’s presence near the temple would be enough to lure Orin out, leaving her an open opportunity to slip in.

Orin’s tactless blood thirst made the plan go over all too well. She couldn’t resist the smell of fresh unspilled blood at her doorstep.

By the time Minthara got to you, you were weak but still painfully conscious. You were hanging over an alter like a sacrifice by meat hooks that cleaved into your skin.

You had been tortured in true Bhaalist fashion. While your body displayed clear evidence of the slicing and cleaving, your mind was even more clouded by the things you had been forced to do and endure. It made you even more sympathetic to Minthara’s past.

Minthara climbed onto the unholy alter and began to remove you from the cruel hooks. She ignored your weak protestations, refusing to even look you in the eyes.

She resisted any urge to comfort you, pushing all the softness from her mind until the mission was complete and you were safe. She did not speak, fearing she may distract herself for the task at hand.

She only allowed for a brief moment when she picked you up and felt your throw your arms around her neck. You curled into her stomach with a choked sob and cried “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you better than to think you are foolish. Orin is cunning, persistent, and full of deceit. I do not fault you for what has happened.”

Escaping the temple was easier than getting in. She wordlessly worked her way back to the Elfsong with the ease of someone who wasn’t carrying a bloodied body.

She did what she could to heal you herself, given that none of the others had returned yet. A mildly concerning tidbit that seemed not to faze Minthara in the slightest.

It wasn’t until she was positive you would be okay that she allowed herself to soften, running her hands through your blood crusted hair and gently cleaning you with a dampened rag.

She paid little mind to the rest of the party, who returned looking a little worse for wear. She was disappointed but not surprised to hear that they had failed to kill Orin.

She recruited Jaheira to assist in your healing. She trusted her more than Shadowheart. She never let go of your hand, even when you squeezed so hard you thought you may have broken her fingers as Jaheira patched wounds with a variety of burning liquids.

She laid next to you on the bed, resting her head gently against your stomach and allowing you to stroke her head. She wasn’t bothered by the filth and blood that covers nearly every inch of you.

“We will make her pay for what she’s done to you. What she’s done to us. We will match every scar she’s inflicted tenfold until not even Bhaal with recognizes his own blood,” she swears, placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

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mysaintkitten · 3 months

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smut with cillian murphy at the golden globes? am i crazy?

Claim Your Prize | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

!!disclaimer!! this fic does Not represent Cillian as a person, we love and support Yvonne here. this is simply for fun/fantasy! :3

WARNINGS: SMUT (MINORS DNI), public-ish sex, mirrors are involved, kind of sweet sex i think lol, creampie (of course)

“And the award goes to …”

A moment of silence and anticipation fills the room as the announcers carefully pry open the envelop containing the winners name. Beneath the table, you anxiously grab Cillian’s hand. He squeezes it gently in response.

“Cillian Murphy!”

As soon as his name escapes their lips, a wave of relief and appreciation crash over you. Finally, the most hardworking man you know is getting the admiration he deserves.

The people around you clap and cheer, and before Cillian heads up to accept his award you give him a quick hug and a kiss. A brief glimpse into the intimacy the two of you regularly share, yet are never public about it.

It then all becomes a beautiful, hectic blur. As cillian stands in front of everyone accepting his award, he seems to find all the right words to say, and all the right ways to say it. All you can do is stand back and watch him, giving him your utmost respect as he gives his thanks.

When his speech is over and the announcers move on to the next category, you get up from your table to meet Cillian half way. Since the rooms so tightly packed, the best route along the outer edges. As soon as he makes you out in the crowd he smiles happily at you, his eyes beaming with energy and gratitude.

Once you’re face to face, he hugs you again, tighter, finally getting a chance to hold you like he’d initially wanted to when they first announce his win.

Whilst getting ready earlier, you couldn’t help but brainstorm different ways to “reward” Cillian if he won. He isn’t very materialistic, and you knew that the only thing he truly wanted from you was your support, to stand by him whether he won or lost.

But you wanted more, you had to give him something you knew he needed after all these gruelling months of seemingly endless work.

So, after slipping into your dress for the event, you slipped off your panties directly after. Wanting Cillian to have as easy access as possible if he wins.

And now you’re here, wearing no panties underneath your dress, while hugging your winner of a husband.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper softly in his ear, turning your head a bit more to give him a kiss on the cheek, “so proud.”

He hums back, briefly nuzzling into your kisses before copying your gestures and kissing you on the cheek, leaving small quick pecks until he ended up back at your lips where he kissed you properly.

The kiss is passionate, warm, not yet sexual but you knew how easily it could fall into that territory.

“I have a gift for you,” you purr in his ear before dragging your fingers along his back, planting a small kiss on his neck and then pulling away.

“What is it?” Cillian asks, earnestly curious, he looks down for a moment but quickly realizes you aren’t carrying anything with you. With a mischievous grin, you grab his hand and lead him away to a private area. You’re able to sneak away quite easily, everyone else is much too fixated on the next winner anyway.

The hallways are vacant for the most part, a few scattered workers here and there, but all you’re thinking about is getting Cillian alone.

Whilst roaming the halls, you spot the bathroom. A unisex, single bathroom. Although it’s not ideal, it’s the best you’ll find in a place like this. Once Cillian sees where you’re heading, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out what your “gift” may entail.

After taking one more good look around, you decide the coast is clear enough and you both sneak into the bathroom before promptly locking the door.

It’s nothing special. A toilet, a sink, a mirror, what you’d normally expect to find in a bathroom. Luckily for you, the room had clearly just been cleaned. The counters and mirrors were spotless, and it smelt faintly of lemon and fresh laundry.

You swiftly turn around to face Cillian, placing your hands on the counter behind you, that sneaky little grin still spread across your lips.

With an equally naughty smile, Cillian presses his body against yours, him too placing his hands on the counter.

“So, what kind of gift does my lovely wife have in mind?” Cillian teases, kissing you gently on the lips, his voice lowers before he speaks again. “One that we need to be all alone for …”

The warmth between your legs intensifies, and the pressure of his body alone is enough to make your brain fuzzy. You drape your arms around his neck, briefly running your fingers through his hair.

“Just wanted to give you a little something that I know you’ve been missing,” you coo innocently, “something that you deserve after all this long …”

You pause for effect,

“And hard …” your voice becomes breathier as bring an arm down off his neck and snake it between your bodies, your grasp landing between his legs to palm him through his trousers, “work.”

Cillian growls, deeply inhaling your sweet and comforting smell, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Quickly, Cillian turns you around, your hips now against the edge of the counter top. And now, you’re met with your own reflection. Both you and Cill with flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair, your makeup smeared around the edges of your lips while Cillian’s have a faint red-ish hue from your lipstick.

“I’ve missed this, too,” you sigh as your arousal stirs within you, at this point you don’t doubt that your wetness has made its way to your inner thighs. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“S’all thanks to you, really …” Cillian groans against your neck, kissing the skin hungrily. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me fuckin’ sane throughout all of this.”

“Cill …” you giggle at his sweet words, your fingers carding through his hair while he stands behind you, his grip on your hips tightens and you feel him roll his hips against your ass. His warm bulge just begging to be freed.

“Honest,” he defends, “while I was on set, or late at night when I couldn’t sleep, the only thing that brought me peace was you.”

Despite how sweet Cillian’s being, you didn’t take him in here to some exchange kind words or swap some spit.

“You’ve got me here now,” you make eye contact in the mirror, his pupils blown and swimming with lust, “claim your prize.”

The palms of his run along your stomach, his head dipping down to place a kiss onto your neck before bringing his eyes back up to your reflection. Those same palms find your hips, gently gripping the soft skin before sliding his hands down further around your thighs.

He begins to grab at the material hanging down your legs, attempting to hike up your dress as best he can. You bite your lip and give him some assistance in pulling up the fabric, eager for him to see the little surprise you have for him.

Once your dress is lifted up enough, Cillian groans at the beauty in front of him. Your ass on clear display, no panties or tights obstructing his view.

“Were you like this the entire time?”

He watches you nod, a proud smile spread across your lips with your bottom lip still tucked between your teeth. With a smirk he shakes his head, quickly unzipping and unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls them down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, and you feel his hot member pressing against your ass.

Cillian dips a hand down between your legs from behind, trailing his middle finger along the slick seam of your pussy. He dips his finger in, moaning lowly at the warmth and wetness of your core.

“Jesus, baby. Missed my cock that badly, huh?”

You nod while watching him through the mirror, completely transfixed by the sensation of his body against yours along with Cillian’s effortless beauty and sex appeal. You’ve never had a partner that knew which buttons to press as well as Cillian, he could read you like a book.

A small sharp inhale is sucked from your lips when you feel the tip of his length teasing your pussy, smearing your arousal around before gently prodding at your opening.

