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alotofpockets · 25 days

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Meeting again | Part 1 - Part 2 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Where you take your son to Leah's book signing and you reconnect with your high school friend/crush.

Thank you @totaly-obsessed for letting me bounch ideas off of you for this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.7k

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When you check your phone after waking up, you see a text from Leah. Her name amongst your notifications instantly brings a smile to your face.

Leah: Hey, good morning! Can I pick you up at 11 for that coffee?

You text her back instantly, no longer being scared of messaging her, after you’ve spent the evening together last night. After doing some stuff around the house, you get ready, and wait for Leah to pick you up.

At the coffee shop Leah went to order for the both of you, while you found a spot to sit. You were admiring your surroundings, when Leah headed your way with two cups in hand. “No coffee for you?” Her placing a mug with hot chocolate down in front of her peaks your interest. “Oh, yeah, I don’t drink coffee.” She says with a shy smile. “Why didn’t you say so when I asked you out for coffee? We could’ve gone somewhere else!” Leah shakes her head instantly, “Don’t worry about it, I was happy with the invite to see you sooner, and this place has the best hot chocolate in town.”

You fall into conversation with Leah just as easily as you had done yesterday. With years to catch up on, there were enough topics to keep you talking. Though, even if you had fully caught up with Leah, you think you’d still find topics of conversation to get to stay talking to her.

The first time you got quiet for a moment was when Leah said, “I’ve been trying to piece together how we stopped being friends all those years ago.” Your eyes fall to your lap, it had been your fault that the two of you stopped being friends. You wish things would have been different, but then again, you would not have Liam. Liam meant the world to you. “I remember us being really close, and then some rumours spread.” Your eyes meet her nervously. You noticed a slightly hopeful look behind her eyes, as if she was never fully able to understand what happened back when you were kids. So, you took a deep breath and started talking.

“Okay, the rumour, the one where it spread around the school that I liked you, was never actually a rumour.” Leah’s blue eyes pierced into yours. “Oh?” A part of Leah felt relieved that those almost moments between the two of you growing up weren’t just in her head. “Yeah, basically I confided in Maria, one of my best friends, about my feelings for you, because they were confusing me. You know as a teenager finding out that the feelings you’re meant to be having for a boy, you are feeling for a girl.” Leah nodded in understanding. “Well, she was apparently very homophobic, and decided to tell the whole school. I stopped being friends with her instantly, and you know the rest. I got together with Ryan to get people off my back, and put distance between the two of us. I think I even convinced myself for a moment that I could be straight, but yeah that’s not me.”

You let your eyes meet Leah’s again, there was no anger or hurt behind her eyes, just softness and understanding. “I am truly sorry about how everything played out, and if I hurt you in any way, that was never my intention.” Leah reaches for your hand on the table and gives it a soft squeeze, “You have nothing to apologise for. What Maria did is truly terrible, and I wish I could’ve been there for you at that time. All of that is in the past now though, and we cannot change it.” Her hand stays on yours. “You’re right, we can only focus on the future.” The blonde smiles and nods. “Well, that was a lot deeper than coffee would have gone, but I’m glad we were able to talk about this.” You both laugh. “I should really head back though, I have to pick up Liam from school in a bit.”

Leah drives you back to your place, and the two of you share a hug when you arrive. “Thank you for today. We should do this again sometime.” Leah says, and you agree instantly, “Yeah, I’ll text you later?” And you did. After Liam went to bed that night, you were texting back and forth with Leah all night, until you fell asleep with the conversation still open.

The next time you saw Leah, you and Liam watched her play on Sunday. You were rather far from the railings, but Leah found you amongst the crowd and set the both of you a wave when the match was over.

Since Liam missed Leah for dinner the first time when he had invited her without your knowing, and it got you to reconnect with Leah, you decided to invite her over for dinner that night with the both of you. You decided to make pizza together, since you found out that alike your son, Leah’s favourite food was pizza. Leah was amazing with Liam, you admired the two of them as they were busy chatting, while decorating their pizza’s.

While you sat down for dinner, you talked about your plans for the week like you always did with Liam, but now including Leah. You had always found it important to know what was ahead, especially since Liam was at his dad’s for half of the week. You had given Leah the honours of talking about her week first as the guest, she told you about her work schedule, and some other things she had planned for the week. Then Liam wanted you to go next, so you shared your work schedule, and your plan to spend your days off with. Liam wanted to finish off the round, he told you about his plans with Ryan, and what he knew about school. “Oh, and mom, what are you doing for the class tomorrow?” Your brows furrowed in surprise, “What do you mean, bud?”

“It’s your turn to do the class trip tomorrow, do you not have anything planned?” Liam asks in a worried tone. “Buddy, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know anything about it being my turn.” He stood up from the table and you were instantly worried, luckily he came right back with his backpack. “Here, Miss Owens sent this out.” He hands you a letter, informing the parents of the switch in schedules, and it did indeed show you for tomorrow. “Buddy, if this is still in your backpack, I have not seen it yet.” Realisation hits him, “Oh mom, I totally forgot to give it to you. What are we going to do?” Leah, who had been quiet during the interaction spoke up, “I think I might have an idea. I know it’s not my place, but I think I can help, may I?” She looked at you for permission. “Yes, please, I do not have the right connections to take a class out for the day this last minute.”

Leah got up, “Alright, I am going to make some calls and I will make sure you will have a great day tomorrow, I promise.” She told Liam. She headed into the other room, and started planning away. About thirty minutes later she got back into the kitchen, “Alright, everything is set for tomorrow. I will keep it a surprise though, are you both okay with me coming to class tomorrow?” Liam instantly said yes without giving it a second thought, his friends would finally believe him when he said that he knew Leah Williamson. You nod as well, “Thank you so much Lee.” Leah’s heart started beating faster at the nickname she hadn’t heard from you in such a long time. She smiled and sat back down for dessert.

The next morning Leah was at your door bright and early. You were busy packing Liam’s lunch when she knocked on the door. “Liam, can you get the door bud?” He came walking into the kitchen pulling Leah behind him, “Mom, Leah still won’t tell me what we’re going to do.” You smiled at the scene in front of you, a frowny kid, and a smirking Leah. “Don’t look at me, Leah went out of her way to arrange this for you, so let’s allow her the one rule she set in place for this.” He let go of her arm. “Fine.” He turned to Leah, “I am grateful that you did whatever it is that you did for me, I just would really like to know what it is.” She put her hand on his shoulder, “I know kiddo, just a little longer, I promise it will be worth the wait.”

You and Leah wait outside of the classroom, while the teacher starts out the day. “Thank you again for doing this, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Leah shrugs, “You would’ve figured it out, you’re a great mom. I am glad I could help though, I hope the kids like it.” Leah zipped down her jacket to reveal her Arsenal jersey. “By the looks of that, I think the kids are going to love what you have in store.” Leah is about to say something back, but Miss Owens tells you the class is ready for you.

The two of you step in, and you see the jaws of many kids in Liam’s class drop. “Hi kids, as many of you know, I am Liam’s mom. Today, I have brought someone special with me. I would like you all to meet Leah Williamson.” You introduced her to the crowd, “Hi, I’m Leah, and Liam told me you were looking forward to doing something fun with the whole class. What would you say if the Arsenal players bus was waiting just outside of the school?” The class erupted with excitement. “Would you all like to go and see?” Miss Owens calms down the class again before heading out, “Jackets please, and wait in a line outside of the classroom.”

Leah takes the lead and takes the kids to the players bus. At first they admire it from the outside, where the whole class takes a picture with Leah. Then Leah invites them to sit inside, once all the children are settled, Leah gets on the microphone and starts talking to the kids, and interacting with them. “So, who wants to go to The Emirates Stadium with me?” You couldn’t believe that Leah pulled all of this off in thirty minutes. She sat and talked with the kids, while you talked with Miss Owens.

After a short tour, Leah guided the kids to the family and friends area of the stadium. “What do you all think of one more surprise?” The class starts cheering again, and right on queue, a group of Arsenal girls walk out. Katie McCabe, Lotte Wubben-Moy, Beth Mead, Vivianne Miedema, and Kim Little, greet the kids with waves. They all have a little meet and greet with the kids, before it is time for them to head back to school. Leah thanked the teacher, and waved bye to the teacher and the kids. Since it was already the end of the school day, and she wanted to show Liam some more behind the scenes things, she asked the teacher if it would be alright if she took the kids back on her own, with a promise of getting her some signed copies of her books for her own kids she agreed.

Liam was living his best life hanging out with his favourite players, like they were friends he had known all his life. Lotte walked up to you as you were watching him talk with the girls. “So, you and Leah go way back I hear?” You smile at her, “Yeah we do.” You and Lotte talk for a bit before she gets pulled aside. “It was nice meeting you y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you the past couple of years.” Lotte’s eyes widened when she realised what she had just said, Leah had just walked up to you, and her cheeks turned red instantly. “Sorry.” Lotte said before quickly walking back to the rest of the girls, and whispering something into Katie’s ear. The latter turns to you, “Mind if we show Liam around some more?” You shake your head and return your attention back to Leah.

“So, you’ve been talking about me for years, have you?” You didn’t think it was possible, but her cheeks turned even redder. While Leah was nervous, she felt like it was now or never. “I mean can you blame me? You are pretty hard to forget.” You’re the one with blushing cheeks now. Leah’s words hang in the air, and you feel a warmth spread in your chest. The way she spoke those words, makes you feel like maybe, she has felt the same way all along.

“The feeling is mutual,” You reply after taking a moment. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I mean how could I forget the girl that was always able to bring a smile to my face, even on my worst days? I think I already proved that though, by coming to most of your matches.” You both laugh at the last comment. “I’ve missed this.” Leah reaches for your hand out of instinct, “You laugh, your smile, and just having you around.”

Your heart is beating a million miles an hour, by the way she was looking at you right now. In that moment, when her ocean blue eyes stare lovingly into yours, you realise that perhaps the rumours, the misunderstandings, and the years apart were merely obstacles on the path to this moment right here. “I’ve missed you too, Lee. Remember when the other day we said that we can only focus on the future?” Leah nods, and rubs her thumb gently over the back of your hand. “I hope you’re a part of that future.” You nervously look up at her again.

