#the notes become more and more common after this

[aemonds-fire]

Tempest

Prince Aemond discovers his maid is frightened of storms.

Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Word Count: 3587

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, profanity, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, unprotected sex and fingering.

Author's Note: You can read this as a standalone oneshot or as Part One of the Tempest Mini-Series. This is a cleaned-up and revised version. This was the first fic I ever wrote, and it wouldn't have happened without @arcielee!

Hope you enjoy this! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

You are happy to be Prince Aemond’s maid. After several years working in the Red Keep, you've risen from the laundry to cleaning the common areas to becoming a maid for the royal family.

You weren't sure how to feel when you were assigned to serve in Prince Aemond’s chambers. At first, you were nervous, even a little scared, since you had heard the gossip amongst the other servants. However, you were glad you were not assigned to serve Prince Aegon; stories were plentiful regarding his drunkenness and lecherous behavior towards other maids.

Prince Aemond was much more of a mystery to you. Rumors circulated that the tall and imposing prince was best avoided. Disfigured as a child, the prince grew into an intimidating warrior. Everyone knew he spent hours training daily with the sword and shield and rode Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon in the world; the gossip in the servants quarters said he wore the eyepatch so as not to frighten the noble ladies. 

Thankfully, he wasn't in his chambers most of the time while you were working. The first few times you had direct contact with the prince, you were shaking and afraid to look at him, keeping your eyes downcast on the floor. Over the time you've served him, you've become more relaxed in his presence, mainly because he ignores you for the most part. On the infrequent occasions you’ve had to interact with him, you found him to be aloof, but mannerly. His demands are few, and he has never made you feel unsafe in his presence. 

Just like this evening, the prince is sitting in a chair facing a large, open window in his chambers. Dressed in a loose white shirt and loose-fitting trousers, you notice that he seems to be feeling the summer heat just like everyone else in the Red Keep. He only said a quiet greeting when he returned to his chambers earlier than usual. After changing out of his riding leathers, he simply poured himself a glass of wine and sat before the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

As you wipe the sweat from your forehead as you finish your tasks, you realize it is very dark out for this early in the evening. Glancing out the window, you notice storm clouds almost covering the capital. You watch a strong gust of wind enter the chambers, moving the heavy drapes, and you can see some of the prince’s pale hair moving with the breeze.

You complete the final check of his chambers to make sure everything is in order for the night. Once you are satisfied, you make your way towards the prince, who is now standing near the window.

“Is there anything else you require this evening, your grace?” you ask softly.

Just as he is about to reply, a bright flash of lightning streaks through the dark sky. You jump, startled, and a few seconds later you wince as a loud rumble of thunder makes you shudder.

Prince Aemond turns to you with a slightly amused look on his face. “Does the storm frighten my pretty maid?” He asks with a hint of a smile.

“Apologies, my prince,” you say with embarrassment, also taken aback by the prince calling you pretty. “Yes, ever since I was a little girl, I have never liked storms. Especially at night. I cannot sleep during a storm,” you reply sheepishly. 

“The storm cannot hurt you, especially within the safety of the Red Keep,” he tells you. “Come and watch the storm here at the window.” Aemond raises his arm toward you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

You are more than surprised by the prince’s behavior. He has hardly ever spoken to you before, except when necessary regarding your duties. You cannot help but notice his regal features. His silvery, blond Targaryen hair is long and straight. You find his angular face quite attractive, with his straight nose, sharp cheekbones, and strong jaw. You do not believe that even the scar and eye patch detract from his beauty.

You force your mind to quiet your thoughts about him and respond, "I should return to my quarters. I won’t be able to see the storm there, and I do not wish to trouble you with my silly fears.” 

“You are just as safe here with me as you would be in your quarters. Do you believe I would allow harm to come your way, hmm?” He asks. “Now come,” he insists.

Hesitantly, you walk over to stand next to him in front of the window. You immediately feel a strong breeze blow in, and you can smell the rain in the air. Another flash of lightning startles you, causing you to gasp and move closer to the prince. You can hear the first raindrops falling now, and soon a tempest begins, with thunder rumbling again.

Aemond laughs softly at your fear. He leans closer to you and says, “I will tell you a secret. When I was a young boy, I was also afraid of thunderstorms. Now I love them.”

You find it difficult to imagine that the lithe and muscular warrior prince was ever afraid of anything. You look up at him and ask, “How did you overcome your fear?”

One corner of his mouth turns up slightly with a smile. “One day when I was riding Vhagar, a squall rolled in much faster than I had anticipated. I was careless and should have returned to the city sooner. On my way home, I had to fly Vhagar through the storm. At first, I was worried when the rain started beating down on me, the wind was tearing at me, and there were flashes of lightning around me in the clouds.” 

As he tells you this story, you find yourself staring up at his face, entranced by his rare moment of openness.

He turns his gaze from the city to look down at you, his eye meeting your own. “Then I realized Vhagar was strong enough to ride through it with ease. Even a storm could not match the power of the world's largest dragon, and I felt invincible. That day I discovered there is no greater thrill than riding a dragon through a storm.”

The prince’s arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to him, causing a tremor to go through your body. You have always thought him handsome and not disfigured, as some called him, but he is royalty, and you are nothing but a maid. 

“Tell me, have you been with a man before?” Aemond questions you suddenly.

His question catches you off guard, yet you instantly grasp his meaning. You are not innocent about the intimate acts between a man and woman, but your experience is limited. Moreover, you know that this is something you should not do. You could lose your position for a dalliance with the prince, but you also know that you would regret refusing him for the rest of your life. 

“Yes, I have.” Your voice shakes as anticipation begins to build within you.

When you feel his fingers caressing the back of your neck, your breath catches in your throat. Despite his body's warmth pressing against you from behind, you shiver as the wind begins to blow rain in through the window. As the prince's touch and your fear of the storm overwhelm your senses, the next streak of lightning across the sky causes you to gasp out loud.

“My pretty maid, watch the storm; feel the wind and the rain,” he whispers between soft kisses. He brushes his lips against your ear as he removes the white cloth cap that covers your hair.

The city is at the mercy of the torrential downpour and gusting winds that are blowing rain on both of you. Another burst of lightning illuminates the sky, followed seconds later by a deafening boom of thunder.

You feel the growing hardness of his cock against your bottom, as well as his lean, hard body behind you. Heat begins to build in your belly and spreads across your skin.

“Do you want me to continue distracting you from your fear of the storm, pretty one?” He hums, his lips now kissing your neck, gently nipping and sucking your skin. His arms wrap around you, and his hands now move up to cup your breasts through your dress. You sigh as you feel your nipples harden under his large palms. With a soft moan, you lean back against his body.

Aemond softly bites your neck, making you gasp. You can feel warm wetness beginning to pool between your thighs. You are no virgin, but you have not been with a man in quite some time—only a short dalliance with a steward that you thought you loved once.

“Answer your prince, pretty one. You must let me know if you want me to continue. I do not take what is not given freely.”

With a storm now raging outside in the darkness and within your body, you plead with him, “Please don’t stop, my prince.” 

That is all Aemond needs to hear. You hear a low growl come from the prince’s throat, and then he whispers, “Sȳres riñus,” in your ear. You do not know what that means, but the sound of him speaking this strange language sends shivers up your spine. (good girl)

He quickly removes your apron and tosses it aside. After untying the laces, he tugs the red servant's dress off your shoulders, pushing it past your breasts and hips until it falls around your feet. Your thin chemise quickly begins to get wet from the rain blowing in, and Aemond gathers the light material, bunching it in his fists to give him access to your small clothes. The feeling of his fingers sends arousal through your body. You shimmy your legs to help the fabric slide down, kicking off your worn slippers in the process. 

Rain is soaking the front of your chemise. The cool wind and rain cause your nipples to pebble even more, poking through the practically sheer garment. He glides his large hands over your belly and back up to your breasts, cupping them and rolling your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, licking the raindrops off your skin.

As you brace yourself against his body, one of your hands clings tightly to his arm, while the other reaches around to hold onto his thigh.

You try to turn your head toward him, your lips seeking his skin.

“No, keep watching the storm,” he tells you.

Aemond slides his hand down your body to the place between your thighs. Your legs instinctively part slightly to allow him access to your most intimate parts. You feel his fingertips part your folds, feeling the wetness that has begun to seep out of you.

“Hmm, you're already wet for me," he murmurs in your ear. His finger finds that most sensitive nub and begins to circle around it, sending tendrils of pleasure through you. He continues to tease your nipple as lightning illuminates the sky. He drags a finger through your cunt to your entrance, then inserts the long, slender digit inside you.

As he works his finger in and out of your cunt, you begin to pant while he grinds his hard cock against you. Your body is now trembling with need. You gasp as he adds a second finger and rubs the palm of his hand over your stimulated bud again and again.

“Do you like this? Does it feel good, pretty girl?” Aemond asks in your ear. He sucks on your earlobe while he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your wet cunt.

You can only whimper in response, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Your hips move as you grind yourself against his hand. 

Aemond murmurs against your neck, “Your cunny is so tight around my fingers. You’re going to feel so good around my cock when I fuck you.”

The coarseness of his language and desire to have him inside you send pure lust through your body, and that is enough to make you moan in ecstasy, your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers. The speed with which he unravels you leaves you somewhat dismayed and embarrassed, as your legs shake and you struggle to breathe. Aemond releases his grip on your breast, holding you tightly against him with his lips pressed against your neck.

As the storm continues to pound the capital, Aemond pulls off the loose white shirt he wears, and you can feel him loosening the ties to his trousers. As he returns to the chair he sat in earlier, he brings you along. Aemond sits and pulls you down to straddle his lap, grasping the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

“I will be your dragon through this storm; ride me,” he says, his voice rough with arousal. A flash of lightning illuminates his face, and you see the desire in his eye. Aemond grabs your soaking wet chemise and pulls it up over your head, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

He lifts his hips to lower his trousers and frees his cock, painfully hard, with a reddish tip leaking fluid. You move your hips to cover his length with your wetness. When you feel him at your entrance, you begin to sink down on him, slowly taking his throbbing length inside you. Aemond groans with pleasure against your breast, his tongue lapping at your pebbled peak.

Grabbing onto his shoulders for support and feeling the stretch of his engorged cock filling you makes you moan softly. You pause for a moment to let your body adjust to his size. Slowly, you begin to move your hips back and forth, feeling the rough skin of his large hands gripping your hips. When he thrusts up into you, you cry softly.

Aemond’s hands encourage you to work your hips in a steady rhythm. You ride him, bouncing your ass against his thighs, each movement sending bolts of intense pleasure through you. He grunts softly with each slam of your hips, his fingers biting into your soft flesh.

“So tight,” he groans, licking the beads of moisture from your skin. “You’re taking my cock so well.”

Your fingers are digging into his pale skin, leaving faint marks. Panting rapidly, your thighs and his hands are working together, pushing you up and down, with each roll of your hips forcing the tip of his cock against the sensitive nerves inside you. The sounds of skin hitting skin fill your ears; it's depraved and desperate, and you've never felt such intense pleasure. 

As each new thrust reaches deep inside you, mewling whimpers escape your mouth between ragged breaths. 

He gazes at you, entranced by the sight of your bouncing breasts. A hand slides from your hip to move between your legs, his thumb finding your little bundle of nerves and teasing more pleasure from you. He lowers his eye to watch his cock move in and out of you, glistening with your wetness.

As you continue to ride his cock, you lean forward, your nipples grazing his skin and your foreheads touching. Your bodies are slick and glistening with sweat and rain.

Aemond plants his feet on the floor, leveraging himself to drive his hips up against you. He pulls his head back to watch your face, flushed with pleasure. Desire darkens your eyes, and damp tendrils of hair cling to your skin.

“Say my name, pretty one. Who is your dragon?” He orders with a raspy and strained voice.

“Aemond…it feels so good,” you whimper. Your thighs are burning from the exertion, and he moves his hand to grip your bottom, taking more control and giving you some welcome relief. His pace is intense, almost brutal, as he thrusts up into you repeatedly. 

You lean down, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on his cheek, before he captures your lips with another searing kiss, driving his length up into you at a rapid pace.

"My pretty maid," he murmurs against your cheek as his thumb furiously massages your bud, pulling you quickly to an intense peak.

“Yes, Aemond,“ you whimper as a burst of ecstasy spreads through your body. A wave of shattering pleasure trembles through you, reaching all the way down to your toes. The walls of your cunt spasm around his cock, squeezing him. 

“Fuck,” he curses, grunting with every thrust.

He continues to push up into you throughout your release, feeling your body shake against his. Your cunt's clenching begins to push him over the edge, making his thrusts more erratic until you can feel his cock twitching within you. As you feel the warmth of his seed begin spurting deep within you, Aemond buries his face in your neck, grunting and his breath hot against your skin.

You are both panting heavily. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you cling to your prince while he wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his, gradually coming out of your blissful state. The realization of what you have done begins to creep into your mind. A gentle kiss on your cheek and a sigh of contentment from Aemond calm you somewhat. 

He whispers softly in your ear, "Look out the window, pretty girl."

You raise your head and smile as you turn your gaze to the open window and see that the storm has passed, the rain is now just a gentle shower, and the wind has faded into a light cooling breeze. 

The two of you remain embraced with your arms around his shoulders, resting for a few moments, and his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck. You feel his softening cock slip out of you, and there is sticky wetness between your legs. 

Another cool breeze blows in, causing you to shiver.

“You’re getting cold,” he says softly. “Go and dress in the bathing room.”

He holds your arm steady as you lift yourself off his lap and get to your feet. You quickly begin to retrieve your clothes while he stands and re-does the laces on his trousers. 

You quickly clean yourself in his bathing room, dress, and try to smooth your disheveled appearance. Some of your clothes are still damp from the rain, but you can tolerate that until you return to your quarters. Once you feel presentable enough to walk through the halls of the Red Keep, you rejoin the prince in his chambers.

Aemond, still shirtless, with his long, straight hair falling midway down his back, is holding a cup of wine as he stands by the window, enjoying the cooler air.

You approach him with some nervousness. You have never done anything like this before, and you are hoping that you have not just made a serious mistake.

You smile shyly and ask, “Do you require anything else this evening?”

Smiling slightly, he comes over to you, setting down his cup on a nearby table.

He leans down and kisses you, cupping your head in his hands. It’s an impassioned kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you clinging to him. He continues to hold you close, resting his head against yours as if he does not wish to let go, even after he has ended the kiss.

With a sigh, he abruptly releases his hold on you and steps back. 

“No, I do not need anything else tonight; thank you,” he says quietly.

You're trying to gather your wits about yourself, and hope your voice remains steady, as you say. "Then I bid you goodnight, your grace."

As you start to turn to leave, he grasps your hand. "I will have moon tea here for you in the morning," he tells you, becoming the distant, stoic prince again.

The possible outcome of what you and Aemond have just done causes your breath to catch a little in your throat as you answer, “Yes, thank you; that would be most kind of you.”

Walking through the Red Keep and down to the lower levels where the servants quarters are located, you cannot help the various thoughts that are racing through your mind.

You are perplexed by the prince's behavior tonight, and you have no idea what prompted him to, for a short time, discard his usual aloof and even forbidding demeanor. The kiss before you left his chambers, in particular, puzzles you. It wasn’t a lustful kiss; it felt like something more, as if he was trying to say something without words.

You shake your head as you enter your shared quarters, glad that the young maid you share the room with is elsewhere at the moment. 

Undressing quickly, you lay your still damp chemise over a chair to dry and change into your nightdress. As you sit on your small bed, you remind yourself that it cannot happen again. If others found out, they would ruin your reputation and cause you to lose your position.

You are practical by nature and not given to silly dreams as some of the young maids are, but for once you set aside your concerns and revel in the almost intoxicating feelings that, for a short time, Prince Aemond Targaryen made you feel like you never have before and probably never will again. 

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[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

#aese speaks #spirit work #ghosts #talking to ghosts #hauntings #paranormal #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #this post is Super Basic #it was going to have More Details but like. it was getting TOO long yknow #so. this is uhhhh part one #ghost post series

[elicathebunny]

HOW TO REDUCE MALADAPTIVE DREAMING.