“Look at yourself when I put it in.” Cillian purrs in your ear, sneaking a large hand up to your neck, gripping your neck and jaw and moving your head forward, forcing you to face your own pleasure.

Already you feel some small amounts of embarrassment, your cheeks are all flushed and your hairs all messy- how could you look so ruined already?

Before you can think too much, Cillian’s pushing his cock inside, slowly. You watch yourself as your mouth starts to hang open, and your brows pinch together. You feel his cock nearly splitting you open, giving you that oh so familiar sweet stretch that you’d been craving after all this time.

“You’ve gotten so fuckin’ tight …” Cillian groans from behind, his warm breath against your neck causing your body to shiver. “You missed getting filled up like this, sweetheart?”

You nod, panting heavily while barely being able to keep your eyes open. His hips roll back out before harshly snapping back in, forcing a pathetic whimper to slip from your lips.

“Yes, yes!” You moan, gripping the edge of the counter as Cillian’s grip on your jaw tightens. Your eyes crack back open and you see your own face again, the pure pleasure he’s giving you leaves you almost unrecognizable in your own eyes. “Missed y-you and your cock-k so much … love you so much …”

It wasn’t very common of either of you to say ‘I love you’ during sex. You’d say it regularly before and after the act, but during? Rarely happened. But since you’ve missed Cillian so much, and he’s been so busy, and now that all his hard work has paid off- it only felt right.

Well, that and the fact that you were already getting cock drunk off of him, your brain barely processing whatever words are coming from your mouth.

“Love you too, darling.” He breathes, kissing your neck while thrusting into you roughly, your hips pushing so harshly against the counter you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care. If anything, you want it to bruise. You want the physical reminder that your husband gave you a good, hard fucking after so many months of separation.

“Love your face, and how cute you look when you’ve got a cock inside you,” Cillian teases, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your neck again. “Love this pussy …”

“Fuck-“ you gasp, already feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to form. You really want to make this last, but it’s all been building up within you for far too long now.

“Love, love, love you, my sweet girl.”

“I-I- fuck-“ embarrassment pangs inside you, already too ruined to properly respond to him. Even though you hate it, you know Cillian adores it. While pounding into you, he feels your channel become slicker around him, the subtle sound of your wetness filling the room combined with some mewls and heavy breaths.

“C-Cill, gettin’ close-“ you warn, opening your eyes as best you can to see Cillian when you come. The hand that was gripping your jaw slides down your back, creeping over towards the front of your body where Cillian starts to rub quick circles onto your clit. His other hand digging into your hip.

“Come, baby. Please, missed seeing that pretty little face of yours come undone for me.” Cillian encourages with a growl, the mind-melting combination of pleasure had you tipping over the edge merely moments after.

Your orgasm hits you hard, the hardest you’ve come in months. You bite into your bottom lip roughly to try silence yourself. Your knees wobble, nearly giving out beneath you, but Cillian’s strong grasp on your hip keeps you up on your feet. While wincing from sensitivity, you push away the hand that was rubbing your clit, Cillian obliges.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own thrusts becoming sporadic and sloppy, “gonna come inside, baby.”

You nod and whine, the sensitivity and pleasure had your entire body vibrating.

“Please, please come inside. I need it.” You beg almost pathetically, wanting nothing more than to feel Cillian’s warm spend spilling out from inside you. He’s panting, cursing, sweating slightly, desperate to give you as much of his come as he can.

He bites down on your shoulder while keeping his hips flush against yours, his cock almost painfully deep inside you, you feel his cock twitch. His hot seed painting your silk walls, just like he’d been fantasizing about for all this time.

Once it starts to become too much, he slowly pulls himself out, only to lean his body forward while spreading your cheeks apart, attentively watching as some of his come trickles out of your pussy. He brings his middle finger up and gently shoves his come back in, earning a small whimper from you.

He leans back up and smacks your ass, making you gasp and giggle before letting the fabric of your dress fall back down to cover your legs.

Cillian turns you around and kisses you, sweetly and passionately.

“Thank you for the gift, my love.”

“This was just the first part, baby. The real gift comes when we get home.” You tease with a wink. You take the next few moments to clean yourself up and fix your appearance before heading back out to the event.

You spend the rest of that evening with Cillian’s come seeping out of you, a dirty little secret that only the two of you share.

—

this fic doesn’t really do it justice but I loooove in fics involving mirrors where the top or whoever’s in charge forces the other to look at themselves getting ruined :,( eat it up every time

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #hope y’all like this #:)

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angelstate · 3 months

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Husband!Konig x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Konig is a good lover, one who treats every situation with gentleness, he approaches you with a kind and understanding nature even if you are in the wrong because he would rather take the fault that let you be upset, he knows you don’t mean any harm, just sometimes it takes a bit to realize when you did something wrong or jumped into a conclusion that wasn’t true.

He is a kind and patient soul who wants only the best for you even if it means going against what everyone else deems acceptable, his heart knows no boundaries when it comes to making you happy and enjoy life the way you should.

Husband!Konig doubts himself a lot, he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you at times because of his job, and thinks that somehow his enemies will cause you harm in the long run even if you’re not associated with his work at all, it is something that makes him anxious but he manages his emotions to dedicate his energy to you.

Husband!Konig likes to buy you flowers every time he can, returning home from grocery shopping with a bouquet on his hands that he is already taking care of to put on a vase on the dining table, buying your favorite flower on his way home after a mission, he knows better than to show empty-handed, even if you only care about him and half the time crush the flowers with your eager hugs.

He likes the little details of love, the act of showing he has you in mind even in the smallest of ways because that means he isn’t just being superficial like most husbands who like their wives but do nothing to make them feel loved.

He thinks that should be a crime against the holiness of marriage, such a sacred union should be reserved for those who value their partner enough to go out of their way to make their life easier with simple things like doing house chores, buying their favorite snacks, and such.

Husband!Konig knows that his height brings certain problems most people didn’t know existed like the size of the bed you two sleep in, because no matter how much you searched on the internet, it seemed that every bed you buy is too small for the huge husband you have, or the amount of food that you have to regularly buy so the pantry isn’t empty because he raided every edible thing in the kitchen.

That said, it also has its perks, if you can’t reach something he is already grabbing it for you, cleaning the ceiling lamps or changing a light bulb has never been easier and his clothes are oversized just the way you like them.

you take advantage of his physic more than you should, telling him to carry you around in his arms, refusing to get up in the morning knowing he would throw you over his shoulder and force you to shower with him even if you showered the night before, you don’t even mind waking up early and showering with him but it’s fun to play hard to get with a man who has the ability to manhandle you as he wishes.

Husband!Konig is a soft-hearted person, he might seem intimidating on the outside but he is a man connected with his emotional side, not afraid to cry in front of you or vocalize when he’s upset or the reason behind his feelings, he knows that is unhealthy to keep emotions bottled up because they can cause resentment and he doesn’t want that for the two of you.

Husband!Konig loves animals, especially cats because of their soft fur and independent nature, so when this fat orange male cat approached him in the streets and rubbed against his legs when he had gone out to take the trash was definitely a moment that filled him with joy, as he took it inside your home and showed it to you, stating now you had a pet.

Husband!Konig is a very energetic person, always doing something with his hands, an anxiousness that only goes away when he’s focusing on something that requires him to sit still, like braiding your hair, he doesn’t want to get distracted and accidentally hurt you by pulling your hair or braiding too tightly that causes you a headache, he's careful to the point it seems like his defusing a bomb.

Husband!Konig loves the mundanity of everyday life, he feels at ease when his days blur together because there’s a routine that doesn’t involve violence, and it's easy for him to fall deep into the cycle of living day by day with peace on his mind and the lack of panic attacks that once consumed his days.

Husband!Konig is an amazing person overall, he dedicates every bit of himself to being infatuated with you, feeling you in every way possible, and connecting with you with every aspect of life the two of you share, he knows his love sometimes is overwhelming but taking care of you brings a calmness on his life, knowing his doing something inherently good.

He takes care of you for his and your pleasure, he takes pride in knowing you’re happy and satisfied at a physical and emotional level because he doesn’t like to see you anxious, and doesn’t like when life begins to burden you.

seasonal depression seems to be his worst enemy during the winter, more so than the low temperatures that make his hands numb and cheeks hurt from the cold, he knows the lack of sunlight and the inability to go out makes you depressed, that as much as you value staying home you also like nature but the snow stops you from going out for too long, your immune system being a bit weak doesn’t help either.

But he manages, he buys you a lightbox to help with your depression, and yeah, he knows artificial sunlight isn’t the remedy to your sadness but it keeps you at more peace and he likes to at least try and bring comfort to your home the way he can even if it doesn’t replace the real thing.

Husband!Konig is the perfect partner, truly. and he wishes that he gets to love you and take care of you in every lifetime, wants to be by your side in every universe that exists out there because he knows he would never be truly happy if he isn’t with you.