Leah gave your hand a soft squeeze, “I hope so too.” Her smile grows bigger as she continues, “I’ve thought about what could have been with us so many times, but right now, all I want is to be here with you, and see where time leads us.” Your smile grows just as big as hers is, Leah had felt the same way about you all of this time. “Would it be inappropriate to kiss you at your place of work?” Leah pulled you closer by the hand she was holding, and moved her other hand to your cheek, gently moving her finger over the soft skin there. “I am not working currently, so I think that should be alright.” She leans in the rest of the way, and after all these years of will they won’t they, and what could’ve been, you finally felt her soft lips on yours.

A loud “Ahem” pulls you away from the blonde. You turn around and find Liam, Katie, and Lotte looking back at the two of you. Before you can say anything Liam turns to Katie and Lotte with a proud smile on his face, “I told you they would get together sometime soon!” Katie high fived him while you laughed, of course Liam had talked about your love life with the two people that were probably sharing Leah’s right back. Leah put her arm around your shoulder, and walked towards the group. “Who’s ready for some dinner?” Liam hugs you from your other side. “Mom, this has been the best day ever, can we please make it even better with McDonald’s for dinner?” You look around the group of girls left over to see if they’d be down too, when you get three nods, you look back to Liam. “Let’s do it.”

As you walk out of the stadium with Liam’s hand in your left, and Leah’s hand in your right, you couldn’t be more happy.

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buggachat · 10 months

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To be clear, I goddamn hated the finale on first watch. I was withering in my seat. My heart had dropped to my stomach. I had no fucking idea what I was watching in that final scene lmao

and then Adrien said "when Ladybug gave me the rings—" and I was like— wait. LADYBUG? LADYBUG STILL EXISTS?

I THOUGHT THE ENTIRE TIMELINE HAD BEEN REWRITTEN 😭😭😭😭 I THOUGHT LADYBUG AND CHATN OIR DIDNT UFCKING EXIST uNTIL ADRIEN SAID THAT I WAS SO SO SO SCARED

and then I realized, oh wait. This isn't a complete utopian timeline rewrite. This is just a timeskip of a few months and Mme Bustier is just a kickass mayor. In fact, she's only mayor BECAUSE it's still the same timeline. And then I realized, hey, wait, if they didn't rewrite the timeline, then how tf is Emilie casually there with no questions?

And then I realized she was wearing black. And Félix was there. And I remembered Amelie exists.

Basically, I went into the finale chanting to myself "it's okay, it's okay... they probably wont bring Emilie back... they probably won't rewrite the entire timeline permanently.... right? please....", even though I didn't actually expect it to happen, but just because I was terrified that it could. And apparently that fear actually got to me so much that I misinterpreted the episode as being everything I didn't want it to be... when... it actually wasn't that at all

anyway, all of this is to say, everything in the episode happens so fast that it confused and terrified me at first. And when I realized what had happened, my opinion went from "my year is ruined" to "oh. well. okay. kind of disappointing, I guess". And then I kept thinking about it, and the ending, and all that is set up and rewatching the scenes and all the loose ends still in place and.... i realized I loved it?

like, every time I think about this finale, I love it more. every time i rewatch a scene, I get a little obsessed. this episode went from my nightmare to actually really really cool to me, and I'm still kind of reeling from it

Basically, this is why I've been kind of passionately defending the finale— not because I think people who don't like it are """dumb""" or anything, I don't blame people at all for that, and I totally get the confusion. I was confused too. And I know I'm not the only one who went in preparing themselves for the worst, or went in with very specific expectation on what will happen, because this finale has been long awaited for so long. I think everyone was shocked with how it ended. I think most people probably startled at Amelie's face (it's so easy to forget she exists....)

Anyways, I started this post basically as an apology for if I seem too aggressive or defensive about the finale. Because I get it! I get hating it! I get being disappointed or frustrated or confused! Part of why I'm so defensive is because I have all the arguments so ready on the tip of my tongue because I had the very same argument with myself already 😭 So I'm sorry if any of my posts came off as too aggressive and in advance for any future posts that might. I promise promise promise I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for having bad opinions on the finale! I just think this episode is really cool and the fact I related to a lot of the nay-sayers makes it easy to feel so impassioned about it.

But this post is getting off the rails and I'm just gonna let it, because some of my regrets w my participation in fandom is that I find myself chickening out of actually talking about my thoughts on episodes a lot. I get kind of overwhelmed and overthink everything after I've posted it and I'm a shy person. But my inbox is closed and this is the season 5 finale and I want to ramble and ramble so I will allow myself this

Basically, I went in with some very specific expectations for this episode. We all know about the Hawkmoth defeat story. Many of us have read it in fics over and over again, it was teased in Chat Blanc, we all know what we expect, we all know our favorite beats from it.

And what actually happened....... met virtually none of those beats. (For me, at least).

Like, Adrien wasn't there for the final episode. At all. He was completely absent from the confrontation. He never found out his father was Hawkmoth. He got his rings, but he never found out he was a sentimonster. He is living in the dark.

Ladybug confronted Monarch... alone. Which is sad, when so much of the series is dedicated to the partnership of her and Chat Noir. Them against the world....... and Monarch was "defeated" with nary a Chat Noir in sight.

The whole entire "Gabriel is known as a hero" thing. I don't think anybody was expecting that. Absolutely shocking.

The fact Marinette would lie to Adrien like that. The fact she's keeping so much from him. The fact everyone is. SO MANY people in Adrien's life (Marinette, Plagg, Nathalie, Felix, Amelie, Kagami, probably Alya, maybe more I'm not thinking of....) are just... lying to him, now. He is so in the dark. He knows nothing.

But.........

I kind of like that I didn't predict nearly any of this. I like that it caught me off guard. I love how this show just completely baffles me at every turn, how it will present concepts and ideas to me that I've never read a fic about.

In retrospect, Chat Noir being absent from the final battle... makes sense. It actually makes a lot of sense, if I think about it, because... there is only one possible way that could've gone, right? Chat Noir would not be allowed to have the emotional implosion that he would have to have. This is devastating. This is SO devastating. This is the entire shattering of Adrien's entire world we're talking about, and Chat Blanc is the only real way for that to end. Adrien has an emotional implosion in front of Monarch, he gets akumatized, it turns into an emotion explosion, extinction event. The end. We've already seen it.

And........ even if it didn't end that way, even if he managed to avoid akumatization...... how could the finale satisfyingly end on that note? How could it end in any semblance of a "wrapped up" way, at the very start of Adrien's emotional breakdown? It couldn't. I wouldn't WANT it to. In retrospect, Adrien finding out his dad is Monarch and then.... what? The season ends on a close-up of him crying? The season ends with a time-skip to the new school year where they skipped his entire grieving period!? I would HATE that, actually. I would hate that. I thought I wanted it, but I would hate it. I would hate it so so so much.

What's kind of amazing is that the finale ended with Monarch being defeated.... but Adrien still has those realizations to make. He still has those betrayals to come to terms with. There is time for him to make these realizations, for him to come to these conclusions, perhaps one at a time, perhaps in a more controlled environment.... and that gets me far, far more excited for the seasons to come than an episode that tried to wrap it all up in the last 5 minutes.

Also, the reason Adrien didn't go to the final battle was because he feared becoming Chat Blanc. He didn't know the truth to it, didn't understand that literally, yes, that's what would have happened if he was there, even if he hadn't been under a nightmare curse. But he still knew. He still expected it. He willingly chose to sit it out, no matter how much he hated it, because he knew. And there's something kind of powerful to that, I think, of Adrien making a choice that is so unequivocally the Correct choice, even more than he realized. And the strength it took for him to make that decision...... damn.

As for the lies and the Gabriel statue? I... it's upsetting, but it's supposed to be. And I believe it. I absolutely believe it. I 10000% believe Marinette would keep the secret of Monarch's identity to herself to try to save Adrien the pain. I 10000% believe that the population could easily be led to believe a famous billionaire is a hero. I 10000% believe that Adrien would WANT to believe it. I 10000% believe Tomoe would take advantage of it.

And I can't wait to see that illusion crumble.

Also.... this is the beginning of The Lila arc.

And the Lila arc begins on........ Marinette telling the biggest, boldest face lie she ever told. The Lila arc begins on the most extreme city-wide illusion we've ever seen. It begins on such a huge fabrication and....

..... it's Marinette's lie.

............ and Lila knows that it's a lie.

I'm

!!?!?!?!

This is so fucking cool???? The irony here??? the deceit???? All these loose ends, all the possible confrontations, all the ways this could GO. I don't know where the show is taking this, obviously, because nobody ever can predict where this show is going apparently (and I love it for that), but oh my god. I'm imagining all the fics I could read about this. all the fics I could write. all the thoughts and scenarios that this finale has provided me with to daydream about as I go to sleep.

Adrien, going through the motions of life. Looking up to his father as a hero, despite the fact the last time he saw him, Adrien was sobbing, in tears, and cursing his name. Adrien, after all the abuse he was subject to, having to look up at a statue of his father and...... be forced to think that maybe he was wrong about his father. But he's not wrong. He WASN'T wrong. He just THINKS that he is. His father is going to continue to loom over his life in ways I never expected post-hawkmoth. Adrien's relationship with Gabriel has not ended, a new and terrifying and horrible new chapter of it has simply begun, and Adrien is still as manipulated by his father's ghost as he was by his father himself.

THAT'S. WILD!!!

also, Adrien now believes that MONARCH MURDERED HIS FATHER. Chat Noir now believes that his greatest nemesis KILLED HIS FATHER. CHAT NOIR, resident self-sacrificer, believes that HIS FATHER was a HERO who DIED FIGHTING MONARCH. Adrien thinks that maybe he should be more like his father— more like his father who died in battle. This is. Not Good. For Adrien.

And it's Marinette that started this. Well intentioned Marinette, who doesn't really understand the extent of the horrors. Marinette, Adrien's girlfriend, the person he trusts most. She did this.

And, I mean.... god. I totally get how this sucks for a lot of people, because it's objectively upsetting.... but I LOVE lovesquare tension. Season 4 is probably my favorite season for that reason alone (still mulling over if season 5 beat it for me). I love the relationship drama, I love that it's in character drama, I love how it fits everything we know about them sososo well, I love that it's horrible and it's terrible and it's awful and it's all because Marinette loved Adrien too much to want to hurt him.

I was worried no reveal would mean that season 6 would just be... what? adrienette fluff? not that I don't love that, but where's the drama? well. there it is. that's the drama.

I need to stop typing this. I know this is abysmally long and ranty and if you read all of this then I'm sorry. But I wanted to get some of my thoughts out.

But basically, I was expecting a lot of things for the finale.