(suggestion post)

I have actually experienced this since the age of around 9 or 10 years and only managed to reduce and basically almost get rid of it after 5 or 6 years. I am no doctor or professional, so all of this is just by experience mixed with online research.

WHAT IS MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMING?

Maladaptive daydreaming is a mental health issue that causes a person to lose themselves in complex daydreams. These daydreams are usually a coping mechanism for other mental health conditions or circumstances. It's common — but not required — for people who have this to have a history of childhood trauma or abuse.

SYMPTOMS:

Extensive, sometimes compulsive, absorption in fantasy for several hours a day

Inability to stop daydreaming

Having very detailed fantasies, including plot lines and characters

Having real-life reactions to fantasies, like facial expressions, body movements, or verbalizations

Difficulty concentrating or focusing on other things

Sleep problems (especially falling asleep)

Replacing human interaction

The urge to continue fantasizing when interrupted

In some cases, maladaptive daydreaming can also be characterized by the need for additional stimulation, which can be expressed through extensive book-reading, watching films, or gaming.

TRIGGERS:

some of the triggers may include listening to music on headphones, watching movies, and hearing specific conversation topics.

In addition to processing trauma, other causes of maladaptive daydreaming include:

Wish fulfillment

Entertainment (regulating boredom or isolation)

Regulating distress

MY EXPERIENCE: I would spend hours upon hours with storylines that I have had for years. Those stories gave me comfort and I would get lost in the experience of daydreaming. I would even put on music to put myself deeper in my thoughts and would get irritated if someone ruined my thought process by speaking to me. I realised it was a problem when I began to randomly fall into my daydreams without much control. Simple thinking turned into detailed storylines and I would constantly seem lost in thought and lose track of time. This obviously isn't helpful when you have important things to do when you need to focus. I would try to stop daydreaming but would always catch myself doing it because it become normal to me. All the characters and scenarios in my head represented me parts of me that I wish I was in real life, or even things I wanted to happen in my life. Sometimes the dreams happened so frequently that I couldn't differentiate between my memories and dreams. Before I acknowledged it as a problem I never actually wanted to get rid of it, such a big part of me would be lost. I had been daydreaming for such a long time that I became emotionally attached to the characters I had made.

WHAT HELPED ME:

Doing things that take up a lot of brain power and time: e.g. Doing a workout, Dancing, or Solving a difficult equation.

This gives you 0 time to even think about anything, let alone daydream. Go out with your friends, and force yourself into situations that require you to use your full attention. Because I never really went out much or did anything frequent enough to take up my day, I had too much time to myself and became stuck in my own head. Doing things and picking up extracurriculars, ANYTHING will help.

Because I am no longer at home as much as I used to and interact/learn new skills much more than I did before. I simply do not have time to be in my own head, I forced myself to learn to get out of my head and achieve the things I would daydream about.

I am now engaging in improving myself instead of dreaming about the version of myself/life I wanted so badly. Those dreams and characters were just glamorised versions of deep-rooted emotions I had left without facing them. Uncovering the true meaning of why I daydream and the details of the things I was daydreaming about will help you get out of the daze.

NOTES I'VE FOUND ON QUORA:

ONE:

Open up. Speak about it to others. Express yourself. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You need not share your daydreams, just share that you daydream. It's okay.

Write your daydreams down, or type them out… whatever. Get them out of you to have a better look. They are trying to tell you something about yourself. Have you ever noticed that you can't completely control your daydreams? And when you do try to change something critical in your plot it just doesn't “feel right”?

Boil them down to mere feelings. Strip away all the illusory layers of good looks, grand mansions, heroic acts and so on. The truth lies in key moments where the characters feel something deeply for each other. Find those feelings, and question the difference between you and your characters. Ask what is blocking you from experiencing them for yourself.

Realize that you are the reality, not your characters. If you imagine a nobleman or a beautiful girl, it is your nobility and beauty that you impart to those. All your characters are merely objects animated by the light of your imagination and feelings.

Understand that all your daydreams have nothing to do with others, and everything to do with you, and your relationship with yourself. When you realize this, you stop comparing them with your real-world relationships and start relating them to various aspects of yourself.

Know that when you successfully come out of this, you will actually not lose the ability to daydream or run out of feelings to pour into your imagination. It is just that their purpose will have been served, and you will not resort to daydreaming again out of lack or compulsion. You may at any point daydream again and even use it as a tool to know what your Soul is trying to tell you. Yet, you will realize that a moment of self-awareness is more rewarding than a lifetime of daydreams.

TWO:

Here are some serious tips to avoid them:

First of all, make sure you really want to get rid of this, because a lot of MDers get emotionally attached to their imaginary characters.

Disable /avoid the triggers. Block YouTube if you have to. Those websites you visit. The images saved on your computer - delete them. Plenty of apps for that.

This might be rude, but start avoiding the topics or the friends who keep discussing these topics.

Get busy doing something else - take up a hobby, meet new people. Try to stay in public places or with other people. Plenty to do in life other than dreaming.

Avoid that one music/ song that acts as a trigger.

DO I STILL MD? Yea sometimes, but now It is an okay amount. It doesn't consume my life anymore.

#self improvement #maladaptive daydreaming #self growth #self help #self healing #self care #self awareness

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Fantasize (Cypher x F!Reader) Part 3

Summary: Part 3 to Fantasize. Read part 1 here and part 2 here!

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7,042

Warnings: vaginal fingering, p in v sex, blow jobs

Notes: Sorry for the long wait, guys! Here's 7,000 words of Cypher love to make up for it ;)

You’re exciting, boy come find me

Your eyes told me, “Girl, come ride me”