(little reminder: i'm taking requests if you would like me to write about something specific xx)

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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ignore this if it doesn't make sense buuut

we know what mafia!simon can get for shy!reader. so what would shy!reader buy for mafia!simon or what would she do to make him happy?

!!!!!! such a sweet question!

it's not a secret that mafia!Simon is very much into touching. it's his love language, and not even in like the pervy way either. he doesn't mind pda, always wanting to hold her hand, kiss her, etc. shy!Reader is obviously, well, shy lmao. freaks out about stuff like that, what people would think, is overly self-conscious, things of that sort, so obviously trying to fill part of his love language without compromising herself too much was a challenge!

until she figured out this man loves her cooking. the first time she cooked something for him, the man was grunting the entire time, hardly speaking because he was too busy shoveling food into his mouth, and still went back and got seconds. so she cooks for him regularly, and even looks into meals that fits with his work out regiment (because this man still boxes and goes to the gym lmfao).

every now and then she dabbles with baking, just simple things like cookies or cupcakes, and he swears she's trying to kill him. light butter cream frosting, airy cake, thick breaded cookies; how is he supposed to resist that?

"it's like you're tryna fatten me up to eat me."

now i'm imagining her packing a lunch or a dinner for him when he's gotta spend a late night at the club or something like that and packing a cute note inside!!! something with little heart doodles and x's and o's. god forbid if the others (soap and kyle lmao) see him because they will bully him relentlessly :) he keeps his favorite notes taped to his fridge

they're so cute it's killing me <3

#core responds #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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kraviolis · 11 months

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i told y’all. i told y’all i was gonna go crazy over this post made by @gummy-goat-galaxy

full disclosure i drew literally all of this before looking into the details of the AU so this is 70% my interpretation of his original post but i need to explain my thought process so. here’s the post explaining the details of the actual AU!!! and below is what my brain made up on the spot

ok so belos finds tiny child luz and is like “fuck everyone. this is mine now” and treats her like a goddamn princess. to him, she is a Gift From God to remind him to stay on his Righteous Path. an innocent little girl who is just so bubbly and always tries to see the good in everything, including him. she is a reminder of how Pure and Good humanity is, and seeing as though she’s the literal only human he’s had any contact with besides caleb in 400 fucking years, he is never letting the demon realm corrupt her like it did to him.

she’s basically his Lamb and he the Shepherd, and because he’s so desperate to keep her “““pure”““ he strictly keeps her within the castle and even then not all of the castle is available to her. he keeps her contact with witches to an absolute bare minimum.

he entrusts her protection specifically to hunter, despite the fact he’s only 2 years older. his reasoning is “caleb did a pretty good job raising me so this’ll be fine probably.” when belos himself cannot keep an eye on her, it’s hunter’s job. luz and hunter end up being raised in a sorta similar situation to catra & adora from she-ra but they are actually siblings and not just best friends.

(if u havent seen she-ra, basically its their abusive caretaker creating a golden child + scapegoat dynamic, where one kid can do absolutely no wrong (which doesnt mean they cant still be abused/manipulated!!) while the other kid is blamed for literally everything that goes wrong. the caretaker also regularly pits them against each other to encourage competition & keep the all power in the caretaker’s hands.)

similar to catra & adora, the whole competition thing doesnt really work. luz is just too damn kind and too damn good for hunter to ever resent her, and she’s all he really has. because hunter is the scapegoat, he grows wise to belos’s manipulations WAY sooner. it’s easier to figure out when you’re being mistreated when you literally watch ur guardian treating ur sibling so much better than how they treat u.

unfortunately, because luz cannot help but see the good in absolutely everyone and can be empathetic to a fault, she doesnt realize belos’s game until she ends up sneaking out of the castle. she actually really loves belos and is thankful for him taking her in for a long time. she calls him uncle like hunter, despite belos nudging her towards seeing him as a father bcus he sees her as a pseudo-daughter. (but luz remembers her dad, and has no desire to replace him with someone else no matter how much she cares for belos)

belos does love & adore luz, he would do almost anything to keep her happy and “innocent” and “pure”, but not to the extent that he could still end up redeemed. he still manipulates & subtly emotionally abuses her to keep her in line, but it’s only when she sneaks out and meets eda the owl lady does she start getting clued into this. and once luz learns what belos has done to hunter it’s all fucking over.

hunter loves luz. she is his sister and always will be. but while he’s stuck to belos because of his duties as golden guard, she sees how green the grass is on the other side and doesn’t even hesitate to hop over there. watching her slowly grow more and more distant while she keeps sneaking out to visit with her new friends (eda, king, willow, gus, amity, etc.) is one of the most painful things hunter has had to deal with.

he feels betrayed at first, as if luz is replacing him with other people who arent broken like he is, and when luz actually leaves for good- belos lies to the public and says she was kidnapped- hunter is the one who leads the hunt to find her and bring her back home safely. when they confront each other, luz tries to do her whole dramatic speech about how wrong belos is and how he’s been lying their whole lives, but hunter already knows. the only reason he stayed was for luz, but she couldnt even stay from him? it fuckin hurts man.

they end up on opposite sides for a minute. hunter gains no satisfaction from trying to ruin this new life she’s found for herself but goddamnit, he has a job to do. he cant just defect. and then he defects after watching belos try to kill luz because she’s let herself become corrupted by the witches.

thats about all my brain got for this so far. TL;DR basically just listen to the “first time in forever” and “mother knows best reprise” and “broken crown” by mumford & sons and thats pretty much the gist of it.

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dweeb-central · 3 months

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yuu cooked too much ft. heartlabyul, floyd, malleus, & ruggie

guys i entered a fugue state & wrote angst?? hcs

mc is used to cooking for a big family & accidentally mistakes recipe proportions, leaving them w way too much food. scenarios of them asking diff twst boys if they'd want some, mentioning why. a bit downtrodden with no family to share it with...

trey, cater, riddle... are touched. trey & cater both have big families, & their eyes soften at the mention of yours. trey especially empathizes with you, before he began cooking and baking for the majority of his dorm he cooked & baked for his family. he identifies with the habits of buying groceries in bulk & the need to keep the house stocked with anything five or more people could ever need (just in case). cater's interested to see what kinds of foods you'll cook. make him something from your heritage! he'll magicam it <3 or just save the memory in a photograph if you'd prefer. he'd love to listen to you talk about recipes & regional preferences & tastes. that goes for riddle too! his mom kept him on a strict diet for his childhood, but now that he's got the opportunity he'd love to learn about your heritage & culture! as he grows more outgoing he's learned more about the cultures of his peers & he'd probably be one of the most qualified (& excited) to answer any questions or point out any similarities with twisted wonderland cultures.

floyd... blinks his big wide eyes once, twice, & then launches himself towards you to wrap his arms tight & pick up straight up off the ground. "awwww, shrimpy misses their troupe! shrimpy's aaalways welcome to bring me dinner! we can play house!! i'll be the dad, you'll be the mom, azul will be our baby, and jade... he can be the dog and go play outside or something." ('- , -) you better stop him before he gets ahead of himself. least likely of octavinelle to bother you about selling the recipe to azul ((he'll give you a cut of the profits!)). still makes you cook in the mostro lounge kitchen, but only because he wants you to grow to feel more at home with him & in an environment he's used to... that way when he gets serious about his & shrimpy's relationship....

the adeuce duo... both go... quiet, at the mention of your past. it wasn't something you avoided talking about when you were reminded of something relevant, or things you enjoyed or saw, but... you don't talk much about your family. they don't ask much about your family. deuce feels a twinge of guilt—he doesn't shy away from talking about his mom, & he loves her too dearly to be ashamed or shy. he wonders if they make you feel as loved as his does. ace wonders if he should ask you about them more often. he's not exactly shy about his own family, but he doesn't exactly ever seek to bring them up in idle conversation. he wonders what your siblings are like. they give each other a resolved look above your head when you're not looking, & now they regularly (as much as they can) come over for dinners at ramshackle! if you're comfortable with it, they invite all the first years too. you hope they feel as familiar & familial to you as you feel for them. they hope you know they do.

malleus... feels a twinge in the back of his throat—maybe behind his eyes? his truest friend feels alone, something he recognizes deeply. he hasn't lost anyone close to him like that—at least, he doesn't feel like it. his lonely was a different sort, where he's never really known family like you have. but, he considers, maybe no one at this school has had to sacrifice more than his prefect. he wonders what dinners were like with that many, & you tell him. the bickering, the debates, the movie nights & commentaries, the nights spent making s'mores(?) over the fireplace. he wants dinners like that with you. you invite him to.

ruggie... might invite you to spend some time over with his family. not immediately, no way, but the thought lingered in his head long enough for his throat to burn with the words (& his cheeks to burn in embarassment). in reality, he grins a big wide grin & laughs his mischeivous little laugh. "i'll NEVER say no to free food. feel free to keep it coming! shehehe." he ends up coming over to help you cook a few times a month. it's a good excuse to spend time with you over a dinner he knows was cooked with love.

i had to google what a group of shrimp is called lol. could've actually been troupe OR run OR colony. i wonder if it's ooc that floyd knows this.... i mean, he is a fish man, so 🤷

#dweeb speaks #twisted wonderland #twst #yuu / mc / reader / prefect #heartslaybul x reader #riddle rosehearts x yuu #trey clover x yuu #cater diamond x yuu #floyd leech x yuu #ace trappola x yuu #deuce spade x yuu #adeuce #malleus draconia x yuu #ruggie bucchi x yuu #x reader #obligatory once a year post

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forestdeath1 · 2 months

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset.

