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thexsilentxwordsmith · 4 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Cockwarming Simon as you two make out in his office.

From the request here

“I need it in ya, baby,” Simon gasps in between the breaks in your lips connection. “Just for a bit. Ya know ya fuckin’ want me in ya too.”

The tiny office is silent save for the deep groans and sharp breaths as Simon holds you close, you perched comfortably on his beefy thighs while he sits at his desk so that he can steal kiss after heated kiss, relishing in the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Rough hands run up the length of your back, following your spine over your shirt until they reach the back of your head where he uses them to draw your face in tighter until your mouth stings from the pressure.

Sitting in the middle of his lap you can feel his cock poking against the cheek of your ass, pulsing and throbbing as it strains against the fabric of his pants. It’s no surprise what he needs; it’s the same thing he wants every time he calls you into his office for a “meeting” during your lunch break, which is becoming more and more frequent these days.

You are a very addictive problem, one that he is constantly losing himself in and making every excuse in the book to spend as much time wrapped up in that he can. A pretty thing like you, how is he supposed to keep his hands off? If that means setting up a quick make out session to get through the day, then he’s gonna make it happen one way or another.

“Have training in a bit,” you mutter as you break from his mouth just for a split second. “Don’t want to be late.”

He’s right back on you before the last beat of your reply can hit, not wanting to be parted from you for longer than needed. It takes a minute before he tries to reason with you again. “Not gonna be late,” he reassures. “But how the hell am I supposed to stay outta ya, hmm? Not when ya feel so fuckin’ good. Just want ya to warm me for a bit and then I’ll make sure you’re outta here with plenty ‘a fuckin’ time.”

His hand rubs along one of your thighs as the other is still tangled in the strands of your hair, not wanting to give you the chance to get away from the barrage of his lips. Fuck, it’s getting harder to think straight the longer his mouth captures yours in that tangled dance that he seems to be an expert in. You lean into his embraces a bit more and Simon is sure he has you right where he wants you now.

There is not a chance in hell you are going to deny him. “You better make it up to me later,” you say breathlessly and you can feel his lips upturn into a smile against your own.

The grip on your hair tightens as he gives it a sharp tug. “Take off your fuckin’ pants.”

That gravely, heavily accented tone sends a full shiver down your spine. No one can make a demand like that sound so fucking good, especially now that he’s made you delirious off his kisses alone.

The officers building is full of people today so privacy is near non-existent and though you know this is probably a terrible idea, you can’t be stopped. Helping you off his lap Simon sets you on your feet to the side of the desk, giving you the space to do what you need to do. He watches with hungry eyes as you undo the button keeping your bottoms secure; goddamn you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?

Adjusting himself, he sits back more in his chair. “Slower,” he demands firmly.

Instantly your movements become measured as you take your time undressing while you keep those beautiful eyes directly on him. He doesn’t break eye contact at all; instead his hand slips down over his abdomen to the crotch of his own pants where he tugs at the fabric tenting there before massaging the spot as he watches your little striptease. Those unflattering uniforms keep all those voluptuous curves hidden from his view and so any chance he gets to see you out of them is a treat indeed.

You drag the zipper down painfully slow, making sure to give him all the tantalizing he wants. As the front now hangs open, you slide your hands back to your hips where you slip your fingers into the waistband and begin to push them down until the top seam of the panties clinging around your hips are exposed.

Eyes unblinking, breathing stayed, Simon is caught in the moment, his hand pulling up the hem of his shirt just over his navel so that he can fiddle with his belt buckle until he can pry the damned thing loose. He grunts as he has to roll his hips back so that he can slip his hand between the bulk of stocky muscle on his lower abdomen and the seam of his pants to get it off. The metallic clink rings out and he quickly undoes the rest, plunging his hand inside to pull out his cock so that he can palm it and give it a proper stroke as you continue on.