In my best case scenario, it would somehow, miraculously tie up and address all the loose ends with Adrien's angst and character arc in two episodes.... and then end with me totally satisfied, ready to only half-heartedly watch season 6 like it was just a small dessert after the main course.

And I already described my worst case scenario (my first impression of the episode lmao)

But it wasn't that. I was expecting a series finale, but I got a season finale. And I love season finales. I love how they keep me wanting more. I love how excited I am for season 6, because in both my best and worst case scenarios, I honestly didn't expect to be. I love all the new ideas and thoughts and scenarios swirling around in my brain. And even if season 6 doesn't address some of the things I want addressed, I'm so excited to see the creative content in this fandom that DOES

#ml spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #ml s5 finale spoilers #ml re-creation #ml recreation #recreation spoilers #re-creation spoilers #I am SO SO SO SORRY that htis rant went OFF and I just rambled and rambled and I'm sure nobody will read this. however #sometimes I want to be silly. and my silly moment is rambling about my favorite show into the void on my tumblr #im not proof reading this so im so sorry if it's. um. all over the place and riddled w typos 😭 im vibing im vibing

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stairain · 11 months

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Wrong Move You're Dead.

Spencer was never shy about his obsession for you, but you don't know just how far he'd go to prove you belong to him.

Warnings: Switch Spencer, Possessive/Obsessive Spencer, mild mommy kink, knife play (only running against skin and tearing clothing), praise, scent kink, female oral, handcuffs, leg grinding, crying, he cums too quick.

WC: 3.5K

Your chest rose and fell as the cold metal of the chair sent a shiver up your spine. The skin of your wrists were being rubbed raw as the cuffs Spencer had placed on you tightly bound you to the arms of the chair.

Just as you try to escape once more, he walks in. His expression is stoic, and in his hands he holds a knife. The blade glistens in the faint light as he circles you, like a shark to its prey.

He was always one to get possessive whenever anyone talked to you, so it was no surprise that the second he had seen you talking to another man, he dragged you back home and made sure it wouldn’t happen again.

As he walks closer to you, you look up at him with pleading eyes.

"Spencer, baby.. Please let me go."

Your lover shakes his head, almost apologetically. His grip on the knife only tightened as he shook slightly, as if trying to control himself. As he speaks, his voice is shaky and gravelly.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I never would want to hurt you.. but you don't understand. I need to protect you because I care about you. I love you too much to let things get messed up. It's the same reason I can't let you have other friends.”

Spencer turns his back to you and for a short moment you lean your head back against the chair and silently curse.

“If I don't get you to myself.. that could lead to some serious problems. And I’m sure neither of us want that. You understand, right? Right?”

You swallow as he trudges closer to you, he lifts the knife and runs his fingers over the dull edge, as if to frighten you. His voice sounds desperate, almost like he was trying to appeal to that soft spot you have for him.

"Baby I'm serious. Let me go, and put down the knife."

He seems to ignore your words, just slowly walking closer and closer to you. “I will never hurt you. But I will never let you leave me. I would do anything for you, because I love you. I can't live without you. You mean everything to me. You are my life.

He gets a soft look in his eyes and his voice wavers as he speaks, his emotions getting the better of him as tears start to spring in his eyes.

“I would kill for you. If that's not true love, then I don't know what is.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head. It wasn't often he got like this, despite fitting into the role so well. Your breaths come out in shallow huffs as you try to reason with him.

"I won't leave you, Spence. Just–please, let me go and we can talk about this, alright?"

An evil smile spreads across his face and it makes you all the more nervous.

“Oh, trust me. I know you won’t ever leave me. I’ll make sure of it.”

He abruptly points the knife at you, and you shrink into yourself away from the blade. Your fear seems to only drive him on.

“But I need you to swear that you will never be with any other man, ever, as long as you live.”

You feel the tip of the knife press against your jaw, and there's a slight tremble in your skin. You can feel his heaving breathing against your face, and you try your best to look up at him. His curly hair falling in front of his face, the heavy huffs from his mouth making the locks sway between the two of you.

"I–I promise.”

Despite your confession, he doesn't move away from you, in fact, he begins to drag the knife lightly down your jaw, a sadistic smile plastered on his face. The shake in his hands allows for the blade to stagger against your skin. He pushed it gently to the side, so the flat side was flush with your sweaty skin. .

“You understand how important this is, right? If you make one mistake with this, it could ruin everything.”

His grip on the knife tightens, and he’s breathing so heavily that the metal of the knife is starting to fog up.

“You must promise to never, ever, ever think of any other man than me. You may never go out with a male friend. You shouldn’t even have male friends. You may never interact with a male in a way outside of business. I must always come first. Do you understand?”

Turning your head to the side so as to not get cut, he trails the blade against your skin. He's not pressing nearly hard enough to hurt you, but the cold metal against your face has you shuddering under his touch.

"You're my priority always, Spence. You know that." You try your hardest to say your words with a confident tone, but the break in your voice gives away just how terrified you are.

“Say it again. Say it again, baby, please.”

Spencer seems to be enjoying himself, making you feel so much fear. His tone is serious, and he doesn't seem like he'll stop until you tell him what he wants to hear.

“Tell me I'm the only important thing to you, and that I come first no matter what.”

As he speaks, he's slowly running the point of the knife to your chin. His grip on the handle only tightens as he watches with a wicked grin at the way you're trembling.

"Y-You come first no matter what, baby."

But despite the sincerity in your voice, his expression doesn't soften at all. He bites his lip for a moment before moving the tip of the knife to the bottom of your chin and lifting it a bit, so you're forced to look at him.

"I don't believe you." He says, his soft voice dripping with a cold and malicious tone as the look in his eyes darkens. Your heart pounds impossibly faster as he mutters these words to you, and it takes everything in you to not try and break free once more.

“Tell me, again. Tell me I'm more important than everything. No matter what it is, I come first. Nothing and no one will ever take priority over me.”

"You always come first, Spence. No one is as important as you are."

Your voice is uneasy, but he ignores your words. He’s moving the blade down your throat, the slight scratch has your breath hitching. As soon as he reaches the collar of your shirt, he gives you one last look before he's cutting through the fabric, beginning to tear the clothing that covers you. You gasp, and try to move away from him.

"Spence–stop it."

He lets out a slight laugh and drags the edge further down your top, the crude noise of cotton tearing filling your ears.

“It's too late to stop it, my love. It's already been done. Your collar’s already cut up, I can just take it all off and make you sit here with every inch of you exposed. How about that? Does that sound fun to you?”

His voice is borderline primal at this point, shaking with the primitive instinct to mark you as his forever and ever, and to never let you go again. You were completely and utterly his, and he planned on making sure you’d never forget.

You shake your head, but the arousal rushing through your body betrays you. As he drags the knife down your chest, ripping through your shirt inch by inch, you can't help the feeling of how turned on you were.

“Oh, baby.. Looks like I cut your shirt too much, you’re all exposed for me.. How could that be? I'm very, very upset.”

His tone makes it clear that he's being sarcastic. As the remnants of your top fall to the ground, absolutely shredded and torn to pieces from his actions, your skin raises with goosebumps as you're only left in your bra and pants. You look up at him and swallow, knowing better than to reply to him.

“You look so cold. I mean, you might as well not be wearing anything at all at this point. Why don't I just take this off too?”

His tone is taunting as he scrapes the blade against the lacy material of your bra. The both of you can see just how labored your breathing is, meeting the knife halfway in the air with each greedy breath of air you took.

"Spence, please."

Even though your words sound pleading for him to just let you go, you don't tell him to stop. You don't want him to. You rub your thighs together in arousal as he traces the wire of your bra with the knife.

There’s a shameful amount of slick pooling in your panties right now, and you just hoped he’d stop now to spare you from embarrassment when he sees just how much you’ve soaked through your underwear.

Spencer cuts the strap and watches you as it falls to the floor. His eyes never leave you as his hands skillfully make work of stripping your upper half, and your skin runs hot as his gaze doesn’t break, even for a moment. He knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly how to work you.

“God, look at you. This all for me?”

The cocky tone in his voice just spurs you on further, and you shake your head slightly. You had no other choice but to let him do whatever he wanted to you, just the way you liked it.

Once your breasts were left exposed to him, and you were surrounded by shreds of fabric, he backs away from you and drops to his knees. Your eyes follow him, and you subtly press your thighs together in attempt for the littlest bit of friction.

“You know, baby, you're very beautiful. I wouldn't have ever imagined when I met you that I would get someone this beautiful. And not only are you pretty, but you're kind. You're so sweet and caring, and you've helped me through so much.”

Spencer leans forward and presses his cheek into your clothed thigh, taking a deep breath. And as if a shark were to smell fresh blood, his pupils dilated almost immediately upon smelling your arousal and slick through your pants. His mouth parts in a silent moan and a burning hot blush washes over your face at the noise.

“Which is why I love you.. No matter what happens, I will never be able to replace you. I could never replace my dear, sweet girl.”

He takes another deep inhale and you can hear just how much he was filling his lungs with you. His eyes involuntarily roll back into his head and he sighs.

“You smell so fucking good..”

The otherwise forgotten knife lifts in his fist, and he takes the handle between his lips as his now free hands move to unbutton and unzip your pants. You lift your ass a bit to help him pull them off of you, and soon enough the moment you were dreading is face to face with you.

Through the mouthful of the knife, you watch as a cocky smile appears on his face. His eyes flash up to you for a short moment as he pulls your jeans down your calves and discards them. Taking the blade out of his mouth, he licks his lips once before he’s firmly grasping the weapon again.

The sharp tip presses against your hip, just barely above where the dainty straps of your panties laid. Spencer absentmindedly traces your hip bones with the knife.

“You know, maybe I should just keep you here forever.. All spread out for me, have your scent fill the room and make sure no one else gets to see you but me. How’s that sound?”

He gives you those dreaded puppy dog eyes as he desperately waits for your answer. You swallow and shake your head.

“No, baby.”

Spencer’s face falls almost immediately and he drags the knife down the strap, effectively slicing through it without a problem. Your eyes squeeze shut at the abrupt action, and he goes to do the same on the other side of your hip.

“Why?”

Your panties fall off your body with ease, exposing the soaked surface where your drenched cunt sat. You can hear the loud clatter of the blade hitting the ground, and you almost scream in relief.

His cold hands slither up your legs, then spread your thighs open to reveal yourself even more to him. As he parts your legs, the folds of your pussy are coated with slick. Stringy arousal connecting from your cunt and thighs that has him dizzy.