Fuck that feeling both us fighting

Could he try me? Mm, most likely

~~~

Something was off with Cypher.

The last few weeks, he hadn’t seemed quite like himself, but the past few days, it had become even more apparent. He was less present. Less focused. Quieter. He’d always been quiet —but this was a different kind of quiet. The distracted kind; the kind that told you his mind was somewhere else, far away from here.

On missions, he’d hardly been cracking jokes like usual, and only spoke to you to give orders. The rest of the time, he spoke to you even less, and scarcely stuck around for team activities. No doubt, something was troubling him; he seemed more on edge than you’d ever seen him. A couple times, you’d approached him to ask him a question, and he reacted almost as if you’d spooked him. And both times, he’d been quick to leave after giving you the answers you sought.

You weren’t stupid; you knew he was avoiding you. But… why?

In the back of your mind, you’d worried that he’d seen something that night—the night you’d touched yourself to him. If anyone were to find out about it, Cypher—the man with thousands of eyes—would be the first. You’d known it was a possibility even in the heat of the moment, and yet, you’d believed he didn’t know. Because if he did know, surely he wouldn’t act like this.

Cypher never let anything get to him. Ever. He wasn’t emotional. He never let the information he gathered interfere with his work, or his relationships. That was why he was so good at what he did.

Still, though, it worried you. Had you done something to offend him? Annoy him? Or was there something else on his mind that had nothing to do with you, and you were simply always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Whatever the case, you couldn’t let this go on any longer. Your feelings for him aside, you didn’t want things to continue this way. He was more than just your teammate; he was your friend, wasn’t he? What could be bothering him so much that he couldn’t talk or joke with you like he always did? You wanted to understand, and help if you could.

At the end of the day, as training sessions wrapped up, you searched for Cypher in the common room. When you didn’t find him there, you went out into the hall, heading for the dorms. If he was in his room, there was a low chance you could get him out to talk, but you had to try.

Then, just as you rounded the corner, you ran into him.

Cypher made a sound of surprise when you smacked into him, and you pulled back abruptly, mortified. “Oh, shit!” you exclaimed. “Sorry, sorry.”

The pale blue eyes of his mask blinked at you, and for a second you feared you’d angered him. But unexpectedly, he chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said. “I was…” He glanced away briefly. “I was actually looking for you.”

Your heart jolted so violently you thought it might burst. What? He had been looking for you? “You—you were?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said, still not quite looking at you directly. “I was, well… hoping we could… talk. If you are not busy.”

You were shaking your head before you could even answer him. “No, I’m not busy,” you assured him. “I was—I was actually looking for you just now.”

His eyes seemed to widen. “I… I see. That is…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat again. “Well, er… we should… go somewhere private. I… cannot show you my room, but I know somewhere else that will—”

“We can go to my room,” you said before he could finish. It had been your original plan to speak with him there, if you had succeeded in catching him at the right time, but your heart was pounding now that the words had left your mouth.

Cypher hesitated. “Are… are you sure? I wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” you promised. You managed a smile, despite how nervous you’d become. “It’s fine, really. Should we, um—go right now?”

“Yes, if you’re sure it’s alright,” he answered slowly.

“It is,” you said earnestly. “This way.”

You led Cypher down the hall to your room, miraculously making it there without your legs giving out from sheer anxiety. Once you were both inside, you closed the door behind you.

The two of you stood in silence for just a moment, and you wondered if he was just as afraid to make the first move as you. Finally, you asked him, “Do you, um—want some water?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, moving to lean against one wall.

Looking around the room, you tried not to panic. What had you been thinking? There was practically nowhere for him to sit apart from the chair by your desk and… your bed. Shit, you were so stupid. Things were already awkward between you two, and you’d only made it worse.

Still, you had to ask. “Do you want to sit down?” you asked, gesturing to your desk chair. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to stand,” he returned, sounding oddly grave all of a sudden. “But please, feel free to sit. Do not stand on my account.”

You couldn’t help but be worried by his change in tone. “Well, what exactly are we talking about?” you asked, laughing in spite of—or maybe because of—your apprehension. “Is it something I should sit down for?”

He didn’t laugh, and that made you worry even more. Instinctively, you moved towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge of it, and looked over at him. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the floor. What was going on? Why couldn’t he look at you?

“Cypher?” you said softly. “What is it?”

He lifted his head ever so slightly, then let out a sigh. “I… must be honest with you about something,” he murmured.

You were silent, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your ears.

When he spoke again, you could hear the effort it was taking him to go on. “You know that I see everything,” he continued. “That I have… cameras everywhere. Well…” He swallowed. “I have cameras… in here, as well.”

You froze, and immediately, devastatingly, you knew where this was going.

“I can’t tell you where they are, or why they are here, but—” Cypher turned his head, the brim of his hat covering much of his face. “One night, a few weeks ago, I—”

“You saw me,” you finished for him.

He looked up at you, and even with his mask on, you could tell he was stunned. After a short pause, he nodded. “I… saw you,” he echoed. “And I… heard you.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling as though the room was spinning around you. He knew. He’d known for weeks. Of course he had.

He’d heard you say his name—his codename and his real name. Your throat tightened with realization.

He’d heard you say you loved him.

The words were tumbling out of you before you could stop them. “I’m so sorry.”

A heartbeat passed, then Cypher spoke, his voice startlingly soft. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, bewildered.

You shook your head, unable to look at him. “I just—I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—fuck, I’m just—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

You were sorry, but for what, you didn’t know. Sorry for yourself? Sorry you hadn’t kept your secret better? Sorry you hadn’t told him?

Sorry you were in love with him at all?

Cypher was quiet for a long moment. You willed yourself not to cry, thinking desperately of what you could possibly say to rectify this situation, but then he said, “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

You raised your head at that. Tentatively, you found the strength to look at him again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that…” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Well, I mean that… there is no need to apologize. You’ve done… nothing wrong.”

You studied him, wishing more than ever that you could read his expression, understand how he was feeling. What was he trying to say? “You’re not… upset?” you asked, disbelieving.

“No.” He shifted against the wall, eyes still on the floor. “No, I… I’m not upset.”

You believed he was telling the truth, but you could see the discomfort in his stance. He might not be upset with you, but there was still something he wasn’t articulating.

Your throat was so dry; you wished you’d gotten yourself some water before sitting down. “Then… why have you been avoiding me?”

Cypher sighed. “I am… sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—what I mean to say is… avoiding you was… not my intention.”

Something told you he was lying.

“Cypher,” you said, “I—I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I didn’t want to complicate things like this, I just—” It pained you to say it, but you did anyway. You’d do anything to make this right. “It’s nothing, okay? It’s just a little crush. It’ll—it’ll go away.”

Cypher turned his head, meeting your eyes with those ice-cold blue orbs. “You… said my name,” he murmured. “That night.”

You faltered, unable to look away. “I-I—yeah, I did,” you stuttered. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Why did you?” he asked. There was no anger, no accusation behind the question. Only a desire to understand.

You tore your eyes away, occupying yourself with your hands in your lap. “I-I—I just—” You knew your voice was quivering, but you could do little to steady it. “In the moment, I guess I—I don’t know. I wanted to know the real you.”

Cypher did not answer right away. You wished you knew what he was thinking. “You said you… loved me,” he said, in that same soft tone.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “I know,” you whispered, your face burning. “I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

“You… didn’t?”

The softness in his voice took you completely aback. You looked up at him, blinking away the tears that were seconds from gathering. “What?” was all you could say.

“You didn’t mean it?” he asked. “When you… said you loved me.”

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he asking you this? You’d already told him it meant nothing. Unless… he didn’t believe you.

But… why would that matter to him? What did he care whether you loved him or not? Was this just more information he intended to keep for himself, to store away for later?

You shut your eyes, forcing back the tears once more. You could easily lie. You could say it had been nothing. You could say you didn’t know how you really felt, and that would be true, at least partially. You still didn’t understand all this, but you had to give him an answer. There was no way out of this.

And you weren’t a very good liar.

Looking down, you nodded. “I did mean it,” you said. “I meant it in the moment, and… I mean it now.”

Cypher was silent.

“It’s true I have feelings for you,” you went on, needing to get everything out before he said anything back. “I do, but… I care about this job. I care about the agency. And I respect you too much to let this change things.” You wrung your hands together. “I won’t let this get in the way. I’ll—I’ll keep working hard, and if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I—I understand. I just want to do my job. I don’t… I don’t want things to be different. I just want things to go back to normal. Please. ”

You felt the heat of his gaze on you as you waited for him to respond. He said he wasn’t angry, he said you’d done nothing wrong, but why was he so fucking quiet? What was going on in his head? You wished he would just tell you.

Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and suddenly, his shadow entered your field of vision. You looked up ever so slightly, and saw that Cypher had moved from his spot nearby; he was standing in front of you now, just a few feet away.

Slowly, he took off his hat, holding it to his chest. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “I have feelings for you, too.”

It was as if every one of your nerves had been shocked back to life. You stared at him. “You—you do?” you uttered.

“Yes.” He gripped his hat a little tighter. “That night, I… I didn’t mean to see you. I watch everyone, as you know, but… I don’t—I don’t watch them like that. I’m not that kind of man.”

You believed him.

“I saw you, and I heard you say my name, and I…” Every word seemed difficult for him to get out, as though he were frightened to be so vulnerable with you. “I couldn’t… stop thinking about you. For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was… interfering with my work. I couldn’t focus.”

That much had been obvious. And, if you were being honest, you’d been off your game, too.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” Cypher continued. “I am… never like this. This is not familiar to me. Or at least it… hasn’t been for a long time.” He swallowed. “I realized that… you’ve affected me. I have not been the same since that night. I have feelings for you, and… I thought it best to tell you.”

You were lost for words, mind reeling with the weight of his confession. Cypher had feelings for you. Real feelings. You’d… affected him, without even meaning to. Your heart, confused though it was, had begun to beat madly.

All this time, he’d felt the same way.

You wanted to stand, to meet him at his level, but you were in such a state of shock, you feared you would pass out if you did. “What does this mean?” you asked him, your voice small.

Cypher fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “I… don’t know,” he confessed. “Not yet. All I knew was that I needed to tell you… for both our sakes. But…” He took the smallest step closer to you. “You know that… because of this, and because we are both agents here, nothing will be the same.”

You nodded, knowing it to be true.

“You know that I… can never tell you everything,” he said ruefully. “I can’t tell you about my past. And I can never let you see my face, as much as I may want you to.”

Your heart twisted. “I know.”

Cypher took another step, stopping right at your feet. The tips of his shoes were nearly brushing yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. When he looked down at you, you could almost see the sorrow in his eyes under the mask. “I’m sorry for all of this. For not telling you until now.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I… haven’t done this in so long. I’ve almost forgotten what to do.” He laughed, though there was sadness in the sound. “I would… understand if this is too difficult.”

You peered up at him, still not understanding. “Do you… want to be with me?”

“I…” He had started to fray the edges of his hat. “I, well… I wish to be something with you,” he answered. “I… am not sure what exactly, yet. This is still new to me, and… I don’t understand all of it.” He shuffled his feet. “But… I can never be fully vulnerable with you. I may never be all you need me to be… because of who I am. What I’ve become.” A sigh escaped him. “I am truly sorry if this hurts you.”

Your arms reached out, seemingly moving of their own accord. Before you could think twice about it, you took the sides of his face in your hands. Though your touch no doubt surprised him, he did not pull away. “Cypher,” you whispered. “I… I don’t care.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t care,” you repeated. “I don’t… I don’t need to see your face. I would never make you show it to me.” You realized just how much you meant that. “I don’t need to know your past. I know something hurt you, something that forced you to hide yourself like this, and… that’s all I need to know.” You could feel a smile forming on your lips, slowly but surely. “I… mean that. I really do.”

He looked at you, his bewilderment evident even with his mask. “You… are really okay? With all of this?” he asked, full of disbelief.

You gave him a feverish nod. “Of course I am,” you said. “I fell for you as you are, didn’t I?” You laughed lightly.

“I…” His mask was warm. Was he blushing under there? “I’m… older, you know,” he mumbled. “I’m… out of practice. W-With—a lot of things. I haven’t been… well…”

You giggled. “That’s okay,” you reassured him. “We can—we can take things slow, okay? We’re still figuring this out.”

Cypher stared at you a moment longer, speechless as you held his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “You are… lovely,” he said. “You know that?”

You glanced away, your cheeks hot. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You know, I… I can’t believe you’re really here right now. Are we sure I’m not dreaming?” You chuckled nervously.

Cypher leaned into your touch, dropping lower so that he was eye-to-eye with you. “You’re not,” he said. “And I will prove it to you.”

Before you knew what was happening, he ducked gently out of your grasp, letting his hat drop to the floor. With one hand, he reached for his mask, then took it off.

Your breath caught in your throat. What was going on? Had he changed his mind? Had he decided to show you his face after all?

But under his mask, his face remained hidden. There was another black mask that covered his skull and features, skin-tight like spandex, with the blue orbs over his eyes attached. Cypher grasped the bottom of it, lifting it up just above his nose, and your heart thrummed fiercely in your ribcage. It wasn’t all of it, but it was his face; olive-skinned, angular, with a trimmed, dark beard and a scar on his lip.

His lip. His lips. His lips.

Cypher brought his gloved hand to your face, stroking your jaw. “May I kiss you?” he asked.

You didn’t even answer. You just kissed him.

Your first thought when your lips met his was that he was warm. There was so much warmth coming from him, gentle and encompassing like the sun, and though his beard was a bit rough, his lips were so soft. You melted into the kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. You needed more of him.

This wasn’t a fantasy. This was better than anything you could’ve conjured up.

Cypher matched your eagerness in kind, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. You felt his tongue at the seam of your lips, catching you by surprise, and you welcomed it inside your mouth, the softest of moans escaping you when it entered.

He pulled back for just a second, hand still in your hair. “Are you alright? Is—Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed before kissing him again.

You tugged at him, pulling him forward as the kiss deepened. You felt his chest on yours, his weight pressing down on you, and then you were falling back onto the bed, Cypher atop you as your mouths remained interlocked. Fiery warmth spread through you, rushing from your face down to your core. You held him closer, moaning when he sucked on your lower lip.

This wasn’t a dream; you were sure of it by now. But what was going to happen? How far did he want to take this?

“Cy—Cypher,” you managed to say against his lips. “Do you—do you want to—”

Cypher stiffened slightly, as if stirring from a trance. “I…” His breath was hot in your mouth. “I— yes. I want to, but—”

“But?” you said.

“I can’t be… naked,” he said breathlessly. “Not completely. I can’t—my body—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.” You kissed the side of his mouth. “Can you—take off some things?”

“Yes,” he answered. He jolted suddenly, like he’d just remembered something. “Wait, wait—do you—do you have condoms?”

You blushed. “Yeah, I-I should have some—somewhere. They should still be good.”

“Okay.” Cypher shook his head, reining himself back in. “I—I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would have prepared for—”

You shut him up with another searing kiss.

No more talking. Just show me what you can do.

Cypher grunted into the kiss, carding his fingers through your hair. Slowly, steadily, he began to move against you. “ Ghzâla, ” he whispered.

The word sent a shiver down your spine. “What does—that mean?” you asked between kisses.

“Sweet,” he rasped. “You taste sweet.”

You shuddered. You felt his thigh rub between your legs, and your hips thrust up instinctively. You dug your nails into the back of his coat. “Please.”

Cypher broke away from your lips, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. “What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer him. “Yes.”

He kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Where?”

The two of you had only just started, and you were already falling apart. “Everywhere,” you whimpered.

His lips were at your collarbone. “Everywhere?”

Holy shit, was he teasing you? This was too much. “Yes, everywhere,” you responded, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt. “Please, just—just touch me.” You’d dreamed about this for so long; there was no more holding back.

Impatient, you reached for your shirt, yanking it out from where it had been tucked into your pants. Noticing at once, Cypher acted accordingly, taking the hem from you and hoisting it up. You lifted your arms, and he pulled it off swiftly, exposing your bra and bare upper body. He leaned back, sitting up on his knees as he looked you over hungrily. “Beautiful,” he said, breathless. “So beautiful.”

You moved to unzip your pants, but he was faster this time, pulling them down with palpable desperation. Once he’d gotten them off, leaving you in only your undergarments, he put his hand to your panties. His touch was featherlight, but the second you felt it, it was like one of Neon’s electric shocks. You bit your lip to keep from moaning.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, adding just a little more pressure.

You let out the tiniest of gasps. You were soaked already, and you were sure he could feel it. He was so close to where you needed him. “Yes. Please.”

He stroked the outside with two fingers, feeling the shape of you through the fabric. His lips were parted, as if he were awestruck by you. “So wet,” he uttered, half to himself.

Unable to help yourself, you bucked against his hand. “Cypher,” you begged. “ Please. ”

He looked at you once, and that was enough to get him to focus. He made quick work of his coat and belts, then tore the gloves off his hands, setting them aside before flexing his freed fingers. They were the same color as his face, and just as scarred, with nails trimmed impeccably.

Thank goodness.

Cypher took hold of your panties, tugging them gently down your hips. Without speaking, he brought two fingers to your entrance, gathering your slick to coat the tips. Then, in one gentle motion, he plunged one inside of you.

You threw your head back, moaning as he entered. Cypher parted your walls with painstaking care, and you did your best to relax for him, knowing your pussy was strangling his finger with everything it had. It’d been months since you’d last had sex, and though you pleasured yourself often, the feeling of someone else’s finger inside you still came as a shock. You could feel every inch of it; the ridges, the callouses, the knuckle pressing up against the outside of you.

It was so good.