Instantly you freeze as your eye catches that trail of sparse hair traveling down the line of his stomach below his belly button towards his member and your mouth begins to salivate and a hard, throbbing pulse between your thighs makes your legs feel like liquid. God, you are so down bad for your superior that it is bordering on pathetic the way that even that small patch of hair has you chomping at the bit.

Simon clears his throat as he catches your sight lingering and as you meet the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his kiss-raw lips, you refocus on the task at hand. These pants still have to go and time is of the essence. You continue on, pushing the fabric down over the curve of your ass to your thighs and then your ankles in the same slow fashion, only this time more unsteady as your heartbeat pounds. They hit the ground and those damned pants are finally off; there you stand before him in nothing but your panties.

“Off,” he hisses as his head nods down to the last article of clothing keeping you from being filled by him.

There’s heat bubbling in your cheeks now, making them flush, and though you are almost rendered dumb just from the tension alone there’s still a little fire in you yet. “What’s the magic word?” you ask with a good bit of sass.

A chuckle escapes his mouth as his hand strokes harder around his dick; he does love a bit of cocky pushback, but make no mistake that that will be remembered for later. His mouth yearns to devour your lips again and he doesn’t want to wait any more than he already has, so he lets it be…for now. Leaning forward in his seat he reaches out and his large hand wraps around your wrist to pull you back to him.

“Keep ‘em on all ya fuckin’ want sweetheart, don’t need ya to take ‘em off for what I wanna do,” he groans as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to move yourself back on top of him straddling over his lap.

Fair enough.

You can feel his warm fingers twitching with anticipation as they move in between your thighs and up against your clothed sex before his digits hook themselves into the crotch of your panties and wrench them to one side roughly. The seam digs into that soft area at your upper inner thigh as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck while a hand on your hip aligns your body at the perfect spot over top of him.

Holding the base of his cock, Simon pushes down on your hip and you don’t fight it. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, now let’s get this in,” he praises as the tip pokes through your petals and against your entrance. A harder press on your body and his cock shoves its way inside, stretching you wide as it slips in and you whine inside your closed mouth as you struggle to take him in so quickly.

“F-fuck,” he exclaims, his body shuddering as you come all the way down until you are once again sitting on his lap only this time with all of him thrust deep inside you. “Isn’t this better? Goddammit, this is where ya fuckin’ belong princess.”

His forehead comes to rest on your own, staggered breath being siphoned between the pair of your lips before he leans up into you and crushes your mouths back together in sloppy kisses that leave you with a yearning that situates itself deep in your core. Your mouth is like candy, sweet and addictive, and each brush of your lips against his own only makes him vibrate with a need for more. Long fingers find their way back to tangle in your hair to grip it hard as he smashes his face in until your features are molded together.

Those soft, supple lips are his to ruin and he will, by fuck he will. With each fiery embrace he lays his claim upon your mouth as if he wishes to bind your faces together so he never has to do without their euphoria. Without warning his strong, thick tongue parts your lips with ease and plunges fully inside your mouth to dance and twist with your own, filling the orifice to capacity as he shoves it down the back of your throat.

You can barely intake air with your mouth full of his tongue, but it doesn’t matter. Suffocation feels like a dream when you are stuffed so overwhelmingly from above and below. Your pussy holds him tight, tight enough that the throbbing from the blood rushing to engorge his cock feels like he’s being stroked without any movement. Each throb has a visceral reaction and you can feel the wetness gathering by the second with every beat.

The dizzying intensity of his kisses and the pulsating of his cock are too much and leave you clenching your thighs, squeezing him in the process as you cannot help rocking your hips, but that is dangerous territory. Simon is already teetering close to the razor’s edge.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ move,” he says with a sharp hiss of breath, wrangling your hips down square against his pelvis with a heavy grip so that you cannot shift them at all. “We don’t have time to do this proper, just need to feel ya to get through this fuckin’ day and then I’ll do it right later.”