“I’m all you need. I’m all you’ll ever need. You don’t think the same?”

The man leans forward and nudges his nose directly on your clit, making your thighs clench and mouth drop in a soft moan. He breathes in your raw scent and lets out a guttural groan.

He presses a small kiss to your dripping hole before licking his lips and sitting back on his calves. He looks up at you needily, head slightly tilted to the side in confusion.

Your eyes quickly flitter to the discarded knife and you just pray he’ll keep his hands in his lap as they are now. He’s sporting a painful looking bulge. It’s straining against the fabric of his dress pants, begging to be freed and drained.

“Don’t you love me?”

His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes wide and waiting. You sigh and extend your leg out so it’s nudging against his erection. His breath hitches at the stimulation, and he can’t help the way his hips hump against you.

“I do love you, baby. But you can’t keep me here forever, you know that.”

Your tone is comforting and warm, trying your best not to upset him now. He doesn’t protest, too engrossed in what little pleasure you’re granting him. He moves his body closer to you once again, your leg still slotted between his thighs as he comes face to face with your cunt.

“Love? Do you think you can let me out of these cuffs?”

Now that he had seemingly calmed down a bit, it was worth a shot to ask. He cranes his neck up a bit to look at you, and looks to the side for a moment as if to contemplate it. With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small key.

He’s quick to free you from your binds, hands trembling as he pulls them off of you. His voice is quiet when he decides he wants to speak.

“I’m sorry, mommy..”

You twist your wrists to get the blood flowing back through them, and you shake them out for a quick moment before you reach out to run a hand through his messy hair. You card your fingers through his locks as he looks up at you in apology.

“It’s alright, baby. Just–please listen to me next time, alright?”

The calf he’s nestled upon presses closer to him, and his lips drop in a gentle whimper. Spencer nods and starts to grind himself against you as he leans forward and licks a broad stripe up your cunt.

His hands snake around your thighs to spread them open and hold you down as he begins to licks and suck at your folds and clit. Loud moans soar from you as he tastes everything you have to offer him. He’s letting out small whines, not only from the taste and smell of you, but also from the way he’s getting off by humping at your leg like some pathetic dog.

With each thrust of his hips, he’s rubbing the weeping head of his cock against the rough fabric of his pants that’s stationed right against your leg. He’s already dangerously close, but he wouldn’t stop until he was positive he had drunk up everything you gave him.

His large nose bumps against your sensitive clit, while his long hot tongue slithers into your hole. It scrapes against the insides of your walls, letting you gush on the muscle as it licks over every surface it possibly can.

The hand in his hair twists as your grip tightens, urging him closer to your core, despite being so deep inside of you already. He’s noisily slurping at your sopping cunt, swallowing down each little spurt of slick you offer to him. Incessant moans spill from his mouth, vibrating against your folds as he pushes himself closer and closer over his edge.

“You’re doing such a good job, baby..”

He tries his hardest to hold himself back, but as he relishes in your praise, the push of his hips only speeds up, and the friction is simply too irresistible for him. He lets out a pathetic whimper before his entire body stills for a moment. Shaking his head against your thighs, he whines into your cunt.

“No, no, no.. Fuck–Fuck I-I’m sorry, mommy..”

Spencer’s voice shakes and his eyes involuntarily cross in his skull as his orgasm makes him fill his boxers with his thick warm release. You can feel the warmth of his cum spurting against his garments, and stroke his hair.

“It’s okay baby, It’s okay..”

You try to comfort him in which he just shakes his head. His lower body is twitching unceasingly, and you can feel hot tears spill from his eyes, running down the expanse of your inner thighs.

As he cries into your core, you bite your lip and try to pull him back to comfort him more. But he stays glued to your thighs and cunt as he sniffles and speaks.

“P-Please.. Please let me make it up to you, I’m so sorry.”

You can do nothing but give him a shaky nod, relaxing against the chair as he dives back down and plunges his tongue right back into you. The feeling of him fucking you with his mouth has you keeling over him, hands gripping his thick locks, lifting your ass off the chair to grind against his nose.

His tongue swirls around against your deliciously drenched folds as his lips encompass your pulsing clit. You throw your head back against the top rail of the chair and squeeze your eyes shut. His premature orgasm seemed to only fuel him, wanting to make you cum on his tongue and scream out for him and only him even more than before.

Spencer’s chin is absolutely drenched at this point, you were so wet that it was dripping down his neck and soaking his skin. Through his ministrations to your pussy, you could feel just how desperately he was begging for you to give him what he wanted so badly.

As his tongue pistoned in and out of you like a jackhammer, and with how he relentlessly sucked at your clit, you knew you could only keep your composure for so long. When you look down you almost choke on your moan, he was already staring at you. Wide hazel eyes boring into your figure like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

And you are.

Your gaze never tears from his, your eyes locked in on each other as he shoves you towards your orgasm. Through a broken whimper and slur of praises, you’re bursting in his mouth. Streams of your arousal gush against his tongue, and he’s eager to swallow and drink down everything he can.

Spencer moans and tries his very best to guide you through your release, battling whether or not to gently coax you through your orgasm until you stop shaking, or to greedily suck on your folds until you give him a second helping of your juices.

Thankfully, he doesn’t go for the latter.

Your thighs tremble around where he’s buried between them, and the hand in his hair gripping for dear life slowly loosens as your moans begin to die down. He’s still attached to your clit like a man starved, and after a few minutes of him being latched on, you pull him off of you.

He lets out a small noise of discontentment of being interrupted, and you almost laugh at how positively soaked his face is. His lips glistening and nose shining with your slick, chin almost dripping with your release. Licking over his lips and wiping his mouth, he smiles up at you.

You push the fallen sweat covered hair out of his face as you even out your breathing. And he’s just about on the same boat as you, panting and chest heaving as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

“Feel like you’ve proved your point?”

You cradle his jaw in your wavering hands, eyes hooded and mouth dry. Spencer lets out a small huff of a laugh and sighs.

“Not quite yet. Your neck is far too empty for my liking..”

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #sub spencer reid #sub!spencer #sub spencer x reader #sub!spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #switch spencer reid #switch!spencer #dom!spencer #dom spencer reid x reader

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byechristopher · 4 months

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can u do a fic where chris and reader are dating but reader gets insecure because she sees all these old pics and vids of chris with this girl he used to be with but they talk about it and they say to each other they're in love for the first time this is bad sorry but i'm lowkey sad and need this

Trust Me.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.

Author's note: Hey there, thank you for the request! Now, I didn't know how to bring up the old photos, so y e s, I used snapchat memories (happened to me, so..). I hope you like it either way. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: None, sliiight angst. Did not proofread!

Usually, I'm not one to stare at people, but when it comes to Chris, I can never resist, even when he's doing the simplest tasks. We've only been dating for a couple of months, and while I wouldn't label myself as "obsessed," I find myself captivated by him.

My thoughts are interrupted by Chris (not that I mind) as I sit on the pavement, and he bends over to gently kiss the top of my head, his hands cupping my cheeks. I smile and grasp his hands, looking up at him to see his beautiful smile.

"Beautiful day today, huh?" he says, sitting down beside me, his head tilted back, soaking in the sunshine.

I gaze at him, appreciating the way the sun highlights his curls, makes his skin glow, and brings out the pink in his lips and the icy blue of his eyes. God.

"Yes, very beautiful," I chuckle, joining him in looking up at the sky, letting the sun caress my face as well.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" he smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him so that he can press a kiss on my cheek.

"Yes, yes. Can I play that game on your phone?" I grin, knowing he is not able to resist that and he chuckles, giving me his phone.

"Here you go, babe."

He leaves and I immediately unlock his phone. I want to start the game but a notification from snapchat pops up and I accidentally press on it. I roll my eyes because it is one of these "memories" thingies, it said two years ago.

When it opens, my stomach drops. A few pictures and a video of Chris and his ex girlfriend are under this notification. I know I shouldn't feel anything but I do. Especially when I see how tightly he's holding her, the way he looks into her eyes. The video is my last straw – he's cupping her cheeks while pressing kisses all over her face, saying over and over again how much he loves her. He sounds very genuine. He's never told me he loves me. Ouch.

I quickly close the app and lock his phone, not in the mood to play any of the games on his phone anymore. I can't fathom my emotions – perhaps because I've already fallen for him, and the fact that he might not love me just yet triggers an unsettling feeling within me. Not a positive one.

I go back inside the apartment because I am not in the mood to enjoy any type of sunshine either, so when he's done and he doesn't see me there, he gets confused.

"Babe? Where are you?" his shouts reach me, and I take a deep breath, wondering whether I should tell him anything or just leave it be.

"Hey, I'm up here." I say, standing on top of the stairs as I look down at him.

His smile brightens and he starts walking up the stairs to meet me – he's got a fresh hoodie on now, his hair is damp and the fact that he looks like the cutest human being on earth doesn't help with the fact that I want to cry.

"Why'd you leave? I thought you wanted to stay outside for a while," he questions, pulling me close for a kiss.

"Yeah, just not in the mood," I shrug, failing to force a smile before heading to the bedroom.

"Babe." he follows, concerned, "is there something wrong?" he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"No.. just.. everything's fine." I realise how stupid I will sound if I say anything so now I am just stuck with my mood swings.

"You know you can tell me everything, yes?" he gets on his knees right in front of me as I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, placing his hands on my thighs and giving them a small reassuring squeeze.

I look down at him, then down to my fingers, really considering telling him now. With a small sigh, I cover my face with both hands, "I accidentally opened your snapchat memories." I say, really getting embarrassed now, "and it was you.. with.. yeah."

I can hear him sighing as well, knowing what I'm talking about, but he doesn't say anything for a while. Instead, he grabs my hands gently pulling them away from my face, bringing them both close to his lips so he can kiss them.

"Baby.. you know this means absolutely nothing now, right?" his voice is so sweet and gentle, like honey, it makes me want to cry.

"I know.. please, I just.. I don't know why I'm feeling this way." I know exactly why I'm feeling that way but I would never tell him that, he'd be so uncomfortable. Especially if he doesn't love me back just yet.

"It's normal, I think I would feel the same way if I saw you with your ex." he nods, still pressing kisses to the palms of my hands, "but you need to know that you're the only one I see. For a very long time now." his eyes look sincere as he makes sure to keep eye contact with me no matter how much I avoid it.