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas.

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice.

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit.

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James.

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin.

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’

‘And my mum was OK with that?’

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’

Black made a derisive noise.

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

#sirius black #james potter #the marauders #the marauders meta #sirius black meta #hp meta

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anemoelliacia · 6 months

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the five times neuvillette knew he loved you

warnings: minor 4.2 spoilers, female reader, major fluff minus a sad neuvi who needs comforting in one part

▶ i recommend listening to the song till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas while reading this chapter <3

The first instance was when he saw you making a routine out of regularly interacting amongst the Melusine with nothing but care, practically treating them like your own children. The Melusine are virtually your favorite people in Fontaine, besides him of course. You’re always sure to greet them, never messing up their pronouns, and giving them presents on their birthdays. It is also a common occurrence for you to give them handmade lunches. The first time Neuvillette saw you in the Palais Mermonia, giving Sedene a handmade lunch his heart swelled with affection for you, the sweetest person he has ever had the privilege of meeting. He watched you in admiration, speculating that this feeling in his chest must be love developing for you.

Secondly, is how you taste water with him despite how silly everyone thinks it is. You never fail to cooperate with tasting different waters, assuring him that you can in fact taste the difference, even going so far as to pick a favorite to make him happy by participating in his hobby. You even created a hierarchy ranking system just to rank which waters you like, and which you don’t. Neuvillette loves when you engage in the hobby of water tasting with him, and he thinks he’d wouldn’t rather share this with anyone else but you, because no one else is more worthy of drinking the more expensive speciality bottled waters he has. He thinks, “Maybe I love her and that is why I wish so much to share my hobby with her?”

Thirdly, was the first time you bid him goodbye when he left for work in the morning. He had spent the night at your house for the first time as well, and waking up to you the next morning was almost the sweetest part of everything that happened. You practically begged him to stay for the day, to blow off work- even though you know he really can’t. He could not help but giggle over how clingy you are in the morning, after you’ve just woken up. This already had warm feelings stirring within him, but then… when he was about to head for the door, that is what had his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. You stopped him before he walked out, kissing him on the cheek and fixing his crooked collar. The moment was so sweet and domestic. He felt heat rising on his cheeks as you walked him out the door telling him that you’d bring him lunch later. As he walked the rest of the way to the Palais Mermonia, his thoughts were only filled with you, replaying that moment in his head and thinking, “is this what love truly feels like?”

Fourthly, was when Charlotte asked him about you during an interview. Charlotte finally got that interview she wanted with Neuvillette, and she just had to get the hottest scoop on him. She asked him many work related related questions, but she couldn't not ask him about you after she saw the two of you together- she needs a good story! She asked him, “So, Monsieur Neuvillette, I saw you at the cafe with a woman a few days ago, care to tell me who that was?” and Neuvillette’s face immediately lights up at the mention of you, he goes, “oh, that is my beloved…” He practically goes on a rant saying sweet things about you, but he catches what he is doing and cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat as his face starts to go pink. Charlotte is standing there smiling at him widely and she says to him, “You sure seem to like her a lot don’t you?” Neuvillette does not hesitate to answer, “yes, I think it is safe to say I like her a lot, perhaps I am even growing to love her…” knowing it will be the top story in the Steambird newspaper within a few days that Fontaine’s one and only chief justice has found a lover.

The fifth and final instance was the first time you comforted him after a hard trial. Since the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is no longer working due to recent events, he has taken charge of deciding people's verdicts on his own. Which, as you can imagine, is a draining task- especially when a criminal’s charges are of a sensitive matter. One day, after a particularly hard case, that hurt him to have to sentence the person as guilty… all he wanted was to be in your company. He showed up at your doorstep in the pouring rain, his clothes soaked completely through. Of course, you immediately rushed him inside and gave him a change of clothing. While he was changing, you threw a pot of tea on the stove for him- and he couldn’t be more thankful for you. He quietly drank his tea in your company to warm up after being chilled to the bone from rain soaked clothing, and you stayed with him not forcing him to talk about what was wrong until he was ready. When he was ready to talk, he tugged you along to your bed to cuddle with you. For once, you held him as he spilled his hardships from the day, the rain outside never letting up; however, he quickly settled into the comfort you gave him, growing to feel at ease- and that is when he knew. He loves you, with every fiber of his being. So, he finally says, “I love you with all my heart.” and all you can do is reply that you feel the same, holding him tighter.

▶ if you liked this, then check out the other parts linked in my masterlist :) every genshin man i write for is getting their own part.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette x reader

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childeel · 7 months

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"THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER."

✦ childe, diluc.

'when the blood of another stains his hands'

notes — mentions of murder, violence, angst / comfort.

childe ⟢

tartaglia is a fatui harbinger, he's familiar with gruesome violence, and faces it head-on regularly within his work. he 's taken more lives than he can count on fingers; and he tries not to think about it. hey, he's a harbinger — he 's just doing his job, if he needs to take a few people out on the way, then so be it; if it weren't them, then it was him — it 's just self defence. he tries to excuse himself, but he can't. how could a such a kind and innocent girl like you, end up with a man-made killing machine? he doesn't want that for you, he doesn't want your life to take the sudden turn that his did.

"do you ever wish things were different?" asks childe one night while you're both laid in bed together. your eyes are heavy, and your mind is beginning to tune out your surroundings. but childe is wide awake, his body is tense, and he's restless — and it's really pissing him off. your ear pressed against the beat of his heart, you quirk an eyebrow upwards. you're accustomed to tartaglia throwing questions at you in the dead of night, and so you don't think much of it at first. 'mm..? in what way?' you'd mumble back, slurring your words in a slight haze of sleepiness.

"just... y'know. the fact you ended up with me." he replies after a few moments of silence. his voice is monotone and dreary, but with your ear pressed so close to his chest, you can hear the slight shake in his breath. tartaglia will never be truly honest with you about his feelings, and so realistically, there's no point in asking him about it. tartaglia feels no need to share his negative emotions — he doesn't like vulnerability, and giving people an open chance to rip his heart right from his chest. and so, what it is that made this thought occur for him, was something that you could never be 100% sure about.

tartaglia doesn't want your pity, and you know that. your arms wrap tighter around his torso — pressing yourself closer into him, if you'd left any room between you to begin with. you lift your head that rests on his chest, your eyes desperately searching for his in the thick darkness of the room. your hand reaches to cup one side of his face, and your thumb traces over his bottom lip.

"no. that's never a thought that's even so much as crossed my mind," you begin, simply. one of his hands holds your own, and his other hovers on the lower of your back — and although you can't see them, you can feel your lover staring into you; drinking in every and any sense of you that he can. "whatever goes on in that, crazy, little mind of yours — it's not always right." you tell him, and you can hear him laugh softly. your voice becomes gentler, and you lower yourself, so that your lips barely brush against his own — "i love everything that makes you, you — no matter the reason, or the circumstances. id accept you in any way." you finish, pressing your lips forwards, capturing tartaglia's.

diluc ⟢

diluc has a dark past — one that will haunt him until his very last breath, every day is an aching reminder of those many years ago. his life was bleak and dull, he busied himself with work, his nightly duties; he could go days without sleeping — purely out of choice, as the nightmares he endured were much too a burden to deal with. and then, you came along. his longly wretched and desolate days were put to an abrupt end the day you stepped foot into his life, blazing a bright light into his moonless life. you were kind, and astonishingly beautiful — you had a heart and gold and fought for what was right, and you were notably skilled in fighting too — diluc though that you were just utterly perfect, and he didn't deserve that.

you'd dawdle into the angel 's share late one night — far beyond the closing hours. diluc was behind the bar, washing the glasses, finishing off for the night... or at least, that's what he was meant to be doing. when you'd walked in, you found him seated behind the bar with his head in his heads. the tavern was dim, the lights had been shut off all but one above the bar. you couldn't hear anything, not a sniffle nor a breath — but visually, it was obvious diluc was crying; which was an uncommon sight for you.