“Cypher,” you whined, feeling cockdrunk even at the small penetration. “Please.”

He was watching you intently, maintaining a steady pace with his finger. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No.” He curled it inside you, and you gasped. “No, don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He sat back on the edge of the bed, studying you like a man entranced. He did not slow down.

He pumped deeper, hitting your g-spot, and you moaned louder, urging him to keep going. You were gone already, lost in the sensation. The dorms could be on fire outside this room, and still you wouldn’t care. Cypher was alone with you, touching you, and it was everything you wanted and more.

“N-Need you,” you blurted out. “I need you. Please.”

Cypher tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “What do you need, dear?”

The sweetness in his voice was killing you. “You,” you pleaded. “ You. I—” You were cut off by your own moan when his thumb brushed your clit. “Please. Please, can we—”

“You want to?” He leaned over you. “Already?”

“ Yes. ” You hardly recognized your own voice, so heavy with need.

“Yes, we can, but—are you ready?” he asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes, please,” you babbled. “Please, I just—I need you.” Under normal circumstances, you would be more embarrassed with yourself, but right now, you were too flustered, too hot with desire to care.

“Okay.” Cypher nodded, understanding, and carefully withdrew his finger with a wet pop. You shivered as it left you, watching him get up from the bed and look around. “You—said there were condoms somewhere, yes?”

“Y-Yeah.” You forced yourself to focus, if only for a few seconds. “Check—check the drawer. Right there.”

You pointed to your night table, and he went to it, opening a drawer to search inside. As he rummaged, you sat up, removing your bra and panties faster than you’d ever done in the past. After a minute, Cypher turned, a wrapped condom in hand. When he saw you, his jaw dropped.

Actually dropped. For once, you could see his mouth, and know what was on his mind.

“Sweetheart,” he said, mystified, “you didn’t have to—I would have understood if—”

“Just shut up and get over here,” you ordered, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him forward.

Cypher collapsed onto the bed, head hitting the pillows as you climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you, mouth still open with awe. “You’re beautiful,” he marveled.

“So are you,” you replied before bending down to kiss him.

Cypher opened up for you eagerly, his tongue parting your lips with ease. “You—you don’t know that,” he breathed. “You’ve never seen my face. I could be ugly under here.”

You ground your body against him, nipping at his lower lip. “I know you’re not.”

He made a low sound in his throat, grabbing hold of your thighs. He kissed you hard, squeezing your soft flesh. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked when he finally broke free.

“ Yes, ” you answered firmly. You were naked on top of him, spreading slick all over his pants, and kissing him like you needed him to breathe. What more did you have to do to convince him?

You looked at him beneath you, face still half-covered by his mask. You could tell he wanted you; you could feel it in his lap. But as much as you craved him, you needed to be sure. “Do you want this?” you whispered.

Cypher gripped your thighs. “I-I do,” he said. “I do. I’ve wanted this for weeks. It’s just… been a long time.”

You understood. You wanted this so badly, wanted to jump right in, but you would go at his pace. “We can take this slow,” you promised. “I won’t take anything off of you. Not unless you want me to.”

He smiled, and your heart swelled. “Thank you, sokar. ”

You gave him a curious look. “What does that one mean?”

He grinned. “I will tell you later.” He reached for the condom, unwrapping it from its package, then met your eyes. “Will you help me? Please?”

“Oh. Y-Yeah. Yeah.” You shifted in his lap, moving aside so you could undo his belt. Once it was gone, you unzipped his pants to reveal his boxers underneath, feeling around gently until you found an unmistakable hard shape. Cypher made a soft noise when you touched it, and you looked up, fearing you’d done something wrong. But then he gave you a nod, encouraging you, and you got back to work.

Deftly, you freed his cock, bringing it out into the open, and abruptly sucked in a breath at the sight of it.

You’d been right. He was big.

It was long and thick, that same lovely tone as the rest of him, with dark hair trimmed short. “What did I tell you?” you said, dumbstruck. “You are beautiful.”

Cypher laughed. “You’re too sweet,” he remarked. “Pretty girl.”

Those words, spoken so affectionately, got you riled up in a way you’d never felt before. Remembering your task, you took the condom and brought it to the head of his cock, unrolling it all down the shaft. Cypher very nearly whimpered as you did so, and that made you all the more determined to get it done.

Once you’d covered him completely, you spread your legs, positioning yourself over his cock. “Do you want to start like this?” you asked him. “Or do you want to be on top?”

Cypher’s hands found their way back to your thighs, gripping them. “Like this,” he murmured. “Just go slow, dear. Please.”

Your heart fluttered, your whole body ablaze. This was really happening. You were about to have sex with him, and he was letting you take control.

You brought yourself lower, gasping when the head of his cock met your entrance. Taking a deep breath, you went even lower, then all at once, you were easing yourself onto him.

You moved slowly, walls splitting as you took him inside of you. It was a light sting at first, only the head of him penetrating you, then the further you went, the more you could feel yourself being opened, spread apart by his massive length. You were helpless not to moan as you went, the pain quickly replaced by mind-numbing, mouth-watering pleasure the deeper you took him. There was some resistance on the way, but at last, he bottomed out, and when you sat yourself fully in his lap, he moaned in tandem with you.

“Shit,” you gasped. “You’re so big.”

Cypher breathed out shakily, chest heaving as he adjusted to a sensation he likely hadn’t felt in years. His hands still grasped your thighs, his grip tightening after a heartbeat. “So tight,” he groaned. “Does it—does it hurt?”

“N-No,” you said, clenching around him without meaning to.

He winced, though not in pain. To your surprise, he rolled his hips up into you. “Please,” he uttered. “Please.”

His plea took your breath away. Knowing at once what he wanted, you began to move, sliding yourself up and down his length. You were so wet, it was effortless, even without the condom’s lubrication. You placed your hands on his chest, supporting yourself as you took him in and out, in and out. This couldn’t be real. Nothing this good could ever be real. “Cypher,” you moaned.

“That’s good,” he choked out. He thrust up into you, almost shyly, then he did it again, and again. Each time, you let out a whine, and that seemed to spur him on. “Good girl. Yes. ”

You moved faster, needing more of his praise, more of him. You were fucking him. He was fucking you. “S-So good,” was all you could get out.

He chuckled in between moans. “You’re so good, sokar, ” he cooed. “So—so pretty.”

There was that nickname again. You tightened around him, forcing a strangled noise from him. “Please,” you whimpered.

He tilted his head up. “What is it, dear?”

“Please, I—” You couldn’t put it to words. You couldn’t think right now—how could you? How could anyone? There was only pure, overpowering need. Driven by instinct alone, you leaned down and took his face in your hands, kissing him hard.

If your first kiss with him was a flame, this was an inferno. It was as though all your desire for him, all that lust and desperation that had built inside you for months had finally risen to the surface, taking control of you now. You claimed his mouth greedily, feverishly, and he kissed you with the same ferocity, digging bruises into your thighs. You nipped at him, clutching the sides of his face as you tasted him, his tongue colliding with yours. You wanted to devour him. You wanted to make him yours.

Cypher thrust into you harder and faster, holding your hips in place, making you mewl into the kiss. “ Please, ” you whined.

“You like that?” he panted. “Is this—what you imagined that night? When you touched yourself?”

You moaned, faltering with every thrust. “Yes,” you said feebly. You could barely remember your fantasy that night; it paled in comparison to this. “Yes, yes, I wanted this…”

You could almost see his eyes rolling back. “Sweet girl,” he groaned. “Why me?”

You hadn’t expected that question. “What? What do you— mm —mean?”

“Why me,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. “Why not Phoenix, or Sova, or— anyone in Valorant? Why me, sweetheart?”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. The answer itself was so simple, but… why was he asking this? Why now? “Because—because you’re you,” you responded, fighting to speak clearly. “Because you’re—you’re Cypher. You’re smart and—and kind and—” You cut yourself off with a shrill moan when he hit you just right. “You’re—you’re just—”

For several seconds, Cypher said nothing, processing your words. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed your face, forcing you to look straight at him. “Do you love me?” he asked, panting.

With your bodies so close like this, his hands on your face and his heart beating with yours, there was only one answer. “Yes,” you moaned out. “I-I do.”

He did not look away from you, not letting up on the rough pace he had set. “Say it,” he whispered. It wasn’t an order. It was a plea.

Cypher released you, pushing you back gently. You sat up straight in his lap, bouncing on his cock as he continued to thrust. You obeyed without question. “I love you.”

“Please,” he said.

“I love you,” you chanted. “I love you, I love you. ” You meant it, with every fiber of your being.

“Say my name,” he said, nearly begging. “ My name.”

“Amir,” you breathed. “I love you, Amir.”

Cypher made a sound so new, so vulnerable that you could hardly believe it came from him at all. It was soft, halfway between a moan and a whine. “ Sokar, ” he uttered.

You gripped the edges of his shirt. “Amir.”

He said your name. Your real name, not your codename.

Reaching down, you searched for your clit, circling it with two of your fingers. “Amir.”

He said your name again and again, like a prayer.

You rubbed your clit harder, the coil inside you so close to snapping. “I love you,” you gasped. “I’ve loved you for months. I love—I love everything about you. Amir. ”

“ Ghzâla, ” he said weakly. He sounded so frail, like a man about to break.

“I love it all,” you went on. You were babbling now, but you didn’t care. “I love—I love the way you look, the way you talk. I-I—I love your laugh, your—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Stop, please—I’m close.”

“Then cum for me,” you said without hesitation. Your body jerked at the pleasure from your clit, and you clenched around him with a gasp. “Cum for me, please. ”

Cypher breathed out harshly. “Stop,” he pleaded. “No more, please. I’m going to cum.”

You were so close, too, you could feel it. “Cum inside me,” you begged.

He bit his lip, and for a moment, he seemed to be considering it. He groaned, gritting his teeth, then shook his head wildly. “No—no, I can’t.”

You wanted to argue, to moan and beg until he popped like a cork inside you. You wanted it so badly. You wanted to be his, in a way no one was. Not Nora, or anybody else.

But you couldn’t. Not like this.

Without saying a word, you obeyed him, moving off of his lap just as he cried out, gasping for air as he came. His cock pulsed inside the condom, filling it to the brim with thick seed. You laid on your side, watching him as he grabbed the base of his cock and pumped it, groaning while he rode the wave of his orgasm—the likes of which he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

It took him a moment to come down from his high. When his body relaxed, no longer convulsing, Cypher sat up slowly and exhaled. He said nothing yet, still catching his breath, but when he turned and looked at you, he suddenly sprang into action.

He pinned you down before you had time to react, holding your arms above your head with one hand. You stared up at him, startled, only to moan sharply when you felt his fingers at your clit, rubbing it ardently. You tried to say something, to ask what he was doing, but you couldn’t form a single word. 

Cypher grinned down at you. “Your turn, lovely girl,” he purred. “Let yourself go.”

Holy shit, it was so good. “A-Amir,” you mewled. “Fuck, please —”

“Almost there, yes,” he coaxed, breathy with effort. “You did so well. Cum for me now.”

You were drowning. You were drowning in pleasure and it was all him, him, him. “P-Please—”

“Cum now,” he cooed into your ear. “Let me hear you.”

That command, spoken so softly, was all you needed. You wailed as you reached your peak, loud enough that someone outside could’ve heard you. Your pussy, still gushing from earlier, fluttered and clenched around nothing as you came, and Cypher’s fingers on your clit slowed to a soothing rhythm. “Good girl,” he murmured. “So good. I knew you could do it.”

You panted, collecting yourself as your heart calmed and your body went still on the bed. You pussy throbbed, and the sheets beneath you were soaked, but words could not describe how elated you were.

Cypher wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He’d just fucked you stupid, and made you cum.

The man himself looked down at you now, smiling. “Feeling okay?” he asked, moving a strand of hair from your forehead.

You gave him an “Are you serious?” look. “Better than okay,” you answered, smiling back. “I think I could walk on air right now, honestly.”

He chuckled. “So sweet,” he said. “That’s why I call you sokar. ”

“Are you going to tell me what that means already?” you asked humorously.

He smiled. “Sugar.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Cypher leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before sitting up and stretching. “I should get cleaned up,” he said, eyeing the stuffed condom. “It was… a lot. It has… been a while, as you know.”

You looked at the condom too—Jesus, it was a lot. Still woozy from your climax, your body warm all over, you had an idea all of a sudden. “Wait,” you said. “Let—let me.”

He turned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

You scooted closer to him, deciding to show rather than tell. Sliding off of the bed, you settled on your knees at his feet, taking your condom in your hands and gingerly rolling it up his cock. Cypher’s breath hitched when you pulled it off of him, but just before anything could drip from his shaft, you latched your mouth around his cock.

The moan that came out of him was better than you could’ve hoped. Clutching the base of his cock, you sucked up the remaining cum, licking and cleaning and swallowing. Cypher groaned as you worked, one hand coming down to grip your hair, and you did not stop until all of it was gone.

When you’d finished, you got to your feet, then disposed of the condom. Cypher was still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands on his thighs, flushed and panting like he’d just fucked you all over again. “You,” he said, his voice low. “I was—I was not expecting that.”

You giggled. Something about seeing him like this—so affected by you—was utterly amazing. You sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of you both. “Sorry for the surprise,” you said, only half-apologetically.

“N-No, I—” He cleared his throat. “No, that was, I—” He laughed, avoiding your eyes. “Please do that again sometime.”

You laughed too.

You knew it was partly the hormones, but you felt so different now. Lighter. Freer. So much had just happened, in such a short span of time. Everything had changed between you and Cypher—but you welcomed it with open arms.

You liked him, and he liked you. Neither of you had to hide it anymore.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Will you stay?” you asked. “Just a little bit longer?”

Cypher wrapped one arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. He was quiet for just a moment, then finally, he answered, “Yes. For a little while.”

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#cypher #cypher x reader #valorant #ao3 #ao3 writer #cypher valorant

[icedragonlizard]

How I can see Galacta Knight interacting with Kirby and some of the dream friends

I've recently developed a self-indulgent headcanon that sometime after the events of Heroes in Another Dimension, Hyness becomes generous enough to finally let Galacta Knight be free from the crystal he's been trapped inside of for so long. About time that he was let out!

I have some interpretations for dynamics that he could have with Kirby and some of the dream friends. Do note I said some of them, because as of right now I don't have ideas for how he'd interact with all the dream friends, but I'm glad to share the ideas that I do have!

Anyways, let's go over them.

Kirby: I can easily see a friendship here, as Kirby always tries to be everybody's friend! While I imagine Galacta Knight would be very irritable and temperamental as a result of traumatization from being trapped in crystal for eons, he'd most likely take well to Kirby a lot sooner than most others. The fellow younger pink puffball is hard to resist. And because Kirby is compassionate and empathetic, he'd feel terrible for what Galacta Knight has been through and would give him a very much needed hug that he's been so incredibly deprived of.

Meta Knight: Even though I don't commonly factor in extra mode content in my headcanons, I do canonize Meta Knight summoning a clockwork star and make a wish to fight Galacta Knight as something that happens in my verse. And that's exactly why I don't see these two getting along. Galacta was already messed up from being eternally stuck in crystal by that point, he's not happy that Meta just summoned him, beat him up, and left. He kind of holds a grudge against him for it. He'd most likely want to fight Meta for revenge if they encountered again, and it wouldn't help that Meta would just gladly take the challenge as an excuse for another fight. It'd take quite a while for these two to warm up to each other, as Galacta would certainly need some time to get over his bitterness for Meta.

Dark Meta Knight: This one is pretty interesting to think about. I think there's an actual, sincere possibility that Galacta and DMK could get along over them both sharing a distaste for Meta Knight. But... despite this possibility, I think the most likely outcome of this dynamic is that they'd both just fight and try to kick each other's asses. They're both temperamental assholes that easily lash out. DMK is largely stand-offish and rather bad at making friends, and I imagine that Galacta would probably distrust other knights in general because his encounter with Meta Knight left a foul taste in his mouth. If they were to see eye-to-eye, I think it'd take a while for it to happen.

Magolor: I actually headcanon that Magolor knows about Galacta Knight's existence because the Lor Starcutter has information on him. Galacta was in Halcandra before, allowing the Lor to detect him and store him into her memory, and that's what made it possible to make a mask based on him in Merry Magoland. Anyways, I believe that Magolor would be giddy and excited to meet Galacta in person. He'd love to learn more about him and show all his merch to him. I feel like Galacta would be weirded out by Magolor at first due to his over-the-top eagerness to know him, but I could see him eventually coming around and even taking well to the wizard's whimsical nature. Magolor could also amaze Galacta with his comically big ultra sword.

Susie: I've noticed that Galacta Knight and Susie have many things in common: being largely pink, both have had extremely long-term trauma (Susie stuck in Another Dimension, Galacta stuck in a crystal prison) and they've both got a large knack for violence. I think it's very possible they could bond or at least get along over these things. Pink bitches named breakfast! I believe that much like Magolor, Susie would also be very excited to meet Galacta. She'd find him to be even cooler than Meta Knight, especially delighted that he's pink! Galacta would probably be quite off-put by her at first, but I could see him coming around to like her for a mutual love of pink and also liking all the tech stuff she does. I hc Susie is past mechanizing people, so no worries about Galacta being a robot here. I think they could get on!

Marx: When Marx first learned about the Meta Knight vs. Galacta Knight incident and that it involved a clockwork star to let the fight happen, it caught his attention. He pestered Meta about the details as he was curious to meet Galacta himself, which he'd then have the chance to do so after Galacta is free from crystal post-HiAD. Anyways, I imagine the dynamic between Marx and Galacta to be rather complicated. It'd likely be tense at first, since Marx might be insufferable enough to ask a bunch of obnoxious questions in regards to the allegations of "greatest warrior of the galaxy", which would prompt Galacta to skewer him on the spot. I know I said that Galacta could maybe come around to Magolor for being whimsical, but Marx is a bigger handful by comparison that'd be harder to warm up to. I think it's not impossible for Galacta to eventually come to like Marx, but it'd take a long time to get there, and would hate him at first.

Ribbon: Ribbon would most likely be mind-blown by Galacta Knight. I'm not sure there's much else to say in that regard. This knight is pink just like Kirby, and look at that weaponry and armor! She'd compliment him like nuts. I think Ribbon is someone that Galacta could come to like faster than many others. She's very nice, compassionate and loves pink! Galacta might have difficulties in getting along with people in general right after being freed of crystal because he needs time to recuperate and heal, but he could warm up to Ribbon a lot quicker than he could to most other dream friends.

The Mage Sisters: Considering that I headcanon Hyness freeing Galacta Knight, I imagine that made the cult leader's daughters become interested in meeting him shortly after. I think the first impressions wouldn't be great as Galacta would want some time to himself initially, but I think he'd probably be able to come around to find these women to be alright. Zan Partizanne and Flamberge might be a little obnoxious with how much they'd like to spar with him, but otherwise I think he'd come to take a liking to their fighting spirits and capacity to cause extreme chaos and violence. He's known Hyness for a long time, so he'd be able to reveal a lot of stuff to them.