I don't say anything, I only nod – he gets up and quickly picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his waist as he sits at the edge of the bed with me in his lap this time. His hands touch me everywhere, my thighs, my waist, my back, my hair – his touch is feather-like, it feels dreamy.

"You know, baby.." he speaks with his gentle voice, "..I might not talk about my feelings as much as you do, but that doesn't mean I don't feel as much as you do." he buries his hand in my hair, his lips close to my ear, pressing kisses there and on my cheek.

I don't have the time to say anything because he continues, "I'm very, very bad when it comes to expressing my feelings, I think you know that by now." he chuckles a bit, making me smile a little bit, "but what I'm feeling for you, I don't think I've ever experienced before." he says and I don't want to get my hopes up but my heart definitely does something, "the moment I saw you, I knew. And that scared me. The fact that my heart felt something, by just looking at you."

I pull back just a bit to look at him, his hands now cupping my cheeks, caressing my skin, "and still to this day, even after all these months, I still feel the same way I felt when I first saw you." he presses his forehead against mine, kissing my lips every now and then, "I am.. madly in love with you, baby." he whispers and I almost widen my eyes.

"What–" only this word comes out of my mouth but I want to grab him and kiss him and tell him a million things. But nothing else comes out and my heart starts beating fast, like crazy.

"Yes. I am sorry if it's too soon for you. But I wanted to say it to you since like.. the first month. I just didn't want you to think of me as a weirdo.." he chuckles and I chuckle, too, "and anyway, you know I don't necessarily like expressing my feelings but sometimes it is necessary for the both of us."

"I am in love with you too.." I smile, my arms wrapping around his neck to bring him even closer to me, "and I have been for a while now." I whisper against his lips.

"Shit. You're doing it again.." he whispers, his smile so big, "the thing. My heart." he whispers again and I laugh softly.

"Stop. I love you." I say and my heart feels at peace.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around my waist again, hugging me close before kissing me again, "I love you too."

336 notes · View notes

rhadamanthes · 2 months

Text

The chosen one. demon!Toji x reader

word count : 3,5k

warnings: reader is kinda dumb, oral f receiving, face sitting, choking (very light), mention of spanking, horns tails and inhuman attributes, breeding, biting, obsessive behavior, clueless reader kinda, scent kink, soft toji, fluff,

You close the door behind you, happy to be finally home. You quickly take off your shoes making your way to the bedroom you stop in your tracks seeing a man looking out the window. At first you freeze and take the nearest weapon type of object you could find. But then you remember that you made a complaint about the window not properly closing in your bedroom so that must be the handyman that came to fix it! Odd that he's already inside before you but whatever if it means that you wouldn't feel the cold air seeping through at night you don't care.

"Hello! Are you here to fix the window? Did you find the problem?" you say in a cheerful way.

"Get out" the man answers in a stone cold voice not even facing you.

You freeze at his tone but don't take it personally. Some people hate presence around them when they work and you understand that

" Sure i'll leave you to it but can you just tell me if you find the-" "Get out of my house" he repeats louder not even letting you finish your sentence.

He's facing you now and the color of his eyes strike you, a deep green that reminds you of emeralds. Analyzing the rest of his face you notice the scar on his lips and his slightly tanned skin. He sure is handsome but his rudeness puts you off. And then his words hit you "his house" what did he mean by that you moved in a couple of weeks ago to get closer from your workplace. Looking around you recognized your personal items, so you didn't enter the wrong door. What the hell is happening?

"Huh i think you're mistaken I live here" you laugh nervously. One of his hands goes to your neck applying light pressure on it. You close your eyes shut, scared of what's coming next. But nothing happens and his hand is so warm it almost makes you want to moan. When you open your eyes again you gasp in surprise, the man before you have changed in a blink of an eye. Horns are now adorning his scalp and a grey veil has fallen upon his eyes but you still clearly distinguish the rich color of his orbs. This doesn't even feel real , is it a prank ? Standing on your tippy toes you touch his horns with your index finger to make your mind up. It feels like wood under your skin they're as black as his hair but glossy "Oh my god real horns". He dashes backward at your touch if you weren't so close you would have missed it. He is so fast. He looks surprised from your act, his eyes are wide.

"Sorry did that hurt, I was just curious I'm sorry" you blurt in embarrassment.

"Just get out." He growls.

You see something moving agitatedly behind his back, focusing you realize it's a tail as jet black and glossy as his horns.You don't have the time to make another observation that he is pushing you to the door. You dig your feet in the ground balancing your body weight back to stop him as best as you can. He growls still pushing you. Damn he's strong as hell. in a last attempt to reason him, You turn around looking him in the eyes.

"How can this be your house? I've been here two weeks and it's the first time I'm seeing you!" you say trying to sound menacing.

If you believe your eyes this guy is most likely a demon or another cursed celestial being that you are not aware of and he is clearly overpowering you so you better start to put your game on.

"You think i'd show myself with all these stupid movers going back and forth?" he tones angrily "No one has ever stayed this long" he says diverting his gaze from yours.

"Wait so the water damage was you?" he nods "and the power outage?" another nod "the window?" you ask defeated slumping your shoulders. He almost looks guilty nodding once more.

"Why did you stay through all of this?" he asks genuinely curious.

You let out a long sigh " This is working for me. It's close to work and the neighbourhood is nice. It's the best apartment I've ever lived in by far so a few technical difficulties doesn't seem like a lot compared to what I had before." You take his hands in yours shivering at the warmth again "Look I'm sure we can make this work, I'll arrange a bed for you and I'll leave you to your occupations whatever they are" you say hopeful, not being sure what demons do in their free time.

"And what makes you think that I want this ? I've been living here for more than 20 years" he scoff

This makes you wonder how old he is, his kind sure not age the same as human "Wow that's a lot of sabotage" you say, still not fully grasping what's happening. A smirk crosses his lips at your words.

"Fine I give you one week if I'm not satisfied by then you'll be out."

You squeal in excitement hugging his large body. The heat that emane from it is surreal but once again horns and tail so you don't mind. He is quick to push you away hissing in a cat manner before disappearing down the corridor.

✿ ۪⋆

You passed your trial week with flying colors ! Living with a demon was not as terrible as you thought it would be. He's calm and mostly roams around the house at night. You tried to see what he's doing when he's up but he always senses your presence and stops when he knows you're around. It took him 8 days to reveal his name : Toji. A beautiful name and yet he always seems surprised when you call it. Through the course of your roomating you learned that his demon attributes are most of the time present, You asked him once if it hurts when he hides them and he just gave you one of his dead stares that constitute an answer on their own. The difference is his eyes, they're not always in "dark mode" as you like to call it, the veil only appears when he has strong emotions. You find it cute but will never tell him he'll kick you out for sure or worse. Having him around made your day significantly less gloomy, sure he is not talkative and doesn't contribute a lot to the chores of the house but knowing that he'll be here when you cross the door makes you feel lighter. It's like having a pet. You chuckle at that thought locking the door behind you. Time has passed now and it's been almost three month since you first moved in. You could say that he warmed up to you, a routine installed itself. As soon as he hears the door click he comes to greet you in his own way. He takes the coat from your shoulder and sniffs it in various spots. The first time he did this you didn't know how to react just staring dumbfounded. Then he told you that he could smell another demon on your clothes and ever since you've been trying to figure out who could be one at your workplace. Today is no exception.

"Have you found it yet?" he asks, hanging your coat, you shake your head negatively. He then proceeds to dip his nose in your clothed collarbone. He goes down to your chest under your arms and down to your rump.

"Toji!" you squeal pushing his head out of your body "Stop doing this, seriously" you say trying to sound strict but you're all frustrated from his proximity.

"Your period is coming" he says with a sly smirk, his tail swishing slowly behind him.

Heat rises to your cheeks and you rush past him to hide in your room.Sitting on your bed and saying to yourself that you need to sit down with Toji, set boundaries and be firm with him. He actually listens to you, sometimes you go on and on about your days. He sits attentively making witful comments. The only problem is that he distaste being told what to do. You let your back hit the mattress, a sigh escaping your lips, maybe you need a bath first to relax before confronting him.

Robe in hand you enter the bathroom, you gasp upon seeing Toji in all his devilish glory lounging in the warm water. His head is laying back, his large body hidden in the water while his tail rests on the side of the tub. His eyes are closed but you distinguish a smirk playing on his features. The anger bubbles up in your chest, you stomp your feet on the floor.

"Toji! I told you to warn me when you use the bathroom!" you yell losing any ounce of patience you had left. His tail taps against the tub showing his annoyance, he always does this he even spanks you with it when he's mad at you for something you did or said.

"You're very unpleasant today, did something happen at work?" he says, yawning.

"I had a long day and I just want to relax so get out."

"Uh uh I just got in you better join if you want to get cleaned up" he states rolling his head your way to look at you.

In defeat you put your hands over your eyes, when did he become sassy ? The colocation was great this far, you're too tired to argue and you'll never earn his respect if you bend to every of his whims. Making a quick work of your clothes you throw it in his face to blind him while you get into the tub. The warm water engulfes your naked body, you're able to relax, still holding your knees close to your chest, hiding your breasts. You close your eyes unwinding at the soft sound of the water hitting the sides of the tube.A swirl of waves tickle your body, you open your eyes. Toji's back is now facing in your direct eyesight, you never noticed how many scars litter his body, you kind of feel bad, even if he's a demon he never hurted you, and even appears friendly from time to time. Did people of his kind do this ? or was he mistreated amongst humans ? Is it the reason he isolates himself ? Before you can ask your questions he shakes his head left to right like a wet dog. You understand his silent request, applying shampoo on his scalp mindful of the horns on top. The more you rub circles motion the more you hear a faint vibrating noise coming from him, is he purring ? You accentuate the pressure and it gets louder. You stop your movement, shocked at your discovery, that's so cute! His tail wraps around your wrist urging you to continue. You oblige, going for a few more minutes before you let your head rest on his back, tired of holding your hand in the air, he is so much taller than you ! Sticking your ear to his skin , from this close the sound you heard earlier is more like a fire crackling. That would explain the body temperature.

Washed and dried you tend to your skincare routine while toji lingers in the bathroom. His towel hangs low on his hips, you can't help but wonder if his devil attributes apply down there. Heat rises to your cheeks. You try to focus on which product goes to your face next but you only think about seeing him naked now. you close your eyes, biting your lips. A familiar churn grows in your belly you haven't got laid in so long you're about to act up. When you open your eyes again, Toji is right behind you, the veil has fallen upon his eyes, you turn to face him concerned as to why it appears now.