"luc..?" you uttered out, cautiously stepping towards him. you weren't entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you'd never seen diluc in such a sorry state in your life. "my love... what's the matter?" you'd ask again after a few moments of silence. diluc had not moved a muscle upon your entrance, he was undisputedly humiliated — he'd been caught, he was vulnerable to the core. besides, he didn't know what to say, talking out his feelings wasn't his forte being strictly honest — the words would get caught in his throat, scratching and clawing, leaving a burning in his throat, and words unsaid. but, he couldn't sit frozen and act like he wasn't there forever — not when you were stood, so beautifully in-front of him, eyes wide, lips parted, one of your soft hands rested against his forearm. you looked frantic, and hugely concerned.

"oh. it's you, dear." he'd clear his throat, trying to rid of the strain in his voice, but to no avail — there was a croak in his glum words. he lifted his head from his hands, his eyes weighted down — glossy and bloodshot, blotches of red painting his face. "it- uhm, it really is nothing dear." he manages to say, when his heart feels as if it were clenched in the palm of your hand. "i really do apologise for the delay — let 's head home, you must be tired."

and like that, he 's hastily clearing out, shutting off the remaining lights and locking the tavern door behind him. he takes your hand in his whilst the two of you walk back to your home, in a heavy and uncomfortable silence. the silence continues when you get home, when he's holding you in his arms — so tight. you understand that diluc may not ever tell you what's going on up there, and if he does — it'll be when he's ready. all you can do in the moment, is make sure you show him just how much he means to you.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin angst #genshin comfort

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ghouljams · 2 months

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FERAL FOR PROFESSOR GHOST AND DR LOVE SHE WOULD SO TOTALLY GET THE DISCORD INVITE AND NO ONE WOULD KNOW HOW (she fucking hacked someones account by sending them an email with a fishing link and sent the invite to herself and deleted all evidence bc im convinced she knows how to do that bc she had to change her grade in college bc one of her professors was stupid (it was a philosophy professor)) dont ask me how i know this i just do (she told me)

She did tell you that, you're right.

Dr. Love regularly shares stories about her strange and unusual academic record: accidentally hooking up with a professor before starting their class, hacking her grades, the time not one but two other people copied her research, the book of erotic love poems she published under a pseudonym no one has been able to find... Honestly no one should have been surprised that she grabbed herself a discord link, it was only a matter of time.

The fact that the grade she changed in college was for a philosophy course is less common knowledge. Now, the problem Love had with the class wasn't the reading or the concepts, but rather the professor's interpretations of them. Fundamentally Love disagreed with him, and wasn't afraid to tell him that. Which should have been fine for someone who studies something as opinion oriented as philosophy but it WASN'T. Love has always been the person she is, the pink and heels, the bubbly disposition, it puts her at odds with most men, and especially puts her at odds with professors that think she's stupid.(legally blonde who?)

You might think that this would lead her to dislike philosophers and Ghost, especially when he dismissed her as a student as soon as he saw her. However, Ghost is so hot. He's also never diminished her intelligence, and seems to listen to what she has to say on the philosophers he gives her. Does he kick her out of his office 9 times out of 10? Yes, absolutely. That's not an intelligence thing though, that's because he doesn't like her flirting.

Actually, it's sort of funny for her to learn that there's a discord dedicated to her bothering Ghost. She originally steals an invite and hops on to see if her students are complaining about all the interruptions, and it.... I mean... She didn't realize-

She scrolls through photo after photo of Ghost staring at her, of his hand hovering behind her, of his eyes so soft when she's not looking. She reads through discussions from his class of the way he stares after her each time she leaves, how he stalls in his lecture sometimes because he mentioned passing her a book on the philosopher they're studying, how he never lets anyone but her interrupt his office hours, how he slows his walk when he goes past the anthropology offices... She reads through short notes from her own class, students near the door mentioning when Ghost laughs at her jokes (a soft chuff of air that he doesn't think anyone notices) and smiles to himself when she gets particularly involved in a lecture point.

It's worse seeing her own soft stare. Suddenly the flirting doesn't feel so casual anymore. She tells the chat "I'm going to fuck that old man" and beats a hasty retreat because Jesus fucking Christ. She didn't realize Ghost liked her, she thought he was just putting up with her. For God's sake she didn't know she was in love with him.

#x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc #oc: love #professor au #professor!ghost

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slut4thebroken · 8 months

Text

Partners

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x assassin!reader

Summary | You and Jackson are paired together on an assignment. The job in question? Pose as a couple in a bdsm club and lure your target somewhere more private.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, humiliation, public humiliation, voyerism, exhibitionism, praise, degradation, objectification, face fucking, deep throating, girl on girl kissing💅🏻, grinding, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, spitting, ?, lol.

Words | 7k

Notes | Somehow I wrote this in like one day lol but I kinda love it.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s working with a partner. You’re perfectly capable doing a job on your own, but your employer said you could either work with someone or be fired. Fired means dead— he can’t have people who know what you know, not working for him— so obviously you chose the former.

Your assignment this time was simple; retrieve his phone, leave him alive. What made it difficult were the amount of guards he had on him 24/7 and his major trust issues. You couldn’t just walk up to him and start flirting— he’d get too suspicious. Which is where your partner came in.

The target regularly attends a bdsm club and you don't know how your employer knows this, but when he’s there, he only goes to one of the private rooms if it’s with a pair, not just one person. Which unfortunately meant that you have to play submissive with a man you met only a few hours ago— and not just any man. After your brief amount of time together, it didn’t take long for you to completely hate him. He was cocky and unnervingly charming, but had an undertone of misogyny to him— that much was obvious in the way that he undermined your work. But it was this, or death. So you had to put up with him.

“What should I call you?” He asked, standing in front of the mirror as he adjusted his tie. You were sitting on the bed, buckling the straps of your outrageously high heels.

“My name?” You said, as if you were talking to a child who just asked a stupid question. He paused and turned to you.

“No sub goes to a bdsm club with a dom and is called by their real name. Should I choose for you?” He condescended, making you clench your jaw. Should you just come up with a name you don’t actually use or like? You probably won’t be able to get in character as easily though.

“Princess I guess.”

“Great.” He said dryly, making you roll your eyes. “You can just call me sir.”

“Great.” You repeated, in the same tone as him.

The drive was awkward. Neither if you talked unless it was about the mission, but both of you already knew what to do. You arrived before the target, so you took the time to get a feel for the place and get into character. While this isn’t your first time in a place like this, you haven’t been often and it still makes you blush. He led you over to a quiet corner, then sat down. When you started doing the same, he stopped you.

“Kneel on the ground.” He explained, making you clench your jaw, but obey. You know what kind of partnership the target prefers. You have to just swallow your pride and do this with a stranger who already infuriates you after only a few hours together. You dropped to your knees next to him, trying to adjust your skirt so it wouldn’t show anything, but it was useless. It didn’t even cover your ass when you were standing, let alone sitting. You were just glad you were wearing underwear. The top wasn’t much better— your breasts were spilling out of it and it was short enough to barely be classified as a crop top. It was basically just a skimpy bra. The collar weighed heavy around your neck and while this wasn’t your first time wearing one, you’re usually in a deeper headspace and with someone you actually like while wearing it. Right now it was just a constant reminder of the demeaning position your boss put you in. You turned over your shoulder to look at the door, but he stopped you.

“Look at me or your lap. I’ll tell you when he’s here.”

“We’re just going to sit here until then?” That would be even more suspicious.

“No. We have to already be doing something when he walks in.”

“No shit. Like what, genius?” You spat, growing nervous when his lips twisted up into a smirk.

“Grind on my foot.” He said, extending his leg. You gaped at him, too caught off guard to figure out what to say.

“What? I'm not— No!”

“Princess,” he warned, leaning forward to grab your cheeks in his hand, “if you want to live through this and not be killed by the target or your boss, you’ll do what I say.” He said lowly, making you swallow down a moan.

“Fuck— fuck, fine.” You hissed and he let go of your face, letting you position yourself over his shoe. You let out a heavy breath through your nose and clenched your jaw, not able to look at him as you lowered yourself down until your clothed heat met the smooth leather.

You started out slow, tentative, your arms moving around awkwardly, not sure where to put them.

“Hands behind your back.” He said, making you look up at him. Your hands moved behind your back without hesitation and you internally groaned at the fact that you’re already slipping into that headspace.

“Good girl, just like that.” He cooed mockingly, making you glare at him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You spat, even though his words added to your unwanted arousal.

“Careful, princess. Anyone could be listening.” He smirked, flexing his foot up, making you gasp as your hips bucked toward the pressure. He didn’t keep his eyes on you for long, wanting to instead scan the crowd and keep an eye out for the target.

“I don’t like this, Jackson,”

“Try again.” You just gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, not wanting to call him that unless you absolutely have to.

“I don’t trust you, I want to be able to see.” You finished.

“Your options are this or sitting on my lap, but I’ll have to touch you another way to keep up appearances.” Fuck. Is being able to see the room really worth him touching you like that? He’s probably going to need to do so eventually, though…

“Fine.” You said, standing up. “Over my clothes.” You turned around and sat on his lap, feeling slightly less tense now.