There is desperation on his lips something vicious and it can be felt in the way his embraces become more aggressive; through the haze fogging your brain you instinctively know he is holding on by a thread. Doing as he says, you do your best to keep yourself still to allow his cock to soak in you just as he wants.

Your arms around his neck tighten as you grip on to sanity and his hands travel back up your body to cradle your face between them. There’s nothing outside of the taste of your lips, the burn from the pressure of your mouths together, the throbbing from inside your tight pussy as it coats his cock in your nectar. It all becomes an insatiable blur as his mind numbs and he forgets everything else outside of the ecstasy of you.

The longer he’s buried in you the more your walls swell to squeeze him tighter and he does not realize what is happening. Simon forgets that he is getting too worked up, succumbing to all that pleasure that he cannot stop his body from its more primal instincts. With each passing minute the tension from the coil knotting in his abdomen is drawing closer together, threatening to snap at any second and send him coming and coming hard.

Eyes closed, mind gone, body so warm it feels like he is on fire, the feeling of your body driving him insane, it is all too much. That coil has tightened all it can and he finally becomes aware of it just as you accidentally rock your hips ever so slightly, but it is enough that there is nothing else he can do other than accept what is about to happen.

“Fuck,” he groans against your parted lips as he realizes that he has miscalculated just how much he can take. “Ugh…fuck, baby.”

It’s too late, this cannot be stopped and at the last second he reacts. With a sharp, loud grunt he picks your hips up and rocks his own back to pull out of you just as he pops off. The sticky, warm emission spurts out of him with force and up onto his exposed belly, catching the bottom half of his t-shirt in its intensity. His lips lock to yours in an effort to keep the noise from those deep, guttural whimpers down as he rolls his hips, milking every last out of the aching tip that he can as you grind against it.

A couple of minutes pass before his pace finally slows and comes to a stop with nothing left to give as that swift flow of exhaustion floods his body. Those bruised lips unlatch from your own as he falls against the back of the chair to sit limp as he works to regulate his breathing. Being so worked up is something he is still getting used to, losing himself like that is not a problem he had before you came along. But no one has ever made him feel as if he’d been struck by a live wire before: all excitement whenever you are around.

Just one of the hazards of being with such a vixen.

There is still a pulsing in you that causes your body to continue to ache, but as your wandering eyes land on the watch around Simon’s wrist you see that there are only a few minutes left before you need to be in training and you still have to make it across base. Carefully, you get up off of him and make your way to your pants, redressing fast as those brown eyes cling to your every move.

“See what ya fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart? I’m a goddamn mess for ya,” he sighs as he watches you fix your soaked panties back into place before pulling your pants back on, sad to see such a gorgeous sight be concealed once more.

“Seems like we have that in common,” you smile as you finish up and lean back into him, using his thighs as support as you give him one last, lingering kiss. You’re already gonna be late, might as well make it worth it.

Simon wants you to stay, to have you for the rest of the afternoon, but he knows that duty calls and if he doesn’t tell you to go then it’s only going to get harder to leave. “Best get outta here ‘fore I change my mind and do somethin’ stupid to get us both in fuckin’ trouble,” he says with a nod of his head. “We’ll finish this up later, I swear.”

You lean in one more time for a short peck before turning tail and quickly making your way out of the office. Simon’s gaze lingers on your form until you exit and shut the door behind you, leaving him alone to deal with the mess he’s made of himself while his raw lips are already craving yours again.

“She is a problem,” he chuckles to himself, “a very big fuckin’ problem.”

Tag list: @llelannie

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marvelslittlewhore · 4 months

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Always There For You

REQUEST | HIRT/COMFORT WITH RAFE CAMERON PLSSS

PAIRING | rafe cameron x maybank!reader

WARNINGS | allusion to child abuse, luke maybank, bruises, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, love confession, kinda enemies to lovers?

A/N | my first ever Rafe fic so bare with me 🙂

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Rafe was sitting in the living room, in the middle of rolling a joint when he heard rapid knocking on the front door. At first, he ignored it but the knocking got more aggressive. He groaned, getting up and marching to the front door.