"Are you o-" "I can smell it" he cut you off. You gaze at your hand "The cream ? yeah it's a botanica-'' He cut you off again but this time it's because his head is crooked in your neck he takes a big sniff out of it like he's scared you would disappear. He tries to go down again "Toji! i already told you to-" "You're excited, i can fucking smell it" he reply looking in your eyes.

You're mortified just standing in front of him exposed, at your depravity. Of course he would smell your arousal, he smells other people on your clothes, so your own scent won't go unnoticed. He's bent over you, eyes wide, tail buzzing behind him like he's ready to pounce on you. And he does, locking firm arms around your back you're engulfed in his chest as he breathes in your scent from your temple down to your shoulder groaning in the process. Suddenly he lifts you on his shoulder rushing through the door. He crosses the corridor fast and drags you to his bedroom. He dumps you on his bed and you look around, he never allowed you in his space before. It looks like a nest, it's dark, the bed is in the middle of the room. Clothes are laying on the ground and they're forming a spiral around the mattress. You recognize some of yours that you haven't seen in a long time. You furrow your brows not sure about what's happening here.

"Toji what's all of that" you say in a meek voice. He closes the door and rushes to join you on the bed "It doesn't matter hm it's just you and me" he says caressing your sides.

You nod your head hypnotise by his behavior, his voice so deep and calm he's touching you with care he almost looks high, is it his state when he's horny ? He must really want you, but you want him to so you don't care. Placing your hands on his cheeks you initiate a kiss. You go slow at first testing the waters, and he follows. His lips are softer than you expected, you move against them in a soft waltz before you let your tongue enter his wet cavity. You lap at his muscle but freeze when you notice that there are two you break the kiss parting his lips with your thumb. He sticks it out revealing a forked tongue. You gasp incredulously, touching the tips with your index. There's so many things that you still don't know about him, but for now you need to find out how it feel against your clit

You untie your robe in a hurry, a devilish smile spreads on his face as he admires your naked body, he lodges his head between your tits licking at the skin, his hands busy themselves kneading your breast. Your head falls back at the sensation his skin is so hot against your own, a content moan escapes your lips. Straightening his back he lay on the mattress ushering you you straddle his face, you waste no time encasing his face with your thighs slowly putting more and more weight on him. When your pussy lands on his face you moan in relief, he nuzzles against it, licking at your fold never touching your sweet spot. Starting to feel impatient you grab on his horns pulling lightly. He groans, letting the tips of his tongue tickle your clitoris, you exhale loudly, his muscle feels rough against your sensitive part, his tongue doesn't glide on your folds, it sticks like scratch tape in your most sensitive area, the repeated motion builds tension in your belly. If you weren't so desperate you'd be ashamed to be ready to cum this fast but you need it so bad, you start grinding on his face holding on his horns. You close your eyes feeling your orgasm on the edge of a release.

"Toji don't stop" you breathe erratically

He lays his tongue flat against your clit as you keep humping it until your orgasm crashes over you. You're shaking uncontrollably and you feel like the air has been taken out of your lungs. you slowly regain your breath while toji bites at your inner thighs. You pet his hair and he pins you against the mattress extending his tongue to lick your cheek. He can do that too ? you grunt in both amusement and disgust. Positioning himself on top of you, he free his cock from the towel and your jaw drops. Not only is he big but the sides of his penis are rigged with bumps. You swallow hard not knowing if he is going to fit inside of you. Toji laughs at your reaction.

"Want me to go down again?" he coos, patting your thighs with his tail.

You shake your head standing on your elbows. Is it weird if you want it to hurt a bit? You want to feel the stretch and every rig. You've already cum once and you're so excited it should be okay.

"Then relax i don't want to mate with a wood board"

Hurt at his words you're about to snap back at him but he captures your lips with his. Laying your back on the cover he licks and kisses your temple, his hands kneading your shoulders you feel like a trapped mouse.

"Relax, hm not going to hurt you on purpose" he murmurs against your skin.

Tired of his banters you lock your arms behind his neck and bite on his shoulder as hard as you can. He moans loudly letting his weight rest on your body, you feel his cock against your tummy as he starts to rut against it, your teeth sink deeper on his hard skin. You push on his shoulders looking at him in the eyes.

"I want it please" you beg shamelessly.

"I know it, you smell like a depraved minx" he smiles. You cringe at the nickname looking away

He sits back on his feet, positioning your legs on his shoulders. He caresses them a few times nibbling on the skin of your ankle. He takes his length in his hand slowly entering your hole, your mouth opens at the sheer size. You extend your hand begging for support. Toji intertwinds his fingers with yours and you relax when he's all inside of you. The tears in your eyes are ready to fall at any given moment. He pins your other and next to your head crooking his nose in your neck folding you in half as your legs rest on his shoulders. The demon starts slow movements grunting in the comfort of your walls, the wetness allows him to glide easily. Your mouth is open letting out pained noises that turn into moans when he hits your soft spot. the rigs of his dick kiss perfectly your gummy walls. you let lewd moans escaping your mouth not caring about the neighbor when you feel so good.

"Better than your toys ?" he rasp looking at you through veiled eyes.

The humiliation settles in and you turn your head to avoid his gaze. You indeed have a drawer full of toys but he wasn't supposed to know. his tails prod at your chin to redirect you his way. You look at him through teary eyes.

"I- I've never been fucked like that before" you stammer

He grunt in response going impossibly faster, weakening your spot with every thrust. The familiar sensation builds in your lower part again and you cry desperate to earn it again. You kiss and nip on his cheek as a silent plea, his tail snake between your bodies to massage your clit. Your back arches off the bed at the double stimulation. You chant his name over and over until your vision blurs and your legs spasms around his head. Toji hiss as your walls clench around him through your climax. You lay limp on the bed squeezing your demon's hands encouraging him to finish. When he does you gasp once more, at the amount of cum he is tainting your insides with. You're both catching your breath and he lays next to you.

"So you wanted to talk ? Or you just needed to be stuffed to stop being moody"? he purrs.

You don't have the strength to answer, you hit his chest lightly. He catches your hand grazing his teeth softly against it. You fall in a deep slumber with a satisfied smile on your lips. On his side Toji can't keep his eyes off you. All of those times he heard you pleasuring yourself he wanted to burst in and take you there and then; But he couldn't it was too early instead he would dig through your hamper and collect your dirty clothes. Now that he has you, covered in his scent filled with his seed, he has all intentions to make you the centerpiece of his nest.

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yanderehsr · 6 months

Note

Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to take breaks every now and then! 😴

Unto the request, can I please request yandere high cloud quintet (Jingliu, Jing Yuan,Blade and Imbibitor Lunae) finding out that Baiheng had a descendant before she perished, that descended being the reader who bears a striking resemblance to her. I can just see the 4 of them being obsessed and overprotective of the reader.

-I just recently watched the cutscene for Jingliu’s companion quest and its so top tier

3 hours is plenty of sleep, sometimes I even get 4🥴

And I knoooow, that cutscene was truly top tier��

Hope you'll enjoy😁

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Jingliu: Baiheng was her biggest regret, and now that she sees you who not only is her descendant but also look just like her, how could she help herself but to feel protective against you, and not only that but to possess you as well.

Jingliu's Mara-Struck mind makes her even more possessive over you, she can't help but fall into instincts around you even with her high resistance against the mara. She knows it's wrong, horrible of her even, but she has to admit, you look so pretty when you cry for her.

"Don't move, don't make me repeat myself... Baiheng would be disgusted with what I'm doing to you, but I can't find myself to care right now, you're mine and you will need to accept this"

Jing Yuan: He knows about you, he always had known about you as well, you are his secret, something he wouldn't even share with the rest of High-Cloud Quintet, you look so much like Baiheng that it's ridiculous. He has known you for so long that he doesn't even see Baiheng when he looks at you, he instead thinks Baiheng looks like you instead.

Jing Yuan hides you away from the world, what happened to Baiheng will not happen to you as well, you are locked away at his home, he treats you like you're above him, probably due to his guilt about Baiheng, he will guard you, you are safe with him and nothing will ever befall you, least of all death.

"It's almost uncanny how much you look like her... *sigh* Anyways, what do you want for dinner today, I'm cooking"

Blade: He doesn't see you as a descendant, no he thinks you are Baiheng, nothing can convince him otherwise. He never adresses you by your name, he always calls you Baiheng cus that's who you are, he thinks you have just lost your memories but that's okay, he will always be around to remind you of who you are.

Blade calls you that so many times that you may believe him yourself, I mean how can you know about what you have forgotten, and reincarnation is a thing that happens so maybe you really are Baiheng. Blade doesn't care what you think you are, all that is important is that Baiheng is back and you are all his.

"I am so sorry Baiheng for the past... but you are here now... yo-you make me feel whole and alive again, never leave my side ever again, okay"

Imbibitor Lunae: When Dan Heng is like this he starts to remember his past life a bit more clearly but there is one thing he can remember a bit clearer then others, he can remember Baiheng's face, and in turn he recognizes your face as soon as he sees you. Imbibitor Lunae knows that this isn't Baiheng but he still went to talk with you, you looked just like her, he couldn't help himself.

Imbibitor Lunae finds you to be a joy to talk to, not only that but he finds you beautiful as well, a look he has only caught in his dreams now stood before him, he can't help but fall, and he falls deep and hard... he wonders if he can convince you to join the express, otherwise he might need to use... unpleasant ways to get you onboard.

"You look heavenly, like a deity... isn't the view from the express lovely, I hope you'll get used to it, you will be seeing it a lot in the future"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere male #yandere female #yandere jingliu #yandere jingliu x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #yandere imbibitor lunae #yandere imbibitor lunae x reader

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arabellasleopardcoat · 15 days

Text

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

233 notes · View notes

lollytea · 3 months

Text

Therapy

(Wrote this in five hours without stopping. Nothing fancy. Maybe sloppy and unpolished. Bon appetite???)

"Leave it alone, Darius," Hunter snarled, slamming down his chisel and wooden shape on the desk as he whirled around to face him.

"I'm doing a load anyway!" Retorted Darius, one hand gripping the laundry basket against the hip and the other holding a graphic tee with the solar system printed on it. "You know it bothers me to walk in here and see dirty clothes tossed all over the floor."

"I can do my own laundry!"

Hunter internally winced at his tone the second it burst out of him.

He sounded like the cranky, whiny child that he had once been, always gnashing nonvenomous teeth in an effort to be taken seriously.