“Clothes?” He scoffed, making your cheeks flush.

“Shut up.” You hissed. His hands suddenly settled on your thighs and your breath caught in your throat. He teased you, dragging them up and down, barely brushing the bottom of your skirt. He placed a hand on your chest— your cleavage— and you were about to say something, but he just pulled you back so you were leaning against his chest.

“Open your legs.” He whispered against your ear, making your shiver.

“I don’t exactly want to give the entire room a view up my skirt.”

“Sweetheart.. they’re going to get much more than that soon enough. Might as well just rip the bandaid off.” You gritted your teeth at the pet name, but still did what he said. “Good girl.” One of his hands started drifting higher, pushing under your skirt until he brushed your core, making you bite down on your lip to contain any sounds.

“You think I want this too? I didn’t exactly picture my next job being spent feeling up a whore assassin in the middle of a bdsm club.”

“Fuck you, Jackson.” You spat and he reeled his hand back then brought it down just as fast, making you jolt as a quiet whimper escaped you.

“What did I fucking say?” He growled, roughly cupping your cunt over the lace.

“Fuck you, sir.” You said viciously, but the breathiness in your voice took away some of the bite. “You think I wanted to spend my next job getting felt up by some ammatuer?” His other hand shot up to grab your neck and roughly pull your head back against his shoulder as he squeezed.

“If I were in your position, I wouldn’t speak like that.” He hissed. You grabbed the arm of the hand on your neck, clawing at it to get him to let go. “Now, how about you shut the fuck up and be a good little girl, like your employer told you to be, and stop drawing attention to us, hm?” You were suddenly hyper aware of the few pairs of eyes that were now watching you. Your hands went lax and dropped to your sides, making his grip loosen slightly. The hand on your cunt was moving more purposefully now, rubbing your clit slowly as your eyes fell shut and you squirmed, trying to ignore the fact that you were being watched and this was a stranger rubbing your clit right now.

“I have to know your secret. What did you say to her?” A man suddenly asked and you opened your eyes to find him and a woman standing in front of you. “My girl likes being a brat but it usually takes longer to get her to submit, isn’t that right, pet?”

“Just helping you practice your authority, sir.” She said sweetly and if you weren’t in your current predicament, you would’ve laughed.

“Oh you know, the usual threats.” Jackson chuckled with a shrug.

“C’mon, you gotta help me out— look at her! Only seconds ago she was acting out.” Jackson laughed quietly behind you and you wondered how he was going to play this.

“I got lucky— she’s a cock hungry little whore. All I gotta do is just threaten to not give it to her and she fixes her attitude almost instantly.” He said proudly, making you blush as you whined and turned your head. “She gets a little shy. This is our first time here and she’s not used to so many people.” He explained and the man hummed in understanding.

“Well, welcome. I’m Nick.”

“Jackson. I hope it works out for you.” You could tell he was smiling through the obvious dismissal.

“Thanks. I’ll give it a try next time.” They both walked away and you let out a heavy breath as his hand slowed to a stop.

“Screw you.” You muttered, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah I thought you might like that.” You took deep breaths, trying to calm down and not let your nerves consume you. “We need to do more. We stick out too much like this.” Looking around the room, you knew he was right. Everyone was either engaging in some kind of nudity and/or intense sexual act, or they were watching one.

“I know.” You sighed. “Like what?”

“You can suck me off, or if you want to keep watching the room, I can finger you.” He suggested, making your blush deepen. His hands rubbed up and down your legs as he waited for you to decide.

“Fine. You can finger me, just leave my underwear on please.” You said quietly. It was almost as if he could sense your nervousness about the situation because he didn’t respond with a mean retort or a jab at you.

“Okay.” Was all he said. One of his hands snaked up, then wasted no time slipping in your underwear and brushing through your folds. “Jesus.” He said through a breathy laugh.

“Don’t act like I’m not sitting on your fucking hard on right now.” You hissed, making him go quiet.

“Fair enough.” He pushed a finger in and your hand gripped his leg as you stiffened. He started curling it slowly and you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. “Feel good?” He rasped and you couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not. You cursed under your breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to completely give in to the pleasure. When he started kissing your neck, you couldn’t hold down the moan anymore.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, hips grinding against his hand.

“You like having your neck kissed?” God— it’s one of your favorite things. For some reason, the simple act never fails to get you hot and bothered and turn you into a pliant, needy mess.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, gasping when he pushed another finger in.

“Look at that…” He cooed. “Just a few fingers and you’re already slipping. I can’t wait to see how dumb you get on my cock.” You whined, hips moving incessantly. Even though you knew he wouldn’t actually fuck you, the thought still made you dizzy. When he lightly nipped at the skin, you let out a low moan and squeezed his leg harder.

“No marks.” You whispered, despite the fact that your body was begging for the opposite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” He mumbled sarcastically. You let your eyes fall shut and rested the full weight of your head on his shoulder as he kept kissing the sensitive skin. He was grinding the heel of his hand against your clit as his fingers curled inside you relentlessly and you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“He’s here.” He whispered, making your eyes snap open. Sure enough, he and about five men were walking in. He walked over to a booth and waited as one of the guards spoke to the people sitting there, making them instantly scramble out of their seats for the man.

“How should we play this?” You whispered and his fingers slowed to a stop, but didn’t leave you.

“We can’t come on too strong, but we also need to do something to get his attention.”

“He won’t want it if it’s too easy though.” You added, groaning internally at what that meant you had to do. “We have to be the most desirable people here.”

“Draw a crowd.” He confirmed, removing his fingers, making you swallow down a whine.

“How do we do that?” You don’t know why you were asking him and not just deciding. Actually, that’s not true— it’s because you were already so close to entering a head space that you should not be in while working.

“Get on your knees again. I’ll be right back.” You stood up and watched him walk over to Nick who was watching someone getting spanked while his.. “pet” was working his cock over in her mouth. You kneeled, but kept your eyes on him as you waited. They both looked at you, then back at each other, now with smiles as Jackson patted the man’s shoulder. He made his way back to you as Nick started talking to a few other people.

“I’m getting a crowd.” He explained. “Just play along. I’ll keep watching our guy and tell you when he’s coming over, okay?” You nodded and he cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Ready to put that mouth to good use?” He smirked and you swallowed thickly. His attention was drawn away from you when Nick approached, followed by a few other people, some of them crawling and being led by leashes.

“I was telling our friend here how you want to work on your “stage fright.’” He explained, putting on a show for them. “What do you think, princess? This a big enough crowd for you?” You stared up at them with wide eyes, trying not to shrink under all of their gazes.

“Yes, sir.” You said meekly.

“Atta girl. Now how about you get to it? We don’t want to keep them waiting.” You nodded and reached for his belt with shaky hands. When you finally freed his cock, you choked on a gasp at the sheer size of it. You tentatively took him in your hand and stroked slowly, getting a feel for it.

You’re no virgin, but you’ve been so busy with work for the past few months that you’ve been relying on your vibrator. So you’re a little out of practice and his size isn’t helping much. He placed a hand on your head to pet your hair.

“You know what I want. Don’t be a tease.” He warned, making you look up at him.

“Sorry, sir. Just got distracted.” You heard the group behind you chuckle.

“What’d I say, huh, Nick? Cock hungry whore— she’s practically obsessed with it. Can’t even go a day without it.” He took in a sharp breath when you suddenly enveloped the tip in your mouth, still stroking the base. “Fuck, there you go. Give our friends a show, yeah?” You whined at the reminder that you were being watched, making his hips flinch forward. Despite his request, you kept your mouth on the head of his cock, not going much further. He suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, making you gasp and choke on a moan. He leaned down close to you and you grew nervous because of his expression.

“I didn’t invite them over to watch you do a half assed job. Either do it right, or I’ll get someone else to do it and you’ll go the rest of the night without it.” He growled, making you press your thighs together. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” You whimpered and he loosened his grip as he leaned back up. You kept your hand at the base, but started bobbing your head more now, taking most of his cock in your mouth.

“Wow she really is cock hungry.” Nick said, making you whine.

“It’s a blessing and a curse.” Jackson said through a breath, starting to guide your head. “Can’t get anything done if she’s around.” He chuckled, making the rest of them laugh along with him.

“Mind if I take her for a spin?” Your stomach dropped at that. Sucking off a stranger who you’ve known for a few hours is different than sucking off one you just met barely ten minutes ago.

“Maybe next time. Like I told you, this is our first time and she’s already pretty nervous.” He said and you could’ve cried in relief.

“No worries, man. My girl was the same for our first time.” Jackson was about to respond before you accidentally went down too far and gagged around him, making him moan.