Those are all the dream friends that I got stuff for in terms of interacting with Galacta Knight. Sorry I couldn't do them all as of this time. I currently can't think up stuff for how the heck he'd interact with King Dedede, Bandana Waddle Dee, Taranza, Daroach, Adeleine, Gooey and the animal friends. But hope you enjoy what I do have here!

Like stated above in the stuff I put forward, the idea of both Magolor and Susie having a big fascination for Galacta Knight is pretty humorous. Heheheheheheheh.

#kirby #galacta knight #kirby super star ultra #meta knightmare #meta knightmare ultra #aeon hero #meta knight #dark meta knight #magolor #susie haltmann #susie kirby #marx #marx kirby #ribbon kirby #the mage sisters #zan partizanne #hyness #kirby star allies

[legolasghosty]

your one shot with willie and the sticky notes was so lovely, one of the first thing popped in my tl :)) especially the part where Willie says it began with Caleb sending him notes.

can i ask for a story of that? Willie and Caleb getting along and Caleb sending him notes inside his lunch to school, fancy handwriting and all? tysm it doesn't have to be short :)

Absolutely you may!!! I have had many thoughts about that since I wrote it! Here's the story being referenced if folks are curious! One note, Willie is in like 7th grade at the time of this story, and it's January. Willie came to live with Caleb in mid-December.

Willie bolted down the stairs, scared out of his mind. He'd overslept, and it was his first day of school since coming to Caleb's house. And while the man had seemed kind and understanding so far, Willie had seen his fair share of nice people who got less nice when they had to deal with Willie's inability to keep track of time.

He slid into the kitchen on his socks and almost ran into the kitchen island. The polished, hardwood floors that covered the downstairs area of Caleb's home were a lot slicker than he was used to. He stumbled and caught himself against a tall stool. At least no one had seen that little-

"Oh good, I was afraid I'd have to leave for work before you got up."

Whoops.

Willie looked up sheepishly to see Caleb leaning against the counter beside the sink, a cup of coffee in his hand and an amused smile pulling at his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled, standing up straight.

But Caleb only waved a hand, as if to dismiss even the thought of an apology. "Please, I did the same thing when I was your age," he chuckled. "The only reason I stopped was because my hips started protesting at how often I ran into things."

Willie's mouth fell open in surprise for a moment before the voice of one of his old foster moms popped into his head, ordering him to close his mouth before he swallowed a bug. He wondered how long it would be before Caleb stopped dropping random bits of personal history and blowing his mind like that.

"-not an expert, but you did say waffles are your favorite," Caleb said, placing a plate on the counter in front of Willie and startling him from his thoughts. "Syrup?"

"Uh, yeah, thank you," Willie stammered, not sure whether to look at the plate of slightly burnt waffles or at Caleb. He'd overslept and he still got a special breakfast?

"Of course, William," Caleb responded lightly, smiling. "It's your first day at a new school, cereal would be a crime."

Willie opened his mouth to say... something else, though he wasn't sure what, but was cut off by a buzz from Caleb's phone. The man glanced down at the screen and sighed.

"Duty calls," he remarked dryly, slipping the device into the pocket of his slacks and reaching for his jacket. "You have your key still, right?"

Willie nodded around a mouthful of waffle and tugged the silver chain out from under his shirt to show him. Caleb nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Your lunch is in the fridge, and I should be home around the same time as you. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

Willie nodded again, scared to trust the warm feeling in his chest but wanting so badly to let it travel through his entire being. To let it chase away the cold of forgotten birthdays and rushed PB&Js and angry words. Maybe this time would be different.

"Have a good first day," Caleb finished, pausing near the front door to grin back at Willie. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about it when I get home."

"Have a good day at work!" Willie responded, giving the man a thumbs up.

Willie finished his food quickly after Caleb left. He still had to get out in time to catch the bus to his new middle school. Once the dishes were in the sink, he grabbed a sweatshirt to shield him from the January chills and opened the fridge. There, on the middle shelf, was a big lunchbox with his name on the top in big, fancy letters.

He grinned, grabbed the box, and bolted out the door.

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

It wasn't till two weeks later that Caleb wasn't in the kitchen when Willie got up for school. There was a text on his phone when he managed to turn off his alarm, explaining that Caleb had an early meeting and had to be in the office over an hour before he usually did. Willie sent him back a thumbs up and a smiley face, ignoring the voice of his old foster dad in his head, complaining that emojis were tacky and shouldn't be an entire message.

He found his lunch waiting in the fridge and hurried through his breakfast to be on time for the bus. It wasn't until he was entering the library at lunch time that he opened the little green cooler to see what Caleb had packed him. He found a BLT sandwich (with a sparkly gold toothpick stuck through it, cause that was the kind of person Caleb was), carrot sticks, a package each of mini pretzels and corn chips, a bottle of orange juice, and a folded slip of paper.

Willie laid out his paper napkin over the table, just like his third grade librarian had taught him, and unfolded the paper. It was a note, written in Caleb's flowy, steady hand. Willie felt that warm feeling in his chest again. He didn't fight it as hard this time.

But then he tried to read it. And it was clearly English, but all the letters were connected and some of them didn't really look like letters. He could get his name at the top, and words here and there in the middle, but the overall message... Willie had no clue.

He sighed, feeling cold. Did rich people have another lettering system they used or something? One more thing to look up online later, he supposed. Willie set the note aside and started eating. He tried to focus on the nice flavors of the sandwich and the sweet tang of the juice, but the note kept pulling his attention anyways.

"Um, are you okay?"

Willie jumped in his seat, almost dropping his food as he spun to see a blond boy, probably about his own age, standing behind him.

"You've been staring at that paper like it kicked your cat for like ten minutes," the blond boy added, shifting from foot to foot when Willie didn't say anything.

"Oh, yeah, I'm good," Willie said quickly, clapping a hand over Caleb's note. "It's nothing. Who are you?"

He wanted to groan, talk about being the awkward, suspicious foster kid. But there's nothing to be done about it now.

"I'm Alex," the other boy responded, not seeming put off at all by Willie's abruptness. "I think we're in the same English class?"

Willie nodded slowly, now connecting the boy in front of him to the quiet, curious kid who sat a couple of rows over from him. "I'm Willie," he offered, setting down his sandwich to offer a hand to shake like all the adults did.

Alex smiled when he shook his hand and Willie felt warm again. Not quite the same kind of warm, but warm all the same. People hadn't really been mean at this school, but well... there was a reason Willie was eating lunch alone in the library. It was nice to talk to someone who maybe could be a friend.

"Okay can I ask about the paper?" Alex questioned, his eyes straying from Willie's face to where his hand was still covering the note. "You can totally say no, but now I'm hooked and it's driving me crazy."

"I mean you kinda just did," Willie pointed out, surprised by the giggle that bubbled out of his mouth along with the words. "But um, yeah, it's just a note from my foster...dad." It felt funny to call Caleb that. Not bad, just weird. He didn't think he'd called him that out loud before.

"And that's... a bad thing?" Alex said slowly, brows drawing together.

"No, it's cool, it's sweet," Willie insisted. "I just... I can't really..." He bites his lip, not wanting to reveal the truth. But also, he was already weird. And Alex seemed nice. "I can't read it," he admitted quietly.

A short huff of laughter escaped from Alex's lips and Willie felt his face turning red. But then Alex dropped down into the chair beside him.

"You want me to try?" the blond boy offered. "My dad has lousy handwriting too so I'm used to deciphering."

Willie stared at him for a second, trying to comprehend the words he was saying. Was he really trying to help? Just cause? What did he want in return?

"I don't have to," Alex said in a rush when Willie didn't respond. "I just wanted to help but I get it if it's personal and stuff, you just seem really cool and I kinda wanted an excuse to talk to you and it looked like it was really bugging you so-" he said without seeming to breathe before cutting himself off. "Sorry."

"No you're good," Willie responded, feeling a smile forming on his face. "And... yeah, worth a shot." Steadying himself internally, he handed Alex the paper.

Alex returned his grin and took the note. He stared at it for a long moment, then laughed again. Willie hadn't noticed before that he had a really nice laugh.

"It's cursive," Alex said, looking up from the paper. "No wonder you couldn't read it."

Dang, had Willie been right about Rich People Alphabet?! "What's cursive?" he asked, confused.

"It's basically fancy handwriting," Alex explained, leaning his elbows on the table. "Nobody uses it anymore really except random adults. My mom made me and my sisters learn it though."

"Rich people are weird," Willie sighed, chuckling and shaking his head. "So does that mean you can read Caleb's note then?"

"Yeah, his handwriting is a bit slanty, but I think..." Alex mused. "Okay. It says, 'Hello William, I hope your day is going well. Sorry I had to leave so early this morning, I'm going to trust that you still ate breakfast. I can't wait to hear all about your day when you get home. Best wishes, Caleb."

Willie laughed and nodded as Alex read it out slowly. That sounded like Caleb.

"P.S.," Alex continued, holding up a finger before Willie could say anything, "Your horoscope this morning said people will surprise you today. I hope it's a good surprise."

Willie glanced up from the paper to the face of the boy holding it. "I think it's a good surprise," he said slowly.

Alex looked up and his ears turned pink when he caught Willie's gaze. "You should probably have him teach you cursive if he's gonna keep leaving you notes like this," he said quickly, handing the paper back. "I mean I can't always be around to translate. What if I get the flu?"

Willie giggled. "Nope, you're never allowed to get sick anymore," he declared. "I need you to read Caleb's fancy person handwriting for me."

"Wow, I see how it is," Alex remarked dryly, smirking. "I'm nothing but my skills to you."

Willie started to protest, to clarify that he'd been joking, but Alex burst out laughing before he could speak.

"Sorry," Alex said once he got his breath back. "I was just messing with you. I know you didn't mean it like that."

"Whew, I was worried there for a second," Willie admitted. Then, hesitantly, he added, "Friends?"

"Friends," Alex agreed.

Willie grinned, feeling all warm inside again. He couldn't wait to get home and tell Caleb all about how people had surprised him today.

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #legolas ask #jatp #jatp fanfic #willie jatp #caleb covington #alex mercer #willex #they're just besties for now #but they'll get together later! #good dad Caleb my beloved #he is VERY embarrassed when Willie mentions that he couldn't read the note himself #cause he hadn't really thought about kids not being taught cursive in school anymore #but hey it made him a friend! #so win for dad! #Willie does end up learning to at least read cursive eventually #but he still makes Alex read Caleb's notes sometimes #mostly cause it's funny #the notes become more and more common after this #cause they learn that Caleb likes writing them and Willie likes getting them #so win win! #like not every day but usually a couple of notes per week #Caleb also will hide notes around the house for Willie to find when he has to be gone on work trips for a few days #anyways I really hope this wasn't too long! #the words got away from me #I got through an entire concert bootleg while writing this #thanks for asking!!! #this was super fun!!!

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

#nimona #nimona meta #nimona comic #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin

[mochinomnoms]

In regard to interspecies romance

Humans have a fairly easy time pursuing the other species in Twisted Wonderland, though there are exceptions to that rule.

multi (separate) x reader [wc] - 2,252 [note] - one of the first things i ever wrote, though i never posted cause i didnt edit it. thought i would anyways cause its kinda cute. Edited 12/14/23 to add a readmore

Despite their animal like tendencies and courting methods, it's incredibly common to see human-beastmen couples and families. Perhaps it's due to how similar their behaviors are to their animal counterparts, but humans are fond of how beastmen flirt and display affection. Beastmen are offended by the comparison, but it's hard to deny how similar, and cute, they are to the common wolf, hyena, or lion.

Wolf and other canine beastmen enjoy being close to their mates. They like to be physically affectionate, almost playful with their partners. They'll nuzzle into the crook of their neck—no matter how much bigger they are compared to their human—lean against them when they walk, and will happily be by their beloved's sided at all times. Furthermore, they primarily show their effectiveness as partners by being great providers, regardless of gender, and showing off how tight-knit their packs are. After all, family is very important to them, and they'll expect to have one, no matter how big or small, with their partner in the future.

If you catch Ruggie trying to slyly and smoothly place a hand on the small of you back when moving through crowds, no you don't. If a person notices Jack momentarily grabbing (gingerly, mind you) your sides as he slips behind you to reach the potion ingredient on the shelf above you, don't mention how his touch lingers ever so slightly. Maybe take it with a grain of salt when Jack tries to invite you to visit his family over break, as friends, of course. And when Ruggie brags to you about how well he watched over the neighborhood kids growing up, how he'd make for a great family man, it's all hypothetical.

Feline beastmen are more reserved in their affections in public, especially compared to canines, and even more so for lion beastmen. It's more common for them to show affection in more subtle manners, such as buying their partner's food and drinks without being asked, going out of their way to help them when they're struggling at school or work, and are able to spend hours just in their general vicinity. As long as their beloved is around, they're happy. In private, though, expect to have their entire body draped over them, weight and all, shoved into their personal space to the point that it becomes a foreign concept. Leona embodies this to his entire core, too prideful to perform PDA, but just prideful enough that he knows he can take up all your time and space with no consequence. Unless that consequence is your love and affection, which he supposes he could suffer through if you hear him purring, don't point it out.

All lion beastmen hold their pride close to their heart (no matter how much a certain prince would deny it) and their partner is no exception. Their pride is an intrinsically developed social network made of an extended, but closed family network. It requires all new partners to be carefully and slowly introduced to the rest of the pride, more so in Leona's case due to the royal family being traditionally made up of Sunset Savana nobility. You won't be the first non-beastmen, but are the first foreigner in a very long time to be introduced. Don't worry, though, Leona is nothing if not patient, and his family are just happy to know that he's found someone.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, are human-fae relations. Uncommon, though not for a lack of trying on humans' parts, due to most of the fairfolk residing in the isolated Briar Valley. The complicated history between the two species, ancient to humans but still relatively fresh for fae, doesn't help either. There's also the unfortunate consequence of humankind's rather short lifespans compared to the average 1,000-year lifespan of the fae. Unless the fae is in their final hundred or so years, they'll almost always outlive their partner without magical interference.

It's not impossible though, and as younger fairfolk leave the valley to explore the world, more marriages have resulted in half-fae children, both human and beastmen. As partners, fae are devoted to the health and safety of their loved ones. Increasing tenfold into nearly coddling territory with non-fae. Compared to them, their humans and beastmen are awfully fragile and naive, and require their protection. This can cause animosity between them, however, and only fae that are willing to learn and change their old ways result in happy, long-lived marriages.

They're also generally known to have lengthy courting methods: not dating, that implies something casual, no they court. Once they've established interest in you, their end goal is marriage, no ifs, ands, or buts. Fairfolk are generous with gifting during courtship: all gifts are about an equal-exchange and your acceptance of their gifts is a reciprocation of their feelings. At the end of the courtship, you can expect a small feast to be displayed at a ceremony held between their and your family. This is an especially important ceremony when courting humans and beastmen: fairy food can often cause lasting damages to those that consume it without permission. By offering their food to you and your kin, they are welcoming you into their world and telling you that they will never intentionally bestow harm to you or your kin. If you choose to accept the food, then you agree to do the same til the end of your days.

Lilia is a strange case, having already lived a long life and being well traveled, a gleeful participant in the strange customs and traditions of humans and beastmen. He'd much rather participate in other's dating and courtship rituals than his own people's. It's fascinating how fleeting the process can be, yet it can result in everlasting devotion. Don't mistake his flexible nature for disinterest, however. He's still a fae, and if you start finding silly little knickknacks of his on their desk, you can expect to never be rid of him.

The Draconia family-line is steadfast in their traditions, even if Lilia raised the latest prince. So don't expect anything other than the previously explained rituals from Malleus, even if you're not aware of them. Taking gems, jewelry, and clothing made of the finest material you'll ever lay hands from his hoard means little to him if it means you'll accept the gift (and him). Even if you aren't aware of how courtship works, the moment you pick up the black ring with the big oval emerald and Briar Valley crest, you're practically engaged in his eyes.

The courtship is long, even for Malleus who was one step away at every turn to skip over the entire thing in favor of just eloping. All for the person who decided that the great and terrifying Malleus Draconia was actually just a simple Mr. Hornton, a friend, companion who just wanted someone to stay by his side. If it means calling you his spouse, his fellow ruler, and the only love of his life even a moment sooner, then he'd be willing to throw tradition and ritual out of the very tall tower window just to do so.

Many years later, when you reminiscing how the two of you first met, and how long it took you to notice his feelings, you'll offhandedly mention the random gifts you found at your doorstep. How you wish you knew who was leaving those precious stones and golden amulets with no indication on who the admirer was. Upon further questioning, you'll tell him that you didn't even know you were being courted until two months into the ritual. It'll then click in Malleus's mind how utterly lucky he was that the two of you even got together in the first place.

It may be surprising, but human-mer relations have been extraordinarily rare. Only a handful of them have popped up since the times of the Sea Princess, who left her home for a human prince. In fact, you could probably count them on one hand! Perhaps this is due to the difficulties of having a romance between land dwellers and undersea folk; after all, it's much easier for humans, fae, and beastmen to interact when they all live on land. Merfolk can come up to the surface, and have been doing moreso in the last century, but having a relationship with someone who quite literally could not breathe in the same air/water as you is near impossible. At least, not without significant effort on one or the other's part.

Nearly all the human-mer romances that have occurred in history resulted in either one or the other abandoning their home to turn into a human/mer and live the rest of their days with their love in their new world. Certainly a romantic notion to be sure, but it most definitely require their love to be truly eternal. Or else you might run the risk of resentment brewing between the two. With a slowly growing need to easy access transformation potions and spells for business and diplomatic reasons, such romance is not far from reach, at least for those with money to spare. The next issue though would be the significant difference between land dweller and undersea folk's courting methods.