"What?" He snapped the second the door was open. He expected anything but you standing before him, arms wrapped around yourself and clothes drenched from walking through the pouring rain. "Maybank? What are you-" He trailed off when he finally noticed the state you were in.

The bruises that lingered on your face and the bloody nose had Rafe already silently fuming. You and Rafe have an unspoken friendship if you dare to say that. Yes, you shouldn't like him. He's your brother's enemy, but Rafe was never actually rude to you, he does the usual bickering but in the end, you would both smile at each other and just go your ways.

Rafe himself doesn't understand what draws him to you. Maybe it's the way you're always smiling at him or standing up for your friends, even delivering a few punches when needed. Seeing you now, teary-eyed and hurt has him clenching and un-clenching his fists.

You sniffled, rubbing your arm nervously. "I'm sorry, I just...my brother's at a party and I didn't want to worry him. I...I didn't know where else to go..." you looked down at your feet. "Sorry, this was a stupid idea-"

Rafe didn't respond, you were about to turn around and leave but he quickly pulled you inside the house and into a hug, kicking the door shut with his foot.

The second you were in his embrace you broke down, sobs ragging through your shivering body. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt and face pressed into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered, his hand resting on the side of your head, with the other he rubbed your back soothingly.

He pulled back to get a better look at your face, brushing a stray of hair out of your face and wiping the tears away.

"Who did this to you?" he asked and you closed your eyes shaking your head. "Hey, Hey, you're safe here. Okay?"

You open your eyes again. You could see in his eyes that he was truly concerned for your well-being.

Taking a shaky breath you muttered. "M-My dad...it was my Dad."

You watched him taking a deep breath before he goes to grab his keys. You quickly took hold of his arm.

"Wait! Please don't go... don't leave me here alone." you whimpered, bottom lip quivering and your grip tight. "Please, Rafe."

He sighed, placing the keys back in their designed bowl. "Come, let's get you fixed up." he grabbed your hand, leading you upstairs to his room. He made you sit on the edge of his bed, before going to the attached bathroom.

While he was gone you could take in his room, the luxurious furniture and pictures that probably cost more than you will ever archive in your life.

A few moments later Rafe came back with a small first-aid kit, a damp rag, and fresh clothes for you. He kneels before you, placing the stuff beside you, and starts to gently rub the dried blood off your face.

You hissed a few times when he graced a sore spot but you couldn't focus on the pain right now, more on how beautiful his eyes were. You developed feelings for Rafe for a while now, but never made a move because you knew JJ wouldn't approve of this at all.

At this moment you couldn't care less about your brother or the pogues. Your only focus is on Rafe and how gently he's with you. "Thank you..." you mumbled after he put the rag aside.

He flashes you a little smile. "No need to thank me. I've barely done anything."

"You could've just slammed the door in my face." You remarked, smiling a little.

"True. I would've to everyone else, but never to you," he confessed, continuing to fix you up.

"And why is that?" you asked in a teasing tone.

Suddenly he stopped what he was doing, his hands falling to rest on your knees, his eyes locking onto yours. "Because I like you. I like you a lot, actually."

"Y-You do?"

"How can I not? You're fucking amazing," he said, his hands now reaching up to cup your face, smirking. "For a Maybank."

You hit his arm playfully. "You're a jerk."

"Probably, but I still fixed your beautiful face." he teased, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you..."

"It's not your fault." you reminded him softly and he pulled back again.

"And neither is it yours, it's him, it's all him, you understand?"

When you nodded he grabbed the clothes next to you, placing them on your lap. "You should go take a warm shower. Don't want you getting a cold now."

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, smiling when you realized he gave you some of his clothes and closed the door behind you.

Rafe was patiently waiting on his bed, planning in his head what to do when he pays good old Luke Maybank a visit tomorrow. There's no way he will get away with this.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when he hears the bathroom door unlock, smiling at the way his shirt almost reaches your knees. His smile faltered when he saw the bruises that formed all over your legs.