Being treated as a child was one of his most explosive buttons. And the worst part was that if pushed, he always acted up in a way that proved them right.

He reeled himself in, filling his lungs to steady his wrung nerves before turning back to his work.

There was a pause.

"I know you are," said Darius, his voice softer than it had been a moment prior. "But considering you've been letting it pile up for the last few days, I figure I'd lend you a hand."

"I don't need a hand." Hunter took furious chunks out of his hunk of wood. "I'm gonna do it myself. I'm just....busy. Right now."

Hunter was "busy" a lot lately, leaving things such as laundry overlooked, as he focused on one obsession after another. Darius referred to his bouts of productivity as "manic episodes."

It was preferable to the other half of the time when he went borderline unresponsive. Those days weren't fun.

He heard a fwump, which was presumably the sound of Darius dropping the shirt back on the floor.

"Ocellena called," He said.

Hunter's rough attempts at whittling went still. "That's...the therapist's name, right?"

"Yes. Your first session is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. 3pm."

"Right. Okay." Hunter intoned. "Thanks."

When he offered nothing else, Darius pushed a bit.

"I know you're scared."

Hunter wanted to hotly declare that he wasn't. But he felt like the blood of a lie would seep through his words. He said nothing.

"But you haven't been doing well, Hunter."

He wanted to argue that he was actually doing awesome. But Darius was a lot better at arguing than he was, so he'd probably just end up looking stupid.

"And I promise that this is a step in the right direction."

"I said I was sorry," Hunter found himself uttering in a quiet, scratchy voice.

There he was again, that whiny difficult child inside of him. And in that moment, he had touched Hunter's throat, letting out one final plea to be forgiven.

He didn't know what he expected to happen.

Maybe deep down, he desperately wanted Darius to soften up and say to him, "Oh Hunter, what am I thinking? I shouldn't send you to therapy. You don't deserve that."

Darius said nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighed. "You have nothing to apologize for,"

Hunter felt fingerpads gently drill against his temple. "How do I get that through your stubborn skull?"

His insides writhed with empty dread.

So, apologizing was worthless in this case. Noted.

Before Darius left the room, Hunter's hair was affectionately ruffled. He slid his eyes shut and savoured the feeling.

Every day for the last few months, Hunter was handled with such gentleness by the people around him. It had become so frequent that he had come close to taking it for granted.

He once caught himself wondering if maybe one day he'd forget how it felt to be treated.....the other way.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be anytime soon.

Hunter was, quite possibly, one of Bonesborough's most insufferable roommates. The number of times Darius and Eberwolf were awoken at untitanly hours by the sound of him suffocating on his own serrated screams was embarrassing.

The memories still seared raw and achey, nowhere close to scabbing over.

He couldn't forget.

And now, he was about to experience it all over again. But for morally correct reasons this time.

Hunter exhaled, irritated by the way it rattled. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

There was a persistent gnaw of guilt in his abdomen that he was doing his damndest to ignore.

He did not want to go to therapy. But he knew he'd be a coward to admit that.

This was supposed to be a noble thing, right? Atonement. He was supposed to be owning up to his mistakes like an adult. But, being faced with the imminent appointment made him feel more like a spineless child than ever.

"Do you know what therapy is?" Darius had asked a few weeks ago when the topic had first been broached.

His tone made made Hunter bristle. He felt patronized. Nothing made him shrink in humiliation more than being confronted with the fact that he still didn't know a lot of things.

"Of course I do!" He snapped, not bothering to mention that he had only learned of the concept a few days prior when Steve brought it up in conversation.

"It's so chill, dude," He had explained. "It really made me reflect on all the bad stuff I did as a scout, y'know? And now I feel like I can finally move past all that business without the ol' baggage wearin' me down."

"But what is it?" Hunter prodded. "What happens in therapy?"

"Well it's...y'know,"

Hunter frowned, impatient. He did not know.

"It's just you and them. In a room together. Alone. And...you talk. About stuff..." Steve shrugged airily. "It's just that, man."

The last words Steve uttered sounded like they were underwater because Hunter had mentally blipped out after hearing the words 'In a room,' 'Alone' and 'talk'

His blood had frozen over.

Steve's wrist was promptly squeezed by Hunter's jittery fingers. And when the older scout curiously met his eyes, he said solemnly, "Steve. You don't have to go there."

Steve smiled his pleasant, lopsided smile. "I want to, Hunter."

His voice was so soft, so sure of itself, that a heavy weight of devastation unloaded in Hunter's stomach.

"Sure, it's scary at first." Steve continued, giving Hunter's knuckles a comforting rap. "But over time....it helps."

And then, he said the words that Hunter selfishly wished he had never heard.

"I go to therapy, and I think I'm now a better guy than I used to be."

The rest of the interaction had fallen flat because Hunter suddenly felt very disconnected from his body, and Steve could not reel him back.

He remembered the curt businesslike knock on the door of his castle bedroom. He knew it as the sound of guards delivering a message. A slip of paper from the Emperor himself, requesting his presence in the throne room. To talk.

He remembered the soft-spoken echoey order once he entered.

"Close the door,"

Hunter would obey. And then, they were alone.

'In a room'

'Alone'

'Talk'

Hunter knew how to read between the lines.

He felt stupid. Naive. They had told him that the things Belos had done to him were wrong.

They promised him that it was wrong.

But it seemed as though Hunter had severely misunderstood.

The actions themselves were not wrong, but the reasoning.

Hunter did not deserve to be punished for failing to carry out the dirty work of a vile, depraved man.

Every punishment was undeserved by default, on the grounds of it being delivered by Belos.

But Hunter, idiot that he was, had foolishly believed that he was never going to be hurt like that again.

And if he was, he would at least take comfort in the fact that it was wrong.

The realizations were crashing over him in overpowering waves. He felt pathetic for not being able to take it.

I'd like to leave the Emperor's Coven and never set foot in that throne room again

I go to therapy, and I'm now a better guy than I used to be

There were people on the Isles who hurt you and....and it was right...?

You face the consequences of your actions, and you allow them to hurt you in a way that was ethical, and then....you were a better person.

Of course.

Of course that was how it worked.

How could he possibly believe it worked any differently?

It had struck him the moment Steve had said it, that nobody on the Isles deserved therapy more than Hunter.

The actions of the Golden Guard had been unspeakably cruel. All the times he had stood there, turning a blind eye, as his uncle tore open a living creature. All the carnage Hunter had allowed to happen directly in front of him.

It was borderline brainless of him to ever assume that he could escape consequences.

He desperately wanted to be a good person. He would start ripping his own innards out if it meant he could be deemed a good person.

He'd do anything. Really.

Which was why he had decided to steel his nerves and agree to therapy.

He would walk into that room and his legs would not shake.

He would tilt up his chin, close his eyes, and stomach the consequences he had earned.

And then, Titan willing, he'd be one step closer to being good.

And yet...he would rather be dismembered than admit it, but...

Hunter was scared. He was scared to receive his punishment.

After everything he had done to innocent lives, Hunter had the audacity to be scared of the punishment.

He disgusted himself.

_______________________________

With the Emperor's Coven dismantled, the vacant police precinct currently had a plethora of uses.

Most notably, it was a research facility that Darius frequented. The current project was working on a safe sigil extraction procedure. Hunter gave Darius a headache by asking for updates every damn day, despite the latter's insistence that it would probably take years to perfect.

But today, when Hunter visited the building, he and Darius did not turn right towards the lab, but they ventured down an entirely foreign hallway.

Hunter was doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady.

"Would you like me to sit in the waiting room?" Asked Darius.

"No," Hunter answered.

They continued to cut through the hallway in silence.

"Yes," He corrected himself, so quiet he worried Darius wouldn't hear it.

He did hear it. "Alright. I think we'll pick up some fatty junk from the market for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

Darius hated fatty junk.

Despite the terror teething his insides, Hunter's lip still quirked upwards, feeling the tiniest surge of warmth.

He loved fatty junk. And Darius knew it.

His therapy session was not the end of the world. Life would continue afterwards, and there would still be little pleasures.

And he would be a better person than he was now.

Once Darius checked him in, Hunter tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, debating whether he wanted to pick up one of the trashy magazines on the rack.

According to the front cover of one of the tabloids, a star grudgby player had an organ eating scandal. Typical tabloid stuff.

"Hunter?" Called a soft, docile voice that nonetheless made him glad he didn't eat breakfast because he wanted to puke.

Darius tapped his knee to signal him to stand up, which Hunter did. He managed to not cave in.

He crossed the waiting room and pushed the door open, pretending that he wasn't experiencing alarming flashes of hands and eyes and dripping green blades.

He was ready. He was going to be a good person.

"Hello, Hunter~" Singsonged a small pudgy woman, who was in the process of donning an ankle length cardigan. Occellena. "Do you find it chilly in here, by any chance?" She asked.

Taken aback by the question, Hunter dumbly shook his head.

"Guess it's just me, then. It's a curse. Cold blooded n' all."

She had a head of plump indigo tentacles, and her bright amber eyes were magnified by jar-like spectacles.

"Well, let me know if you catch a chill and I'll turn up the heater."

The heater in question was a crystal ball the size of an ottoman with a blazing flame contained in the glass.

Occellena swept across the room to where Hunter stood and put a hand to the door. "Let's just close this and we can get--"

As far as he was aware, he did not do anything. But something made her take pause, and when she glanced his way, he felt himself jot.

"Or would you prefer to keep it open?"

The question initially escaped his comprehension. It seemed out of the realm of his own reality.

Hunter's throat tightened. And when he tried to speak, he failed.

He nodded again.

"Okay!" She said cheerily, like this was the best thing she had heard all day.

Out of the thousands of tangles in Hunter's stomach, one of them spread loose.

It was faint, but he distinctly felt the way that tangle relaxed itself.

"So, we'll leave the door open for now," said Occellena. "And if you decide at any point that you don't want that anymore, you can just pop right up and give it a swing shut."

Defenses still scaling high, Hunter had no idea what to make of this.

"Anyway," She made to walk towards her own chair, politely beckoning him to follow with one of her tentacles. "Shall we sit? I recently got a new couch. I'd really like some feedback on how comfy it is."

_______________________________

Darius would never say it, but his heart was hammering like a jackalope with worry for that ridiculous kid. His legs kept crossing and uncrossing in the waiting room chairs that seemed specifically designed to be uncomfortable.