Perhaps it can be contributed to the more...feral nature of merfolk. Most of them still retain more animalistic features and behaviors than the average beastman. The twins are no exception to this. Even if you were to remove their claws, mucus covered skin, and 6-ft tail, you're still left with eyes suited for a deep-sea predator, nose that can smell the tiniest drop of blood in a pool, and rows of razor sharp teeth begging to bite down on your neck. The deep-sea is not only cold, but quite ruthless. So, it'll probably come as no surprise that moray eels will prove themselves as suitable partners by fighting either their competitors or you. If they can prove that they can hold their own, protect you from the horrors of the deep, then they have the right to go for your heart. That's not to say softer sentiments don't exist, and while similar the twins are still two separate people with different tastes. These tastes show during courting, though mers have a more casual date-like ritual.

Like fae, merfolk court via gifts, particularly handmade or ones they found themselves, and Floyd is awfully fond if gifting you the strangest things. A tooth that was knocked out from the student who shoved you a little too hard, a rock you tripped over in P.E., or a sand dollar he found on a trip to the beach were a few of the many items he gave you. Jade is similar, though he's more fond of making his own gifts. A necklace made of seashells found at the beach you had your first date in, a terrarium he made from plants that remind him of you, but your favorite was the small garden he started tending to on your kitchen windowsill. Breakfast was particularly delicious when made with his fresh mushrooms. Expect soon after the gifts lots of physical affection, public and private.

Don't be mistaken, they'll still bully you. But each of Floyd's bone-crushing hugs will be accompanied by a soft headbump from his forehead to yours. Jade's teasing, mean remarks will follow with a swift, sweet peck to your knuckles. They'll grab your notebook and hold it above their head until you agree to give them a kiss or punch them in the stomach, both are acceptable responses. Be a little mean back, they like the idea of a sweet and cute little human that can throw a punch. Your their sweet little human, and you make life in the deep exciting. Just don't ask about their flushed face every time they see you yawn, they aren't quite ready to explain that one yet.

Azul intensely studied a variety of topics before coming to land, even briefly glossing over dating, romance, and marriage before deciding he wouldn't need it anytime soon. He regretted that soon after meeting you, though he made do with what he knew. And what he knew as food. A combination of octo-mer courtship and being the son of a cook, Azul will discreetly court you by personally cooking and feeding you your favorite meals. It's the result of the dangers of ancient octo-mers eating their spouses after mating. Afterall you can't eat more if your already full. While not something they have to worry about now, it's an old ritual still used today, Azul has hear the way to a person's heart is their stomach and can wholeheartedly agree.

What's surprised you the most was what followed after, especially for someone as physically reserved as Azul: octo-mers are extremely clingy and affectionate. He doesn't have the heart to do anything more than handholding and chaste kisses to your cheeks in public, but he yearns to wrap all 8 tentacles and two arms around you so tightly that your gasping for a breath that he steals with his lips. He won't mention it, but he can taste the salt from your skin and the pulse from your wrists with his suckers. Take it from someone who grew up with a refined palate, he thinks your taste is equivalent to ambrosia from the gods, though that might be the lovesickness speaking.

i have a hard time writing savanaclaw for some reason, but imma working on it now! also tagging for all the guys is stressful idk what i should enter, like fullname or just first name idk man!! pls reblog and comment! lmk what you time, xoxo

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #dividers by cafekitsune

[melancholyhigh]

ALL MINE.

ft. leon x f!reader

synopsis. you realize you're in love with your roommate. it sucks that he's ignoring you all of a sudden.

content. 4.7k words. smut. slight jealousy/possessiveness, subby leon, dry humping, handjob, finger sucking, praise & degradation kink, unprotected p in v (riding), overstimulation, creampie, slight subspace.

note. i had mental anguish while writing this so i apologize if it's not my best. i'm also sorry for being so inactive :((

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs <3

Leon S. Kennedy was probably the best roommate you could’ve asked for.

He had fit the criteria you hand conjured for the perfect housemate the first time you met. Leon was calm, and the apartment was pretty clean. From what you can tell, he cared enough about himself and his surroundings. 

Hell, the place looked almost uninhabited save for some trinkets and a few bits of his personality sprinkled about.

Only if you had known what you were getting yourself into when you had agreed to become his roommate.

–-

The first month of residing with Leon was great. You rarely crossed paths and never really communicated with each other due to how stressful looking for a new job was, and then proceeding to attend said job was tiring enough for you to make little social interactions.

He was relatively closed off as well. Not talking to you unless necessary or common courtesy such as a simple ‘Good morning.’

After you settled in, you noticed how much of a strange man Leon was. For one, when he did go to work, he left for weeks at a time, and in his return, he was even more closed off somehow. Leon doesn’t spare you a glance or a greeting, only grunting if you ask if he is alright.

He’s also covered in bruises and bandages, leaving you more concerned.

It made you question who really was your roommate.

In the first meeting you and Leon had, you inquired about his job, mostly to try and figure out how your schedule would work, but also with genuine interest. At the time, he merely shrugged, not answering your question point blank, telling you not to worry about it. 

He mentioned his past job as a police officer. You’d dare to ask him more about it, but you didn’t want to pry, leaving the questions for another day.

Lately, you’ve been wishing more than ever that he had answered the question instead of dodging it. In rare moments that you focus on anything else but your job, it often leads you to think about Leon and what he does while he’s away.

It annoys you too that he doesn’t tell you when he’s leaving. He doesn’t owe it to you, but some nights you think he’s getting a drink, only to return a few days later bloodied and bruised.

One night, your overthinking got the worst of you after Leon returned to your apartment in the worst condition you’ve seen in the past few months you’ve been living with him.

Up late, you were in the shared living room, wondering when he’d get home. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Leon. It was way longer than his usual business days. You had been worrying nonstop, not getting a wink of sleep. Was he dead? You’d be the first suspect on the list.

You had called him multiple times, all going to voicemail. That is until you heard the faint creaking of the front door. There he walked in, faced all fucked up. His lip busted, sporting ugly yellow and purple bruises all over the exposed flesh of his body, and a bandage wrapped around his left hand blotted with dry blood.

He was awkwardly shuffling into the room, trying not to wake, you presume. A bit late for that. 

“Where the hell were you, Leon?” your voice breaks the early morning silence. 

You see him jump slightly in surprise, almost dropping his bag. A different emotion washes through him. A mix of fright and guilt, it’s different from what you’re used to seeing him with.

Leon quickly composes himself, going back to his stoic expression. Taking his shoes caked in mud off at the front door, resting his bag down, he walks over to the kitchen opening the fridge. The light streams out, illuminating the kitchen as you follow him, awaiting an answer.

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it?” His back is turned to you, rummaging through the contents of the fridge.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” you stress with exhaustion, eyeing his injuries. “What the fuck happened to you.”

He flexes his broad shoulder before turning around to face you. His gaze pins you down before he’s back to ignoring you as he chugs the cold bottled water in his grasp. The fridge is still open, and it adds more nuisance within you.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs. He finally shuts the fridge close, only the moon’s light filtering into the room. “Why do you care, anyways?”

“‘Cause when you go missing, I’ll be the one locked up, Leon,” you say. He’s staring at you, trying to suppress a smirk. 

“You sure it’s not ‘cause you like me? I’m here to stay.” Is this fucker teasing you? He’s nothing like you first met him. Maybe it’s the blood loss. But to be fair, this is the first proper conversation you’ve had with him in months — you didn’t know how he actually was. 

Rolling your eyes, you ignore him, shifting your focus to his bandaged hand, blood seeping through the fabric. 

“Let me take a look at that, please,” you urge, taking his hand into yours. You overlook the questions blooming in your mind to tend to his injury.

“Okay.”

You turn the lights on, searching for a first aid kit. Once you retrieve it, you’re back in front of Leon, who’s sat patiently at the dining table. 

You roll the sleeves of your sweatshirt up before carefully peeling the fabric sticking to his bloody skin. The large gash on the back of his hand makes you uneasy. It’s deep, almost to the bone, and blood spills onto his pale skin.

“Your stitches reopened,” you tell him, cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. What did he do to warrant such an injury? “If it worsens, you need to go to the hospital.” 

“Mhm, you work with patients?” You shake your head, wrapping the wound with fresh gauze. 

“What’s your job, then?”

You scoffed, “Some office job. What’s got you busy, huh?”

“Some government bullshit.”

–-

That night the relationship you had with your roommate shifted. For the better, you supposed. 

You also bonded better with him the following morning while driving him to the hospital. He was so dramatic, yet he continued to undermine his clearly serious injury, refusing to go. The bleeding had not stopped, and you were worried it could get infected.

He was such a baby. You had bargained with him for his own health, promising to do his chores for a whole month so his hand doesn’t get amputated. 

You never really did figure out what his job was, but you guessed it was most likely confidential. It was a vague answer to your question. He could be lying, but once you’re not behind bars, you can’t complain.

You and Leon spent more time with each other.

Even though you had no idea what his job was, he did tell you why he couldn’t disclose such information, something along the lines of putting your safety in jeopardy. Wasn’t him as your roommate just as dangerous? But you didn’t bother. He had his reasons.

Leon, on the other hand, probably learned too much about you and your job. 

You weren’t familiar with the city or the people, so it was nice to talk to someone, and you may have gone overboard. You were here for a better quality of life, and it was significantly better than where you previously lived. 

You loathed your job. Your co-workers were so condescending and passive-aggressive. Not to mention, you couldn’t quit. It paid enough for you to shut your mouth. Well, not to Leon.

You’re sure he’s sick of you talking and complaining. And when you’re not complaining, you both still get along about other stuff. You mostly banter, though, because Leon is such a child.

The guy can barely care for himself, contradicting what you initially thought about him. You care for him most nights after his so-called ‘missions.’ You rebandage his wounds, scolding him for not caring about himself while he’s looped up on pain meds.

Any other night — when he’s actively not trying to get killed, and you’re not incredibly busy — you both get drunk to attempt to forget about responsibilities. Often you were spouting drunken, nonsensical rambles as Leon somehow listened to.

Ironically enough, Leon cared about your well-being more than you do. Maybe you’re delusional, but you swear he does more than a normal roommate should. It’s because you’re constantly checking up on him, you reasoned. He’s just a respectable person.

But what kind of roommate consistently asks about how you’re going? What roommate get you your favourite takeout when you’re not feeling your best? What roommate threatens to beat the shit out of your annoying co-workers?

But you’ve acknowledged that Leon wasn’t your average housemate. Not just his job, but who the fuck looks that good when they’re bleeding out?

–-

Your job has a celebration upcoming, the company’s 50th anniversary. You barely made it a year working for the place, but you want to make a good impression. You also don’t want to bore yourself to death, so why not coerce your lovely roommate to join you as your plus one?

“I’m not gonna go. Don’t you hate that place?” You stare up at him, sulking. 

“Good impressions,” you say before pleading, “C’mon, Leon, please. We can go to the bar after.”

He gives you an unimpressed look before turning away from you.

“I’ll pay for you.” You’re going to go broke because of this man. It catches his attention. 

“So desperate,” he chuckles.

“You’re going?”

“I’m gonna run you dry.”

–-

You definitely weren’t prepared to see Leon in a suit when you exited your room. He’s sat on the couch, his hand nervously running through his hair — notably slicked down with gel. 

“You that serious about making me go bankrupt?” You voice jokingly, breaking Leon out of his thoughts.

His eyes trail along your body, admiring the dress you wore — how it hugs the curves of your body — noticeably gulping as he stands up. The black suit fits his body, accentuating his broad physique and nice ass.

“I keep my promises. I hope you do too.” He says, before mumbling, “You look nice as well.”

You smile at him, ignoring the unusual feeling blooming in your stomach.

The event was indeed incredibly bland. You’re glad you bribed Leon into joining you. He’s been your saving grace. His sly quips and awful jokes have made the experience increasingly more bearable.

Your enjoyment seemed to fizzle when your co-workers wanted to converse with you. They never did before. Why would they now?

Then you realize too late that they’re not here for you. They’re there for the attractive male next to you. You watch in amusement as the girl blatantly ignores you in favour of Leon.

She’s sweet, you’d imagine, but Leon looks awkward, and there’s an uneasy feeling bubbling in your gut as she squeezes his arm in a flirting manner. The feeling is unlike what you’ve felt earlier.

You could go for a drink right now. 

The poor girl’s attempt at seducing Leon goes on longer than you’d like. He’s uncomfortable, and you admire her persistence, but it’s getting on your nerves.

Didn’t she get the memo? He’s your plus one.

You decide to interrupt their conversation, you’re not particularly proud of it, but you want to get drunk. Maybe you’re doing Leon a favour as well.

You pull him away, not offering an explanation, just the promise of getting wasted. 

When you’re at the bar, you both get settled, conversing and taking shots, all on you, of course.

Leon mentions that he understands why you hate your job and colleagues, and you laugh lightly at his claims. While you two talk, a few guys approach you, trying to get your number or asking to buy you a drink, ignoring Leon.

It wasn’t a usual occurrence, but it happened more often than not. And even though you find it flattering, it did begin to irritate you.

You politely declined their requests with an uncomfortable smile on your lips. It felt wrong to indulge in their proposals in front of Leon.

Leon’s eyes gleam with an unknown emotion as another guy approaches you. His grasp on the glass tightens, and it looks like it's about to shatter.

You once again deny the request. As you get more tipsy, your filter worsens as you half-heartedly refuse the poor guy. He walks away, visibly irritated. 

“That’s the fifth guy to ask for your number,” Leon states, taking a swig of his whiskey. His grip on the glass loosens, but his shoulders are still tense. 

You roll your eyes at his over-exaggeration. His suit’s jacket is off, revealing the white button-up shirt underneath. 

“I wasn’t interested. A few girls asked you out, too,” you declared bitterly. You’re not drunk per se, just very tipsy. 

“They’re not my type.”

“What’s your type?” Taking a sip from your drink, you observe Leon shake his head before downing his glass.

“Having fun?” you inquire, and Leon’s grateful you changed the topic.

“Liquor’s better when it’s free.”

–-

It’s the next day, and you haven’t seen Leon since. 

When you woke up, you had a pounding headache. You walked into the kitchen expecting to be greeted by an equally shit-faced Leon, but he was nowhere to be found. It was unlike him.

Usually, he’s already making fun of you for being a lightweight, and you attempt to make breakfast together. He’s probably still in bed. He did drink more than expected. It was a miracle you both got home in one piece.

You took some painkillers before heading back to bed. If you’re up to it, maybe you’ll make breakfast later. 

A few hours have passed, and still no sign of Leon. You wonder if he went to work, but that didn’t make sense. Why would he go to work with a hangover? Leon was a bit careless, though.

He was most likely ignoring you. That would be the last thing you wanted. He was the only person you cared to talk as pathetic as it sounds. Did you say something last night that upset him? He was his usual self, but you probably were too drunk to notice something off.  

He probably has work-related things to worry about. Not everything was about you. Though, you were still concerned.

You had camped in the kitchen for a while, waiting for Leon so you could confront him. You wanted to make sure he was alright.

When he did enter the kitchen, you tried to start a conversation, only for him to dismiss you entirely. He refused to respond to your troubles, getting what he needed and returning to his room. 

You thought it was a one-off thing, but sadly it wasn’t. Leon ignored you the following days, leaving you perplexed. You wished Leon would talk to you about what’s going on. Isn’t that what friends do? Communicate? Every attempt you tried to make was fruitless.

All he’s been doing was ignoring you, and it broke your heart.

His sudden indifference reminded you of when you first moved in. This abrupt disinterest in you left you staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, reflecting on your relationship with Leon. 

You despise how he’s been acting lately. 

You despise his reckless behaviour. You despise his hair that falls so perfectly. You despise how considerate he is. You despise how sweet he is to you. You despise how attractive he looks when he walks about the place shirtless, in short shorts that barely contain the flesh of his thighs and lay low on his hips when he’s sweaty after working out.

You despised how other girls looked at Leon. You despised how other guys looked at you, wishing it were him.

But you don’t hate him, far from it.

You loved his company. From the first night to the night at the bar. You wouldn’t want him to share that with anyone else. He was familiar, so it hurts that he’s been ignoring you. 

He’s treating the moments you’ve had with him seemingly worthless, the time you’ve shared — the late nights when you cared for him. The insecurities you have confided with him. Did it mean anything to him?

He most likely wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you doubt he could. His job explains itself, but you’re still worried as a friend — as his roommate.

Your overthinking has got the best of you, and fuck it. You’re going to confront Leon, whether he likes it or not.

–-

You’ve been building the courage to knock on his door for 20 minutes, pacing back and forth in front of his room door. You didn’t want to make him hate you more, but his bitchy attitude made you wonder why you even liked him in the first place.

Knocking on his door, you instantly regretted it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself, but you had to face him sooner or later. The door surprisingly opens, presenting you with a tired Leon dressed in nothing but his boxers. You probably just woke him up.

When you meet his soft gaze, his brows furrow, and he scowls. It’s been a while since he’s looked at you, so you can take what you can get. 

“What do you want?” Leon dully asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest as he leans on the door’s framing. Okay, so he’s talking to you after a week of silence, granted, not like he used to, but it’s something.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you counter bluntly, glaring at him. His facade crumbles, shoulders dropping as he frowns. He quickly recovers, scoffing and looking anywhere but at you.

“What are you talking about–” 

“I’m not a dumbass, Leon. Just why? Are you okay?” you quickly cut off his poor excuse of a response. He shakes his head, his messy hair concealing his eyes as he tries to reply.

The look you’re sending him gives him goosebumps as if you’re reading him with just a glance. You are, and it’s terrifying yet so arousing that you can do so easily. Your eyes don’t leave him, trying to figure out his problems. It’s equally arousing how much you care for him, looking through him like he’s glass. 

His composure crashes, stuttering an answer you’re unable to pick up. You stare at him, confused at his sudden nervous behaviour. 

Leon’s selfish for wanting you all to himself. He doesn’t want to hurt himself with the rejection that you may throw his way. He doesn’t want to feel like that even though your actions say otherwise. He wants to tell you that, but what he says is much more pathetic.

“God, it’s you,” he repeats. The look of disappointment that crosses your face hurts. It hurt that he’s the one that made you look so broken so quickly.

“What?” Your voice falters, but you’re curious despite the ache in your chest. You’re not surprised. Maybe, a bit shattered.

“Not like that. I mean, fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he tries to formulate his words, a blush dispersing on his pale cheeks. 