“Shit— Let’s show ‘em what you can really do, yeah? Attract some more people.” You were pretty sure that meant the target wasn’t watching you yet. You hummed around him in acknowledgment and he adjusted his grip on your head, then started moving you up and down. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately released his cock and put your arms back. He sped up slightly, but was still going slow enough to let you get a feel for it. When he pulled you down, then held you there, your cunt pulsed when you realized what he wanted.

“Relax your throat, princess. Let me in.” He said through a breath. You tried to obey, but you started gagging, making it almost impossible. “She just needs a little help sometimes.” He said before roughly pulling you down until he breached your throat barrier, making you choke and sputter as he groaned. He yanked you off, then slapped you across the cheek, the suddenness of it all making you dizzy.

“If I feel your teeth again, you’re done for the night.”

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, sir.” You rasped, then opened your mouth, waiting.

“Fuck- she really is eager.” Someone commented with a snicker.

“Oh you have no idea.” Jackson said before pushing you back down, then extending his leg so his foot was between your legs. “Go ahead, bitch. Show everyone how much you love my cock.” You whined, but had no control over your body when you started grinding on his shoe. You moaned around his length as you desperately bucked your hips, missing the stimulation you were getting from his fingers before. The tip of his cock was punching the back of your mouth with each thrust, making you gag and writhe.

Eventually he gave you a break. He pulled you off his cock then immediately forced your head between his legs, pushing your face against his balls.

“Suck.” He growled, making you obey instantly. As you worked him over in your mouth, he was letting out breathy moans and grunts that had you whining against him, wanting more. “I don’t know what you were so nervous about, baby. You seem to be fine with all the people watching you.” At first, you whined at the reminder, but then you realized that he might’ve said that to let you know the target was watching now.

“She like rimming?” Someone asked, making you panic because no, you absolutely do not like rimming. You almost pulled away to speak, but he beat you to it.

“She has to be pretty deep into subspace to get that filthy.” He said, making you relax a little. With his balls in your mouth and his cock resting on your face, you already felt pretty filthy. But it was just the right amount to make your hips move more eagerly against his shoe. He suddenly pulled you back and you looked up at him with an open mouth, waiting.

“Spit on it.” Your eyes widened at the request but you quickly gathered the saliva in your mouth and spit it on his cock. The second you finished, he was rubbing his length over your face, smearing your saliva, making you grimace. He slapped your cheek with his cock a few times before letting out a quiet chuckle.

“This filthy enough for you?” He asked, turning your head to face the audience, giving you confirmation that the target's eyes were indeed on you.

“Can I make a request?” The same man from before asked and you prayed he wouldn’t request anything that required you to get anywhere near an asshole.

“Depends on what it is.” Jackson said, playing along as he turned you back around to keep rubbing his spit soaked cock on your face.

“Let some of us spit on her too, yeah? Really get her nice and filthy.” Jackson looked down at you and you were trying to come up with a response. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Sure, you’d have to take a very thorough shower later, but at least if it was interactive, it might entice your target to join. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“What do you say, princess? Wanna be a good girl and let them do this?” You nodded with pink cheeks and he yanked your head back. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir. I- I want it.” You whimpered, making him grin.

“You heard her.” He said, releasing your hair and taking a step back as he slowly stroked his cock. You turned around and the man moved forward, then looked at Jackson before doing anything.

“Can I grab her face?”

“If she agrees.”

“You can touch my face, sir.” You said quietly, staring up at him through your lashes. He looked down at you and cursed under his breath before grabbing your cheeks and leaning down a bit. You flinched when the spit hit your face, then whined when he rubbed it in.

“Fuckin’ disgusting. She likes it too, huh?” He chuckled, looking at Jackson again as he stepped back.

“Oh she loves it. I’m sure she’s making a mess all over the floor.” He replied, making your whole face turn red because it sure felt like you were making a mess all over the floor. But from Jackson, not from these other people.

Someone else stepped forward and carded his fingers through your hair before grabbing it and gently pulling your head back. His cock was out of his pants, fully erect, right in front of your face and you watched it jump when you whimpered after the man spat on you.

Nick walked forward this time, having the woman kneeling at his feet crawl forward with him.

“You have a safe word?” He asked and you nodded.

“Red.”

“Good.” He leaned down and spat on your face, this one feeling more forceful than the others, making you flinch again when it hit your face. “Now, pet, after she tells us her color, I want you to lick it off her face, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They both turned to you expectantly and your eyes flicked over to the target for half a second before going back to them.

“Green.” You said quietly, making him beam. The woman shuffled forward and placed a hand on your thigh to steady herself as she leaned closer and slowly licked up your cheek.

“Clean it all unless she says her safe word.” He commanded and you let her lap up the spit on your face, including over your lips. Your entire face was on fire when she pulled back slightly, her breath fanning your lips.

“Ever kissed a girl before?” She asked sweetly, making your eyes widened as you choked on your spit. You shook your head, making her grin. “Do you want to?”

“I- I have to ask first.” You said through a breath, almost forgetting where you were for a moment. Your whole focus was on her— the hand on your thigh, breath on your lips, even her words were intoxicating enough to make your brain go blank.

“Go ahead then.” She smirked, pulling back a bit, making you finally feel like you could breathe. You cleared your throat, then turned around, looking up at him.

“She asked if I want to kiss her.” You said meekly.

“And do you?”

“I want what you want, sir.” It was hard to tell if you were still pretending.

“I think it’ll be a good way for you to practice feeling more comfortable in front of a crowd— might even attract some more people.” You knew that by “more people” he meant the target, so you nodded and bit your lip as you turned back around. Her smirk was still intact and she moved back toward you, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your thigh. When she started moving forward, you closed your eyes and waited.

The kiss started out slow and tentative, but quickly grew hungrier. Her hand snaked around your neck to hold you against her as she practically devoured your mouth. You could faintly hear whistles and more talking, but it was all hard to focus on. Hands were suddenly on your shoulders and you jumped, but quickly relaxed when you heard Jackson’s voice.

“Spit on her face.” He rasped, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up once she pulled back. Her eyes flickered between you and Jackson for only another moment before she did what he said. You gasped and he gripped your cheeks tightly to keep your jaw open. “Now in her mouth.” You couldn’t hold down the moan when you felt her spit land on your tongue.

“Be a good girl and lick it up again.” Nick added and she leaned forward to lick her spit from your face, then kissed you again, forcing her tongue in your mouth, making you whimper.

“Fuck— that’s it. You’re getting quite the crowd, baby.” He said quietly, then placed a hand on your waist and squeezed to really make sure you understood that wasn’t just a normal statement. When the woman pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips and you panted, trying to catch your breath and clear your head enough to have a coherent thought.

“Who else wants to spit on her?” Jackson asked, somewhat loudly. A few people started to agree, but quickly stopped once your target stepped forward. “I think we have another volunteer, princess.” He smirked and the woman in front of you crawled back to Nick. You looked up at him through your lashes, trying not to do anything that would accidentally blow your cover.

“She’s a pretty thing.” He said, stepping even more into your space, making you crane your head back to look at him.

“Oh yeah. Pretty, but stupid— the perfect toy.” Jackson said proudly as he stood up from where he was crouched behind you.

“I bet.” He chuckled, making you flush and avert your gaze. “I saw how eager she was with a cock in her mouth. Is she just like that with you? Or is she like that with any cock.”

“Any cock. But we weren’t going to do much more than this. It’s our first time here and she’s pretty nervous.”

“I see. That’s disappointing.” He sighed and you craned your neck around to look at Jackson.

“Permission to speak, sir?” You were really trying to play it up in front of the target.

“Yes.”

“I don’t mind. I’d just prefer going to a private room than staying out here.” You said meekly and he gave you a small smile as he pet your hair.

“You sure, princess?”

“Yes, sir. If he’s okay with going to a room.” Jackson looked at the man expectantly and he stared down at you, thinking.

“I don’t mind.” He finally said, glancing at a guard and giving him a curt nod. “Shall we?” He motioned to the hallway where the rooms are and you started to stand, but Jackson stopped you as he tucked his erection back in his pants.

“You can crawl.” He said and you flushed but dropped down to your hands and knees, following along behind them.

The door shut softly and you waited on your knees expectantly.

“How about I test that mouth, huh? See how eager she really is.” He smirked and you prayed Jackson would make a move sooner rather than later. He took his cock out of his pants, then roughly grabbed your hair, making you whimper. When he suddenly forced you all the way down, you choked and your hands shot out to push at his thighs. He suddenly released your hair and you pulled off with a cough, finding Jackson’s arm wrapped around the man’s neck, strangling him. After another minute he finally went limp and Jackson let him fall to the ground in front of you.

“You couldn’t have done that before he fucking punched my throat with his dick? That hurt.” You complained, grabbing his phone from his pocket, then standing up on sore legs.

“I needed to wait until his guard was down.” He explained and all you did was roll your eyes and start walking toward the door, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“We can’t leave yet. His guards will be right outside the door and they’ll know something’s up if we leave now.” You paused, then let out a groan at the fact that he’s right.