"Feeling better?" he asked, getting up to pull you into another hug.

You nod against him, mumbling softly. "Just tired."

Nothing more had to be said and Rafe swept you off the ground. You yelped in surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carried you to the left side of his bed, lowering you onto it with utmost care.

He pulled the covers up before smoothly jumping over you on the free spot, savoring the way you laughed at him and hoping to hear it every day.

You were both lying on your sides, facing each other so close with your nose almost touching his. You reached a hand up to caress his face while he was tracing his finger up and down your arm.

"I-" Before you could speak his lips were on yours in a captivating kiss that had you closing your eyes and your head spiraling.

His hand went to the back of your neck to pull you closer, if that was even impossible. He only pulled back to let you breathe, smirking at your flustered expression.

"You don't know how long I've waited to do this," he said and you chuckled, having waited for an opportunity like this yourself for too long.

"I can imagine." you smiled at him, shuffling closer to snuggle against him.

He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. He's glad he could finally confess his feelings for you, the situation could have been a better one though, but a situation like that would never happen again now that he's got you safely in his arms and you can be sure he'll never let go of you again.

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Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe obx #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx angst #rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader

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phfenomena · 4 months

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“you’re my only hope of getting into heaven, angel.” || William H. Bonney x reader

giving cowboy realness fr

| WARNINGS- sexual innuendo

| William H. Bonney x Reader fluff

the morning air is crisp and clean as it filters in through the windows and propagates throughout the entire house. the sudden chill and the bright rays of light beaming into your eyes forced them open.

jesus christ it feels like the middle of january in here.

your gaze settles upon your still slumbering partner. you shuffle closer and wedge yourself into his arms, your chest pressing into his. he stirs lightly as you continue to make yourself comfortable, as if he’s a heated rag doll.

“what are you doing, angel?” he croaks above you, voice thickly laced with sleep.

you hum softly “nothing, just freezing in here. you’re warm, like a nice campfire.” he chuckles softly and pulls you closer. his head perks up to press a kiss against the top of yours.

“it’s so damn cold, i might already have hypothermia. you’ll have to warm me up better than this.” you nod as you talk and stare lightly up at him, your smile residing in her eyes.

“why don’t i get up and close the windows, doll? that might fix your deadly condition.” he muses from above you. you ponder the idea but ultimately reject.

“you’ll leave me alone and cold in bed. you said i was your sweetheart. how could you leave me when i’m on death's doorstep?” you pout and he rolls his eyes.

“you’re too dramatic for your own good.” he rubs his arms over every inch he can reach to bring your temperature up.

“i won’t let you go dying on me, darling. you’re my only hope of getting into heaven, angel, so we gotta go together. i’ll have to jump the gates if you go first.” he almost whispers against your ear, his voice still not wanting to wake up. you look up at him and smile softly, your hand trailing up and settling on the side of his face. “you’re a good man, billy. even if god didn’t let you into heaven, i’d run down to hell for you. atleast i wouldn’t be cold there.” you smile wide and lean up to press your lips together.

he moves his hand to rest behind your head as he attempts to deepens the kiss while slowing the pace that your lips meet at. he reluctantly pulls back and takes a deep breath. his hand trailing down and drawing shapes on your hip. “you know, i could think of a few ways to warm you up real quick.” he smirks against your lips and narrows his eyes while looking into your wide ones. raising his eyebrows he rolls on top of you.

“i think that sounds like a wonderful idea, mr. bonney.” you wrap your arms around his neck and admire him. his messy hair, his tired eyes, and his dopey grin plastered across his face. yeah, you’d follow him to hell.