“I was fucking mad, okay? Not at you– never at you. I hated how those guys looked at you. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. You’re my roommate, for fucks sake, but–” He continues to ramble on, and the words he spews give you whiplash. 

You’re simultaneously flattered by his words and pissed. He was acting like a prick because he was jealous. As much as you were annoyed by his immature behaviour, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies swarming your stomach.

You impulsively crash your lips into his. He stops his rambling, startled, before melting into the kiss, his long lashes fluttering close. His plush lips move softly against yours. The kiss is soft and much better than either of you could’ve imagined.

Pulling away from him, you catch your breath, huffing, “You dumb boy.”

His cheeks darken in colour, the blush leading to the expanse of his chest. He grips your hips, tugging you closer to his body. You feel his dick hardening in confined in his boxers, pressed to your lower stomach.

“Fuck,” Leon gasps softly. You tuck strands of hair behind his ear, your nose bumping together as you admire his pretty face.

“All that from a little kissing?” you breathed against his bruised lips, your fingers toying with the waistline of his boxers. “You want me to help you, baby boy?”

“Yes, please.” 

You frown, moving away from his hold. His face falls, his brows furrow in confusion as he pouts. “C’mon, Leon. You really think you’re going to get to cum that easily after ignoring me?”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please touch me. I– I’ll be your good boy,” he pleads, moving back closer to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection. 

“Okay, sweetheart. You’ll get to cum if you behave.”

He captures your lips in a quick kiss, moaning softly before pulling away. He takes your hand, leading you into his bedroom, and you observe the new surroundings. Even though you’ve been roommates for nearly a year, you never saw the inside of his room. Posters of bands you weren’t familiar with were on the walls of his room. 

“On the bed, baby,” you coo, and Leon shuffles on the navy blue sheets of his bed, leaning against the headboard. You crawl onto the soft sheets, straddling him as you seat yourself on his plush thighs. His warm palms shoot to rest on your waist, softly squeezing them.

He tugs you closer to him, pressing your chest flat against his. Leon gasps softly, his nipples rubbing against the coarse fabric of your tank top.

“S’much better than I imagined,” he sighs, guiding your hips so your clothed cunt drags along his prominent bulge. He groans, feeling your cunt dripping, soaking through your panties and shorts. 

You move back from him, halting your movements on his hardening cock as you’re sat on his thighs once more. Your hands grip his arms, and even though he’s stronger than you, he ceases his motion. It’s so fucking hot how this huge man submits to you. 

“You’ve thought about me in your lap?” you tease, palming his erection through his boxers. The head leaks precum, staining the delicate fabric. “Playing with your pretty cock?”

“Mhm,” he whines softly, bucking his hips to your warm touch. His head tilts back, knocking the wooden headboard quietly as he writhes at your touch. 

“Ohh, you poor thing. Cummin’ in your hand wishing it was mine,” you mock, pulling Leon’s boxers down to reveal his throbbing dick flushed pink. It aches for your touch, twitching and smearing his precum on the dark curls on his happy trail.

“Fuck, yes.” Leon whimpers when you wrap your digits around his cock, squeezing it, oozing more precum, coating your fingers as you stroke him slowly. His hips eagerly thrust to meet your movement.

“So, so pretty.” The blush on his cheeks somehow deepens at your words. His head is spinning, and not just from your touch. He roughly grips his silken sheets, bunching them up. You thought he was pretty?

“God, baby, you’re the prettiest.” 

Fuck, had he said that out loud? 

His back arches as he nears his orgasm, pleasure rushing through his body. His thighs tremble as he spills his cum, coating your hand. You don’t stop tugging on his weeping cock, living for the little cries he makes from being overstimulated.

“Don’t, m’ sensitive– shit,” Leon whines, and you finally take your hand off his spent dick, admiring his cum dribbling onto your fingers. Leon props himself up, chest heaving as he tries to collect himself.

“Did I say you could cum?” you tease. Leon’s eyes widen for a second before pleading for forgiveness.

“I- I didn’t mean to. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll be your good boy.” He sniffles softly, and you take pity on his cries. You’ll punish him another time.

“It’s okay, honey. Can you open wide f’me?” you say. Leon does as he’s told, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out. You wished you could take a picture. 

You place your index and middle finger on his tongue, pressing down. Leon wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking his cum off them. Moaning softly, he peers up at you through his lashes and gags when you push your fingers further down.

“You’re such a slut, Leon,” you say, pulling your fingers out his mouth, lips slicked with his spit. You flicked his nipples, causing him to moan loudly. His cock is beginning to harden once more.

“I’m your slut.”

“Think you can go one more round, baby?” you asked, hovering over his rock-hard cock, before sinking down. Your drenched pussy through your thin shorts stimulates his overly sensitive dick, and he groans softly, squeezing your waist.

“Wanna take care of you too, angel,” he murmurs into your ear as you grind yourself onto his erection. “Can I eat you, please?”

“Maybe next time, honey.”

“Fuck, okay. Can you kiss me?” You press your lips to his softly, and he whimpers sweetly into your mouth. Pulling away from him, you take your shorts and panties off, and they’re fucking drenched. Leon tugs your tank top off, and you giggle at his eagerness.

Your body, so soft and warm, is pressed against Leon’s. It’s almost enough to make him cum, and he’s not enough inside you yet. You slide your dripping cunt along his shaft, ensuring he’s fully hard. Leon fucking whines each time the tip of his cock nicks your entrance, begging to plunge in.

Every time the tip nudges your clit, your cunt clenches, and each flutter sends his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Please, angel. Fuck me. Use me– I don’t care. ‘M all yours.” You guide his cock to your entrance before finally sinking down slowly. The tip enters you with a soft moan. He’s so fucking thick. Once fully sheathed in you, you grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re all mine to use, right? F- Fuck, you’re stretching me so good, Leon.”

Your tight walls hug him so tightly, and when you bounce on his cock, each drag of his sensitive dick adds to the building pressure in his tummy. He filled you so good, reaching spots you didn’t think were possible as you used him like your toy.

Leon thrusts his hips to meet your pace, your ass slapping his thighs, making obscene sounds. He can’t get enough of you. From your tits bouncing as you rode his cock, or the expression you hold when he hits that special spot. 

It’s so much better than he has imagined.

He rubs your clit with his thumb, a broken whimper leaving him when your gummy walls clench around him tightly. The pressure in his tummy was rising, and you were no better as he played with your clit.

“‘M so close, sweetheart. Can I cum in you, please?” he pleads, his hips stuttering to meet each of your moves. His pink lips parted, eyes barely stayed open, and he looked utterly ruined.

“Yes, baby.” You trail kisses along his neck, sucking marks along the column of his throat. You’re pleased with yourself that you’re the reason he has those marks now. Each bruise you suck on his flesh adds another butterfly to his tummy. He’s all yours now.

“Cum with me, please.”

After a few more thrusts, the pressure within him bursts he cums inside you, filling you with his warm seeds. You climax along with him. Your cunt spasms around his sensitive cock, gushing its arousal, clinging to his happy trail.

You collapse on top of him, your head falling on his shoulder. Leon kisses the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. You try to get off to clean yourself and Leon up, but arms encircle your waist, preventing you from doing so.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t want you leaving.”

You comply, laying with him, your skin, sticky with sweat and cum, clings to his as you both enjoy each other’s embrace.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #i need to peg him #✩‧₊˚ fics

[piichuu]

♡ FALLING ASLEEP ON HIM

ft. toge inumaki, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, yuta okkotsu, gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuji

WARNINGS: reader is referred to as ‘pretty girl’ in gojo’s., fluff, gn!reader

TOGE INUMAKI

the two of you have been out on a mission all day, it’s rather common to become tired afterwards due to all the fighting, but today you’re totally drained, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes as you sit down on the couch. “will that stupid blindfold guy ever give us a day to rest?” you sigh while leaning back against the comfortable cushion.

toge chuckles a little to himself and sits down beside you, putting an arm over your shoulder so you can lay your head on his. after loads of mouth wash, his throat is no longer killing him as it was a few hours ago, but he still cannot speak, not because of his throat but instead something he can’t control. if you could somehow switch places with him, you would.

“at least you were there with me,” you mumble, now laying down on the couch to rest your head in his lap. his fingers move to massage your scalp and you soon close your eyes, comforted by the warm feeling of his touch.

a smile is spreads over his lips and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before you drift off to sleep. one of your hands is holding the one he isn’t using to play with your hair and he squeezes it gently, wanting to reassure you that he’s there, even as you sleep. he will always be there.

NANAMI KENTO

“darling, i told you, you shouldn’t stay up so late to study. it will exhaust you,” your boyfriend speaks as you’re slumped over your desk, too tired to even move at this point.

you look up at him with a blank stare, not enjoying the fact that he was once again right, just like always. he is also not enjoying that he was right, this is not how he wants to find you after coming back from a shower. he was hoping you were taking a break as the room was quiet when he came back, but that hope quickly vanished as he found you by the desk, your head on the hard wood but still with notes in hand.

nanami puts his arms around your waist and lifts you out of the chair so he can gently place you on the bed. “tomorrow, you and i will stay at home and rest all day, okay?” he lies down with you and can’t help but smile to himself as you move to lay on top of him, seeming to want to be close.

you don’t reply to his previous words, you barely have the time as you slowly begin to fall asleep with your head resting on his chest. nanami strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb and smiles softly, his heart warming as he notices how comfortable you must be to sleep on him like this. “goodnight, my love. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend is already sitting in the living room as you arrive home from a long day of school. you had been there for much longer than anticipated as exams are coming up. studying at home is barely even a choice when megumi is there to keep you distracted, not that he does it on purpose.

he looks up at you as you walk towards the couch. you put your bag down onto the floor and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “i missed you so much ‘gumi,” you mumble while burying your face into his shoulder. he puts his arms around your waist and kisses your temple before resting his head against yours.

“i missed you too. how was school?” megumi watches as you sigh and bury yourself further into his skin. “horrible. i don’t think i’ll survive these exams. my teachers are out to kill me, i’m not joking,” you speak, slightly turning your head to catch a glimpse of his face that is so comforting to look at. the way his eyes go soft when looking at you, the blush slowly creeping up on his cheeks by the close proximity, how that smile he wears isn’t big, but it is definitely there. it’s a comforting feeling, knowing that you’re loved.

“i’m sure they’re trying to kill all students, but you’ll get through it, and when you’ve done all your exams i’ll let you decide what we do for an entire day,” he whispers which causes your eyes to widen in excitement, not that you aren’t the one deciding what to do most of the time. “so we can sleep for an entire day?” “if that’s what you want, then yes.”

you clap your hands happily as you keep your head on his shoulder, smiling at him softly as he goes to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. his hands are warm as they touch your face and your eyes soon close as you for the first time today relax. all those hours of studying really have taken almost all the energy out of you, so it isn’t surprising when you fall asleep not even five minutes after speaking to megumi.

the blush that was previously barely visible now grows in a quick pace when he notices that you’re fast asleep in his arms. maybe he’s done something right in his life when he now gets to see you like this, all comfortable in his embrace.

YUTA OKKOTSU

”you seem tired, baby,” yuta speaks as he finds you cooking dinner in the kitchen. you’re leaning against the counter with your head against a cupboard as your eyes try to flutter close every now and again. “mhm, i’m really tired,” you mumble while walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to come closer.

yuta smiles softly and strokes your hair before walking over to the pot of pasta that’s still cooking, taking over what you were doing so you can cling onto him instead. “should’ve just asked me to cook instead. you should rest,” he whispers. his voice is sweet and gentle as he speaks to you.

he sways the two of you back and forth while stroking your back. “maybe, but you’ve been so busy lately, i wanted to do something nice,” you mumble with your face in the crook of his neck. yuta sighs and looks at you with a slight pout. “but you’re still more tired than me, i like too cook too, you know? especially when it’s for you.”

you nod slightly as you fully relax in his arms. yuta never thought anyone could fall asleep while standing, but as he feels your grip on him loosen and how your knees buckle, he’s quick to hold onto you to keep you up. your eyes are closed and breath more even. “i love you,” he whispers, lifting you up in his arms to carry you towards the bedroom. “i’ll wake you up when dinner is ready, get some rest now.”

GOJO SATORU

the sun shines brightly on the two of you as you’re laying on the beach, a blanket spread out for you to relax in the warm sunlight. the sounds of waves fill your ears as well as some seagulls flying further away, annoying some other people who have decided to enjoy the peacefulness of the beach, even though it may not seem too peaceful for them right now.

gojo is laying on his back as you’re on your stomach, your chin on his chest as he looks down at you with a lovesick smile. “never seen you so calm before ‘toru,” you poke his cheek, causing him to playfully roll his eyes. “i’m much more calmer than you, have you seen me? always calm and composed.” “you wish, everyone else would disagree with you.”

he wraps his arms around you so you’ll come impossibly closer and he pulls you close to his chest, pulling you on top of him, not giving a single care in the world for those around you. if they would think you were too affectionate with one another, he would simply just give them a glare and then look at you with the softest look in his eyes. “my pretty girl,” he whispers, chuckling slightly when he notices you hiding your face in his chest. “so cute.”

this time, he’s the one to poke your cheek. “hey, don’t hide,” he keeps poking your cheek and you let out a whine, swatting his hand away. “i’m trying to sleep,” you mumble, holding onto his wrist so he’ll stop poking you. “am i that comfortable? you feel safe around me, don’t you?”

you try to ignore his blabbering, keeping your eyes shut as he continues to look down towards you. “i’ll be quiet, then. just because you’re so cute,” he whispers, but you don’t seem to hear it as you’re fast asleep. your head is still resting on his chest and your hand is still holding his wrist, now a little more loosely. gojo allows you to keep holding it as he places a kiss to the top of your head. “the cutest.”

GETO SUGURU

you’re sitting in between his legs, your back resting against his chest as the two of you are sitting on the couch and watching tv together. there’s currently an old movie playing as you couldn’t find anything else to watch, but anything seems to be okay as long as you’re with one another. today is the first day in a long time where you can just be lazy, so you’ve been stuck to each other the entire day.

geto has an arm wrapped around you while kissing your cheek every once in a while, just wanting to stay close to you. “what do you want for dinner tonight?” he asks, his lips moving against the warm skin of your cheek as he speaks. you turn your head to look at him, smiling tiredly. “whatever you want to cook, i’m happy with anything.”

he pecks your lips gently and strokes your hair. “are you tired?” you nod and when seeing that, he shifts slightly so you can lay more comfortably against his chest. “alright, you can sleep if you want, i’ll be staying here,” he mumbles while still stroking your hair, getting yet another smile out of you as you relax in his arms and lean back against him.

you close your eyes and intertwine your fingers with the hand that he’s resting on your side. it’s bigger than yours and envelops your hand perfectly. “i’ll cook dinner when you wake up, but just rest for now,” he squeezes your hand gently and leans down to rest his chin on top of your head.

it doesn’t take too long for the sound of snores to finally reach his ears and geto smiles to himself when noticing this, still holding your hand in his while the other one keeps stroking your hair so you’ll stay asleep. “i love you, darling. rest well.”

ITADORI YUJI

he’s been busy playing video games most of the evening. now as night is slowly creeping in, he’s still speaking into his microphone, telling his friends to either move forward, to wait for him, to help him and so much more that you cannot hear from the living room.

tiredness has begun to take over your body and even though you wanted to wait for yuji to finish gaming, he will most likely pull an all nighter which you are not up for. so instead, you get up from the couch and walk into the small gaming room where he is still sitting in front of the computer.

“yuji?” even if your voice is rather quiet and he’s wearing headphones, he quickly turns his chair around to look at you who’s gazing at him with bags under your eyes. “i’m gonna go to sleep, it’s getting late,” you mumble, but yuji opens his arms up as if he wants you to hug him, and who are you to reject when he’s been stuck in this room for so long.

you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his wrap around your waist. you let out a light squeal as he lifts you up to put you in his lap. “five more minutes, then i’ll stop playing. can you wait here when i play?” he asks and there is no way you can say no when he’s giving you those puppy eyes he so often shows to you.

so here you are, resting in his lap as he’s clicking away on his computer. your head is resting on his shoulder and your eyes are closed even as he keeps speaking to his friend, this time a little more quietly however. “are you asleep?” he soon asks and looks down for a swift second before noticing that you are indeed sleeping.

he tries to finish playing the game as fast as he can and then switches off the computer while also taking off his headphones. a kiss is placed to your forehead before he lifts you up and carries you all the way to the bedroom, gently placing you on the bed so he can get in beside you and hold you close to him. “goodnight baby, see you tomorrow…”

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[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader smut

[dovrt]

Amortentia (Jegulus)

Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes. 

He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it. 

Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become. 

Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin. 

James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat. 

It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them. 

Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep. 

Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology. 

Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe. 

James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell. 

Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place. 

Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance. 

Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them. 

“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”

James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties

James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever. 

“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.

Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”

“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”

“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool” 

James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories. 

That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did. 

So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled. 

But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint. 

“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”

“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”

“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe. 

James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with. 

For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her. 

But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same. 

James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely. 

He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.

He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed. 