“Fuck— fine. But I’m laying down.” You said, snatching your wrist from his hand and walked to the bed. You grabbed one of the small towels from the side table and wiped your face with a grimace as he rounded the bed and sat on the other side.

“You did a surprisingly good job.” He admitted, making you turn to him with narrowed eyes.

“Thanks.” You said, in place of ‘fuck you.’

“I just meant that I didn’t think you’d take it that far.” He defended and you calmed down a bit.

“Neither did I.” You muttered.

“You make a pretty good sub when you’re not being a stuck up bitch.” He snickered. You threw the towel at his face, then laid down, deciding to ignore him… as well as the arousal still making your cunt ache.

“If we’re going to be here a while, the least you could do is let me sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” You turned away from him and closed your eyes, feeling the bed dip and clothes rustle as he laid down. When he let out a low groan, you stiffened and strained your ear. The second time, you turned over, ready to yell at him, but it died in your throat when you saw his head thrown back as he rapidly fisted his cock.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, making his lips curl up into a smirk.

“Denial isn't one of my kinks, sweetheart. At least, not for me.”

“Well— You could at least have the decency to not do it in the bed I’m trying to sleep in.” Your tone was not nearly as stern as you wanted it to be.

“My cock was literally down your throat, but you have a problem with this?” He scoffed a laugh, making your cheeks heat up. “Besides, it won’t be believable if I walk out of here rock hard.” He said, like it was obvious. “You could always help me and speed it up.” He suggested, making your mouth fall open.

“I’m good.” You spat, making him chuckle.

“Sure, princess. You keep acting like your pussy isn’t dripping down your thighs and maybe you’ll even start to believe it.” You flushed with anger, embarrassment, and arousal this time.

“Maybe it is. But if I’m gonna get someone’s help, then I’ll ask the girl who caused it.” You smirked, making him freeze.

“That’s cute.” He said sarcastically and your smirk widened.

“Maybe I’ll go get her— tell the guards he wants a foursome instead.” You moved to get up, but he roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back until you were laying down again, then got on top of you.

“Keep testing me. You’re not going to like where it gets you.” He warned, making your cunt throb.

“I’m not your sub, Jackson. Get that through your thick skull.” He placed a hand on your neck and squeezed, making your breath hitch.

“Maybe not. That doesn’t change the fact that you want me to fuck you.” That made you scoff.

“Please get your head out of your ass, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Sure, baby. Keep pretending I’m wrong.” He smirked. “You have a safe word. Use it.” He dared and you narrowed your eyes as you clenched your jaw.

“Fuck you.” You spat, pushing at his chest, making his grip tighten on your neck.

“Use it.”

Your gaze hardened as you stared up at him, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t make yourself say it though. You’re too curious— too eager to know where this is going.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He spat, making you roll your eyes. He removed his hand from your neck to slap you, then immediately put it back. This slap was so much harder than the one he gave you out there and you almost whimpered at the sting on your cheek.

“Go fuck yourself.” You said lowly, watching his cheeks tense as he clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose.

“I’m sick of your fucking attitude.” He was turning you on your stomach before you even knew what was happening. When you tried to lift yourself up, he pushed you down and held you there with a hand on the back of your head. It was harder to breathe like this, but you couldn’t even slightly care about that when he roughly pushed your skirt up over your ass, then pulled your panties down just enough to free your cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock brushed your entrance and he didn’t bother teasing you before forcing it inside, making you let out a strangled whimper at the suddenness of it all. He only stopped once his hips were flush with your ass and you gripped the sheets as you did your best to adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck— I can’t believe such an annoying little bitch has such a good cunt.” He said through a breath. When you tried to push yourself up to curse him out, he just pushed down harder on your head, making you whimper.

He slowly dragged out until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward, making you scream and try to move up the bed away from the intense feeling.

“Ah ah ah— You’re not going anywhere, bitch. I’ve waited all fucking night for this.” He continued the same pace of slowly dragging out, then roughly slamming back in and you wished he’d do something that felt better for you— not that this felt bad… there are just other things that’ll actually feel good.

He moved his hand to the back of your neck and you were able to turn your head to the side so you could actually breathe again. At a particularly rough thrust, you let out a choked moan and cried out.

“I can’t believe you think people could ever see you as a respectable assassin after this. Not when you played your part a little too well.” You squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper, trying not to let yourself believe his words. “This is probably the only kind of job you’ll get from now on. No dignity, no self respect, just a wannabe assassin being used as a whore.” You let out a choked sob, his words going straight to your cunt.

“And I’ll bet you’ll like it too. You’ll fuck anyone he tells you to, not just because it’s your job… but because you want to.”

“Jackson,” You cried and he shushed you softly.

“It’s okay, princess. You can’t help it— you were born to be a whore.”

“Fuck,” You sobbed out, “oh god, please make me come.”

“Of course you fucking like that shit.” He scoffed, making you whine.

“Please, Jackson!” He pushed down harder on your neck, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Last chance.” He said lowly.

“Please, sir! Please make me come!”

“Good girl… No.” You let out an anguished cry at the denial.

“Please!” He was fucking you brutally now, his hips smacking your ass with each thrust and his cock punching the breath out of you everytime it was forced deeper inside.

“You can fucking wait.” He hissed, voice getting more and more breathless. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me? Come when I tell you to?” He cooed, his tone significantly gentler now. You whined, torn between wanting your long awaited pleasure and wanting to be good for him. “I know, baby. I’m so close though, can’t you just wait a little longer?” You nodded with a whimper, watching him smile through your peripheral vision. “Atta girl.” He said proudly, making your walls flutter around his length. He let out a choked moan at the feeling, then leaned up and removed his hand from your neck to spread your ass apart for a better view of his cock stretching you. You whined loudly when he spat on your hole, adding more lubrication even though you were already doing a good enough job of that on your own.

“God- you’re so fucking easy.” He groaned. “Praise is what does it for you, huh? Just need to be told you’re a good girl and you get all dumb and pliant?” You whined loudly, burying your face in the sheets to hide your blush.

“Pathetic.” He spat, letting go of your ass to grab your hips and thrust even faster.

“Fuck— sir, please.. I don’t think I can hold it.” You whimpered, fisting the sheets and trying to will your orgasm away.

“I know, princess, it’s okay. You get a cock in that sloppy little cunt and you go all brain dead and come hungry… You poor thing.” He cooed mockingly, bringing you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead and come, baby. You can let go now.” He said softly— a harsh contrast to his rough thrusts. When you didn’t come immediately though, he got impatient.

“Go on, needy fucking slut. Come on my cock- prove that you’re nothing more than a brainless little whore.” The knot of arousal in your stomach snapped almost violently and you sobbed out a moan when your orgasm finally crashed over you. His thrusts barely even slowed, not deterred by your walls spasming around his length.

“Jesus— fucking…” He hissed. That was the only indication you got that he was affected by this. As your orgasm finally started to fade, it was quickly replaced by a more painful pleasure when he continued.

“Sir- sir, wait,” You choked out, trying to move up the bed to get away from him. He fell over you, completely flush with your back, and kept rutting into your sore hole desperately as he chased his own orgasm. “Fuck— oh fuck, it hurts.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut to try and focus on something other than the overstimulation.

“Shut the fuck up already.” He spat, moving his arm in front of your body to place a hand on your neck, squeezing hard enough to cut off any kind of sounds you tried to make. You clawed at his arm, your head starting to feel swollen and your eyes falling shut from a lack of oxygen and blood flow. “You can breathe after I fucking come.” He growled, ignoring your choking and your gasps for air.

“God- you’re so much hotter when you can’t fucking talk.” He groaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he focused on his impending orgasm. You were genuinely starting to worry that you’d pass out before he came, but just as your eyes grew too heavy to keep open and your hearing muffled, you could faintly hear him groaning as his hips stilled, occasionally bucking into you. He released your neck and you gasped and wheezed, heaving in large gulps of air as your head rushed with the sudden blood flow. Now that you could actually focus on other sensations, you noticed how hot your walls felt with his come inside you.

“Fuck— you didn’t use a condom.” You rasped, letting your head fall onto the bed, too tired to hold it up.

“I don’t fucking care.” He said, almost amused.

“…Me neither.” He chuckled breathlessly and rolled off of you, laying on his back. You turned your head so you were laying on your other cheek, wanting to face him. His eyes were closed and he was lightly panting, and you couldn’t help but notice how pretty he is.

“Stop staring.” He mumbled, making you smile.

“Why?”

“Because it’s creepy.” Despite his words, the corners of his lips just barely turned up into a smile.

“Do you think it’s been long enough yet?” You asked, turning on your side so your neck wasn’t bent uncomfortably anymore.

“Not even close. I’m just catching my breath before round two.” He glanced at you with a small smirk, making you roll your eyes with a blush.

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