Darius had bumped into Occellena on a few occasions in the upstairs kitchen. He had spiked his apple blood while she grounded oyster shells into her tea. He had never been one for chit-chat, but she had been nothing but bubbly with him, in spite of his less than enthusiastic responses.

He couldn't determine her skills as a therapist from just a few conversations, but the extensive research he had done to find a qualified candidate had promised that she was highly competent

But was she 'Golden Guard as a client' competent?

Was anyone?

If all else failed, she was sweet. Hunter loved sweet people.

He needed this to go well. If Hunter had a bad therapy experience, it would both stunt his recovery progress and leave him far less willing to try again for the foreseeable future.

Darius resisted the urge to stand up and pace the room, knowing his footsteps would probably disturb Hunter's session.

He noticed that the door remained slightly ajar, which he found peculiar.

Were they not supposed to keep the doors closed? Client confidentiality and all that mumbo jumbo?

Granted, he could not make out the words being said. The pitch of two voices, definitely, but it was all muffled nothingness.

His nerves were barbed during those first few minutes, in which Occellena carried on speaking for several seconds at a time, while Hunter only offered singular sentences as a response.

It was fine, he convinced himself. They were just warming up.

The moments passed, and the session seemed to take a turn in a positive direction.

The seconds in which the slightly lower pitched voice stretched a little bit longer every time he spoke. Louder too.

At some point, he seemed to take off babbling, presumably having one of those obsession buttons pushed.

Darius could only imagine that Occellena had asked about one of Hunter's many passions. That would certainly work wonders.

He had such terrible control of his own volume when he got too eager, so this was a promising sign.

After that, the conversation took a subdued dip, the silences hanging for longer.

And then, he heard footsteps. He straightened his posture, startled by the session seemingly wrapping up so soon.

But no. It was the door clicking shut.

From then on, total silence. Thirty minutes of just Darius, his trashy tales of organ eating athletes, and the vacant uncertainty of how Hunter's first therapy session was going.

And then it was over.

When Darius saw Hunter emerge from the room with Occellena's hand on his shoulder, his eyes were strikingly rimmed with red.

"So I'll see you next week. Don't worry yourself with telling Jewel, I'll have her put it down in the system. Be sure to take it easy for the rest of the evening, alright?"

Though he looked like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him, Hunter still pulled up a smile for her, and Darius recognized sincere warmth on that face when he saw it.

"I will. Thanks, Occellena,"

And when he approached Darius, he looked relieved, ashamed, and dazed all at once.

"Hey," He greeted, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey," Darius responded, softly incredulous. "Shall we go ruin our skin with your accursed bag of grease now?"

His reddened eyes glinted with light boyish amusement. He nodded.

Hunter did not say much during their quest through the Bonesborough marketplace, and Darius vaguely wondered if he should be concerned.

As much as he complained about the boy being an incurable chatterbox, his silence unnerved him.

Hopefully, the session had used up too much of his blabbering muscles.

It wasn't until they were home and seated on opposite ends of the dining room table that Darius understood.

One of his most strictly enforced household rules was that dinner must be served on an actual plate. No takeout containers allowed on his property.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the atrocity known as deep-fried eyeballs that were making a greasy mess out of his ornate lilac dishes.

Hunter was rolling the unsavoury little orbs around with his fork.

He seemed relaxed, if distracted, so Darius decided to pop the question, only to fill the silence, if anything.

"Do you want to tell me how it went today? With Occellena?"

Hunter's fork went still, but his eyes never dared to draw away from the fatty dinner in front of him.

When he opened his mouth, his bottom lip wobbled, searching for a voice that he did not seem to possess right now.

"It's alright," said Darius. "What happens in therapy stays in therapy. Isn't that what they say?"

Hunter did not respond to that, not even with a glance or a nod or anything of the sort.

He remained hung up on the struggle of getting his initial words out. The bump of his throat bobbed.

Finally, with a small, feeble voice that cracked around the edges, Hunter said, "I didn't think she was gonna be nice to me..."

The silence that fell was born of complete and utter bewilderment. Darius was so flabbergasted by the statement that he spoke before he fully thought it over.

"Well, that is to be expected from therapy," A touch of laughter rose and fell between the words. "I mean, surely you didn't think she would--?"

Darius cut himself off, his smile dropping as he noticed the visible tremor of Hunter's mouth, which he had forced into a thin line.

"Hunter?"

The boy lifted his head, bright brown eyes already pooling with an open, lost, childlike anguish. Then he blinked and it spilled to his cheekbones. He looked to Darius searchingly, like he wanted to ask something, but he could not utter a sound more.

"Hunter...? What did you think was going to happen...?"

234 notes · View notes

gorgeouslypink · 9 months

Text

The Illusion of Method (My AP "Guide")

Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I've been behind on finishing up my masterlist but I've been really busy. I was having a conversation with my friend @junfairykyu and I remembered this post and she said it really helped her and urged me to share it with you guys too! This post is to help people AP (astral project) but the same concepts apply for the void. I hope this helps everyone.

original link: here

Hello there,

In this post I want to share an epiphany I had a few months ago regarding astral projection which changed my approach to it completely. Once I understood what I am about to explain, the amount of OBEs I had completely skyrocketed, to the point I can astral project on demand. I later found I could apply the same rule to lucid dreaming, and I started to enjoy countless conscious dreams. So this is the story of how I got to the "core aspect" of astral projection, the key to induce it effortlessly on demand. I will start by explaining the conditions whereby I came to this "truth" or "top method", and then I will develop it a bit more to ensure that its understandable. I I hope you guys enjoy the post and benefit from it. That being said, let's start!

I have been having OBEs for a few years now. A few years in which I tried many astral projection techniques, and while some of them seemed to work better than others, I always had one single desire that obsessed me to the core: I wanted to understand what was the root technique, i.e. that background cause, shared by all fruitful OBE strategies, that actually separated consciousness from the body. You know, the skeleton of all techniques. It was the deepest of my fixations, and I was compelled to find out the answer to that, I knew there was a core method, it was undeniable: if many different techniques lead to the same results, then there was for sure some hidden and shared dynamic that, if emulated over and over again, it would always produce Out of body experiences.

But it was really hard at first to understand what this hidden method was, because I was conditioned by my own results. What do I mean by this? Well, if only one technique worked for me, then it would be easy to assume "oh, that's the true and only method". But I had successful results with a wide variety of techniques, so different from each other: from tactile visualization, up to affirmations and pure desire, the ear ringing technique (using the ear buzzing sound to project) , the WBTB and many others. The challenge was in finding the single thing that united such different techniques. It seemed almost impossible!

You see, at first I thought imagination was a core aspect, but I rapidly discarded that, because many techniques dispensed with imagination. So then, imagination wasn't necessary. I kept discarding things just like that, trying to reach the substratum. I eventually thought it was pure intention, pure desire. This made sense to some extent, because all techniques required you to think actively about projection, whether you do this by imagining you project, or state it via affirmations, or whatever. It seemed like I succeeded with stripping away everything unnecessary. But then I had an spontaneous projection, which messed it all up. Not that it was the first spontaneous OBE in my life. In fact, I had a few of those during my career as an astral traveller. I was just ignoring them. Pretending that they were not there. Right when i thought astral projection had to do with a burning desire or intention, I realized that some OBEs dispensed with intention completely.

I was so obsessed with finding the key to astral projection in those OBEs I induced myself, that I was screening out those that happened involuntarily. I don't know why, but I guess it made more sense to find the how-to in the techniques rather than in...and then my mind went silent. I reached something important: a point of no-return. I realized something embarrassing: I had the answer in front of my eyes, but I kept pretending there was a hidden solution. But via spontaneous projections, the message was clear: it is not that those "spontaneous" projections weren't induced by me. NONE of my projections were induced by me! Its almost as if my unconscious was trying to tell me, via spontaneous projections, something like; "hey! its me who does it, not you".

At that point I understood the following: there is no method. We can't induce out-of-body experiences, nor lucid awareness in a dream. We don't really know how it is that the projection of consciousness occurs, or how lucidity pops up. We just get to experience it under certain conditions. All we do, really, is asking for projections to occur, while meeting the most optimal conditions for them to occur. That's the reason why spontaneous projections are kinda unconfortable for many and we try to screen them out, because they are trying to tell us about the illusion of method, and we as humans need to cling on a certain "how to", believing we are responsible for phenomena to occur. But we aren't. It is "something else" (the unconscious, the higher self, or whatever you want to call it) who kicks you out of your body, or triggers lucidity while dreaming. And when it occurs naturally, we try to understand how we did it, instead of realizing it isn't something we did, and thus opening ourselves to that same gift.

When I understood that, I began to do the following (the "no-method" method), and it ALWAYS works: I just lie down in the morning (to ensure that I don't fall asleep), close my eyes and simply ask this "unconscious" or whatever it is, to induce an OBE for me. And then I evoke this feeling of TRUST. I trust him, I trust that it will do the rest for me, because I understand that every time my consciousness escapes my body, it is this kind of higher consciousness or being who does it, not me. And this feeling of trust is the way to get rid of responsibility; in giving away this need for control and responsibility for the experience to occur, you also get rid of anxiety, fear and other emotions that boycott the outcome. So then, i just allow myself to drift with that feeling of peace, KNOWING that it will happen and I don't have to worry about it. Every time I do this, I get an amazing out of body experience. I just ask "the universe" to induce an OBE, and allow it to do its job. This same "method" (now you see why I refer to it as the illusion of method: you really don't do a thing) also applies to lucid dreaming: I just allow my higher self or unconscious mind or whatever to trigger lucid awareness for me, and go to sleep happily, knowing that it will happen.

To sum up, the answer is not in the techniques. All techniques are rituals we create to convince ourselves that we are the architects of the out of body experience, but we aren't. By acknowledging the one who DOES induce these kind of experiences, we get ourselves out of its way, we allow it to do its job and our emotions and feeling of responsibility no longer boycott the results. It is quite weird, even ironic to some extent, but it is also a relief in some way. You realize that you were never doing it wrong, because you can't do it. None of us have the supernatural power to separate consciousnesses from their bodies, its absurd. That being said, allow yourself to experience the OBE state, trusting your inner mind, knowing it will do this for you.

Exempt yourself from this responsibility and enjoy!

UPDATE: If you enjoyed the approach given in this post or found it useful, I am excited to announce that I just released an AP book on Amazon called "The Illusion of Method", which is an in-depth expansion of this guide: https://www.reddit.com/r/AstralProjection/comments/pc3ipt/my_ap_book_the_illusion_of_method_is_available_on/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share

#void state

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