He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before. 

Three simple words. 

And what if they were a lie?

A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door. 

James would have recognised those curls anywhere. 

Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong. 

All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.

So yeah, fuck the potion. 

James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.

That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.

The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied. 

Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.

James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it. 

“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”

James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away. 

Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff. 

Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest. 

And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play. 

When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look. 

“Fucking hell, Prongs”

“Don’t tell Padfoot”

#jegulus oneshot #jegulus #dead gay wizards from the 70s #starchaser #amortentia #james and regulus #regulus black #james potter #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you. 

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction. 

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.  

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly. 

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.  

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says. 

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze. 

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit. 

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement. 

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge. 

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.  

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore. 

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?” 

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.  

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together. 

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth. 

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him. 

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth. 

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand. 

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his. 

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment. 

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed. 

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready.  But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own. 

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent. 

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both. 

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”  

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie. 

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case. 

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back. 

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up. 

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken. 

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it. 

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed. 

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon smut #simon #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost #ghost cod smut #cod ghost #cod mwf2 #cod

[syddsatyrn]

Omg your requests are open. I've seen some of your work and it's amazing❤️

Can you do a smut with Lucifer. He's become my new obsession.

⛧Idle Time is the Devil's Play⛧ By Sydd Satyrn

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Shameless smut, fingering, swearing, fluff

⛧Words: 2.5k

⛧Notes: This was actually rather fun to write, thank you for the request! My head canon in this one is that Lucifer wears reading glasses.

The day started out on the wrong foot from the second you woke up. The dishes are piled up, laundry needs to be done, and how is there so much dust in here?! Nifty does her best to keep up but she's only one tiny person. You begin with the dishes, stack and stacks of plates and bowls, cups and flatware cover the counter. You let out a sigh of disappointment. After working for a short while, Angel Dust walks in with a surprised look on his face. “I thought you were dating the King of Hell, why are you wasting your time with chores?” The tall spider asks, holding a stack of dishes from his room. “Angel, I work here. I don't know how many times I have to tell you…” You reply with an eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, Charlie’s dreams, blah, blah, motherly nonsense. I’m just sayin’ you could totally slack off and get away with it.” He says, placing more dishes on the counter. You give him a side eye, and Angel laughs. “Chill out toots, I’m just playin’.” He says and heads back to his room. He’s right, you could slack off if you wanted to, but you felt the need to try for Charlie. You and Lucifer have been dating for a little over 6 months and within that time you’ve become rather fond of his sweet daughter and her dreams to rehabilitate sinners. So you took on a role at the hotel and did what you could to help make it possible. You wanted to impress Lucifer's daughter, maybe one day she might even see you as family, if you’re lucky.  You finally finish the dishes and take a step back and admire your handiwork. A clean sink, and counters, all the dirty dishes are now washed, dried and put away. It took a good chunk of the morning but it was worth it. The kitchen looks spotless and you decide to move onto the next chore. You tidied a few empty rooms and then delivered clean towels to each room with an occupant. You’re already running out of energy and it's only noon. “You look like you could use some coffee.” Husk says from behind the bar while wiping down the countertops. “You read my mind, Husker.” You say and take a seat at the bar. He pours you a cup of black coffee and sets it in front of you. “Thank you, you have no idea how much I need this.” “Don’t mention it” He says and returns to his countertops. Husk may seem grumpy all the time but you’ve come to know him as a rather genuine and helpful person.

You drink your coffee slowly and contemplate what you should do next. There are so many chores that need to be done, where should you even start? Nifty should be cleaning the bathrooms or taking out the trash by now. You decide to start dusting next, it shouldn't be too hard. 

After dusting the common areas, you begin on the hallways. You start at the top floor and work your way down. You hum quietly to yourself while wiping the window sills. As you turn a corner, you run into Angel Dust, and spill dusting spray all over his jacket. “Shit!” He says while wiping his jacked off with his hand, Angel looks frantic and upset, you’ve never seen him so scared. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” You immediately apologize. “Y/N, I can't find Fat Nuggets anywhere! I took my eyes off of him for one second and he disappeared! My poor baby!” Angel says, clearly in a state. He looks like he might even cry. It’s gonna be okay, we just…need to split up! I’ll head downstairs and you stay up here.”You say, trying to remain calm. Angel nods, and you both go your separate ways.

You search all the rooms on the first and second floor, the lobby, the bar, and even the basement. There is no sign of the little pig. You were sure you would find him rooting around somewhere in the kitchen but still, no Fat Nuggets. You notice the back door is slightly ajar, you definitely didn’t use that door when you were down here earlier. You open it, expecting to have solved the mystery, but still nothing. You lean against the wall and let out a defeated sigh. “Dammit, Fat Nuggets, where are you?” You say out loud. Suddenly there is a rustlin noise inside a tipped over trash can. You lift the lid and inside is a very happy looking little pig. You scoop him up and give him a big hug, he must have gottens stuck out there looking for a snack. As you carry Fat Nuggets upstairs you hear a shriek of joy coming from Angel Dust. “My baby!” He cries as you hand him over. “Don't you ever leave my side again!” He says, baby talking to the little pig while giving him a snuggle. “I owe you one, Y/N.” Angel says with a smile. “Dont worry about it, I’m just happy we found the little guy.” You gently boop the little pig’s nose. —------------ As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, a sense of tranquility settled over the hotel. The warm glow of the fading sunlight painted the walls in soft, golden hues made the place feel somewhat serene. Finding Fat Nuggets took up the rest of your afternoon and you were feeling unusually exhausted. 

 You head down to the lobby and see Nifty cleaning up the last of the dusting you did earlier.

She greets you as usual. “Good Evening, Miss Y/N! How was your day?” She pauses her cleaning and stares up at you with her single cyclops eye. “I am so worn out, Nifty. How are you?” You return, smiling down at her tiny figure.

“I’m okay. There aren't as many bugs in the hotel to squish anymore so I’m getting pretty bored.” You smile at her, Not entirely sure how to respond to that statement. She always says the wildest stuff, but you’re used to it. Alastor says she's always been pretty quirky. “You should go spend time with your boyfriend.” Nifty teases,”I’ll deal with the rest of the chores.” “Thank you, I could really use a break. Today was a mess.” You say with a sigh of relief. After walking down the long, lavish hallway to Lucifer's room. You open the door slowly, you don't want to wake him if he is asleep. The King is already in bed wearing nothing but a robe and his reading glasses. The lamp next on the bedside table is the only source of light in the room. The blonde haired man is reading a book and glances over at you when he hears you come in. “I was wondering when you’d be here.” He says with a smile on his face. He closes his book and sets it on the nightstand along with his gold rimmed glasses. “Sorry I’m late, I’ve had a really long day.” You admit as you sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh? What did you get up to today?” He asks and crawls toward you. “There was a lot to do around the hotel today, a mountain of dishes and so much cleaning. Like seriously, where does all this dust come from?! Then Angel lost Fat Nuggets and he was outside…” You ramble on and Lucifer listens intently. “Fat Nuggets?” Lucifer chuckles and cocks his head to the side. “His pet pig.” You remind him. “Oh, I see…” Lucifer places his hand on your cheek. His warm touch sends shivers down your spine. He pulls your face closer and kisses your lips gently. Your heart flutters and you kiss him back, blushing slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Lucifer laughs, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “Sounds like you need some time off. I notice you do a lot around here, you shouldn’t wear yourself out like that.” “I just want to show Charlie that I support her dream and believe in her.” Your words make Lucifer’s heart swell, the fact that you are trying so hard to impress his daughter is quite possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He smiles at you, his expression full of love and admiration. You return his smile, your face bright red. He pulls you in for a tight hug, burying his face into your hair. “You’re doing just fine, my love. You can let up a little.” He whispers in your ear, “You should let me take care of you for a couple days.” Lucifer's voice is sticky sweet, you can see why Eve was so easily swayed. You melt into his arms and he kisses the top of your head. “I know exactly what you need…” Lucifer days, his voice laced with a mischievous tone. “Do you…?” You ask and giggle at his bold statement. He reluctantly lets go of you and takes off to the bathroom connected to his room. You can hear him turn on the faucet to fill up the tub. Lucifer walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he grabs your hand and pulls you close, his eyes half lidded. He kisses your cheek and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Come with me, my dear.” He leads you to the bathroom, the tub is filled about half way with warm water. The room is filling with steam and the lights are low, a few candles are lit. The ambiance is warm and charming just like he is. Your eyes widen and you feel Lucifer hands tug at your clothes, silently telling you to take them off. Your face feels hot as you start to remove your clothing, piece by piece. You leave them in a pile on the floor, trying your best to keep your composure. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this…” You say, Lucifer smirks, pleased with himself and your reactions. He removes his robe, revealing his perfect body. He steps into the tub and turns to you.

"Well, are you coming or not?" He teases, you take his hand and slowly get in the tub with him. He sits behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. Together, you both leaned back against the edge of the tub, letting the warmth of the water soothe your weary muscles. The stress of the day melted away, you could feel your muscles relax, you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

"See? Isn't this much better?" Lucifer purrs in your ear.  

You nod and let your eyes close. You can feel him kiss your temple and you can't help but smile. “I definitely needed this…”You murmured, Lucifer's hands begin to roam your body, his hands trace down your arms. 

"You have the most beautiful skin...I can't help but touch it." He whispers and kisses your neck, you sigh softly. "And you always smell like vanilla, I adore that..."

“You flatter me, Lucifer.” You reply. He kisses the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands begin to massage your shoulders, "Are you cold?" He asks, noticing the goosebumps forming on your skin. With gentle hands, his fingertips traced delicate patterns along the contours of your skin. In the hushed ambiance, time seemed to slow, as if caught in the embrace of the moment. “No, I’m fine.” You assure him.” You’re just really good with your hands.” “Is that so?” Lucifer says with a playful tone. He can barely contain himself, the way your body responds to his touch is fascinating to him. Lucifer's hands travel lower down your torso and gently cup your breasts. You hum softly and push your body closer to his.

"My, you're a needy one tonight, aren't you?" He chuckles and runs his thumbs over your nipples. "I think I know exactly how to help you." His hands travel lower and lower until they reach your core. Your breath hitches and your face turns a bright shade of red and Lucifer notices. "Is that okay, my love?" He asks, making sure he's not overstepping his bounds.

"Y-yes, it's more than okay.”

Lucifer's fingers explore your folds, teasing and prodding. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body. You gasp as he enters a finger into you. You moan softly and your back slightly arches. "That's it, my love, just let go, let me take care of you." The King’s tone is lustful and alluring. Lucifer adds a second finger and starts thrusting in and out, his thumb rubs your clit. He moves his fingers faster and harder. “Luci…fuck…” You swear followed by another moan, the pleasure is overwhelming. You can feel him smile against your skin, his hand working wonders between your thighs. You bite your lip and whimper, gripping the edge of the tub. Lucifer bites the tip of your ear and quickens his pace. “That’s it my dear, are you gonna cum for me?” Lucifer groans and pushes his fingers deeper inside you. You let out a whimper, a feeling of warmth growing deep within your core. Between the steam from the bathtub and all the stimulation you start to feel a little dizzy. Lucifer groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He focuses back on your clit, his middle finger massaging little circles, picking up speed with each second that passes. You can't stop the moans from escaping your mouth, the pleasure is too much. You can't hold back any longer and your body is rocked with wave after wave of pleasure. Lucifer's fingers move slower, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your face is bright red. Lucifer pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Are you alright?" He asks, kissing your neck. You nod and completely relax into Lucifer's body. You lay in the bathtub together, his fingers caress your arm, he presses another kiss to your temple.

"I think it's time you got some rest." He says, barely above a whisper. You both get out of the tub and Lucifer wraps a towel around you.

"You're absolutely perfect." He says with a grin and kisses your nose. You smile at him, continue to dry off and wrap your hair in a towel. Lucifer loans you a pair of his silk pajamas, they are just slightly too big for you. But all that does is add to how comfortable they are. You lay in bed next to him, the covers pulled over your shoulders. He pulls you close and runs his fingers through your hair.

"So, tomorrow you will do no chores, no errands, just relax and take it easy.” He says, with a slightly demanding tone. You lay your head down on his bare chest and he picks up his book. “Yes sir…no chores…” You murmured against his skin. “He chuckles, "Good girl. That's what I like to hear.” He praises while putting his glasses back on. You're exhausted from the day and can barely keep your eyes open. Before long, you fall asleep in the arms of your love, ready for a trouble free day tomorrow. 

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #syddanswersasks

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Starry Eyes

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

“Starry eyes

What can I do for your attention.”

Summary: Theodore’s late to class but Snape blessed him with the opportunity of sitting next to a cute Ravenclaw who’s no help at all.

1 >

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Clockwise or counterclockwise? 

You honestly didn’t even know anymore. No matter how many hours you spent on reading the thick potions textbook or wasting bottles after bottles of ink on notes you still barely passed the class. 

You were starting to get a headache from trying to picture the text in your head. Everything was starting to become foggy. You sat down, defeated, and began doodling on the parchment instead of writing detailed instructions on how to make the stupid potion. So much for a Ravenclaw. 

Hmm off shoulder or puffed sleeves?

 You bit your lip trying to decide which option would look better on the dress you sketched out. The classroom was calming with little chattering among your classmates in the back allowing you to work easier. You could never work or do anything in silence, it drove you crazy. 

Suddenly the door slammed open causing you to jump a bit in your seat. 

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Nott, although your presence was expected half an hour ago,” Snape drawled out in his infamous monotone voice. 

“Sorry I overslept,” he shrugged while adjusting his tie. Some students who were listening in laughed. With his messed up tie and ‘burn marks’ on his neck, it was clear that he was definitely doing more than just sleeping. 

Snape nodded and pointed at the empty seat next to you, not surprising anyone that he didn’t take away any house points from his house. 

Theodore eyed you as he walked towards your table. He would’ve preferred sitting with his house, but he could never pass up the chance to sit next to a pretty girl. White blouse with a lace neckline and sleeves, black plaid skirt, Ravenclaw tie, black sleek hair, and a white headband. You didn’t fit into the usual type of girls he went for, but you were cute. 

Theodore took the seat next to you before tapping on your shoulder. 

You turned to him and almost jumped when you found his eyes on you. Gorgeous blueish grayish eyes. 

So pretty, this might be my new favorite color. 

“So uh,” Theo cleared his throat ignoring the fact that he swore he just saw your eyes sparkle, “what are we doing?” 

You blinked. Under the pressure of a somewhat attractive boy it made your memory much worse. 

“Umm, we’re brewing a potion and writing?” 

You had hoped that didn’t come out as a question and hoped that he’d just nod and ask someone else. 

Theodore raised an eyebrow and glanced at your blue tie again. 

“Which potion exactly?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were lying to him. 

“Antidote to potions. Wait, no poisons. The common one. Wait, maybe the uncommon ones. Well I don’t think there’s a big difference. I mean, shouldn’t the uncommon ones be stronger and still fix the common ones?” You rambled on, looking off to the side lost in your own thoughts. 

Theodore blinked. The sorting hat rarely makes errors, maybe you were high but then again Lovegood’s also a Ravenclaw. The looney population in Ravenclaw must be high. 

“Why can’t they just make a super strong potion that fixes every poison? That’d make our jobs easier and we wouldn’t have to memorize so many potions,” you giggled as you turned back to your sketches. 

Theodore looked over your shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of your paper but instead your sketches caught his eye. You may be no help in potions, but you sure can draw. 

“Are you going to make that?” He asked while you squirmed at the close proximity of his face to yours. 

“Yes,” you mumbled shyly, scared of the criticism that might follow. You loved designing and fashion. It was one of the only things that came naturally to you, but coming from a family of doctors you were vulnerable to criticism for not following in their path. 

“Cute,” he said before his eyes found your potions paper. 

Common poisons. Theodore noticed that you only had half the page completed and chuckled. 

He got up towards the ingredients cabinet and grabbed his ingredients and the ones you were missing. 

Potions came easy to him. Not only did the teacher bias his house, but his mother was a skilled potions maker as well. Matter of fact her entire side of the family were. He had spent most of his summers in his manor reading journals of potion experiments and advanced information that weren’t even in his school textbooks. 

He quickly prepared his ingredients and started on his potion while continuing yours on the side. Luckily you were both in the back and Snape couldn’t catch him. He wrote down his notes and instructions making a mental note to tell you to copy them down later. You’d need it. 

Maybe he was also placed in the wrong house. Today, Hufflepuff seemed more fitting. You were lucky that you’re cute. 

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