“hey billy i know it’s real early but-“ jesse saunters through the bedroom door and stops with wide eyes upon seeing the encounter. “i’ll…come back later.” he quickly averts his eyes down to avoid eye contact and firmly shuts the door.

billy’s head hangs low as you both hysterically laugh and he rolls off of you. “works calling, angel. are you warm or do i need to stay in bed with you all day?” he spoke softly as he fiddled with pieces of your hair and the lace from your nightgown.

“i’ll be okay, billy. you better get goin’ before jesse comes back in here” you smile as you kiss one last time and watch billy undress then dress again. shamelessly eyeing him until he leaves the room, not without one more kiss.

you’d fight the damn devil for that man.

#billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #billy the kid #william h bonney #william bonney #william bonney x reader #billy bonney x reader #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x reader

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writer-ace · 1 year

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I watched the asexual and aromantic communities get eaten away at by exclusionists and proto-TERFs and queer people making fun of microlabels and people who talked about how they just wanted all of us to stop dividing ourselves so much and people who decided that the concept of the Split Attraction Model was homophobic and people who flooded the ace and aro tags with porn and--

Well, you get the point.

But now a lot of people on this site don't know about ace culture and modern history, so here's some stuff you should know about:

The Asexuality Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) was started in 2001 by asexuality activist David Jay as a forum and educational space about asexuality.

A Carnival of Aces, which is a monthly blogging carnival on ace topics, has been taking place since May 2011 and has included such topics as coming out, non-traditional relationships styles and polyamory, asexual education (which I hosted), and labels and microlabels.

The Split Attraction Model is one model for talking about sexual and romantic orientation that splits out those two orientations, allowing individuals to describe sexual attraction/orientation as distinct from romantic orientation (e.g., aromantic bisexual, heteroromantic grey-asexual). While this model is primarily used by people on the ace and aro spectrums, it can be used by anyone who wants to discuss or describe sexual orientation as being separate from romantic orientation.

The AVEN triangle (or asexuality triangle) is a black and white or greyscale triangle that originated from taking the Kinsey scale and extending it down into another axis to address/acknowledge the range of attraction between what's on the Kinsey scale (allosexuality) and no sexual attraction (asexuality). It's generally presented as white at the horizontal line at the top and then black at the point at the bottom, often with a gradation of shades of grey down to the bottom.

Microlabels are specific (sometimes very narrow) labels for sexualities, romantic orientations, and genders. While these are not aro- or ace-specific, they were often associated with those communities because there was a culture of having nuanced conversations about narrow definitions, often by people couldn't find something that fit their experience in the standard L, G, B, or T lexicon. Demiromantic/demisexual, cupioromantic/cupiosexual, and quoiromantic/quoisexual are all examples of micro-labels.

The ace ring, a black ring worn on the middle finger of the right hand (generally) is a symbol of asexuality that some ace people wear. It originated on AVEN in 2005 when people were looking for a symbol that was rather covert.

Cake has also been an ace symbol, mostly from the idea that ace people agree that cake is better than sex. It used to be common to see a drawing of a cake with the ace flag colors.

The ace of (heart/spades/clubs/diamonds) has at times been used as a symbol for different ace spectrum/aro spectrum combinations. Ace of hearts is generally agreed on as alloromantic asexual and ace of spades as aromantic asexual (aroace or aro/ace). Ace of clubs is sometimes for grey-romantic asexual and ace of diamonds sometimes for demiromantic asexual, but those are less common.

Dragons were also associated with the ace community, at least on Tumblr. I'm less certain where this one came from (theories include that they're mythological creatures the way ace people are seen to be or that it's because there were headcanons that Charlie Weasley was ace).

#asexuality #queer history

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mrwavellswaps · 2 months

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Noticing The Difference

I never should’ve bought that fucking statue.

Two months ago I was, dare I say, an absolute hunk. I’d been working out for years on end. Always pushing my limits at every opportunity I could to grow better and stronger. I had a great diet which I made sure to always stick to and plenty of mates I could hit up the gym with. I was in the best shape of my life. Both looking and feeling bigger than ever with muscles that always managed to get me compliments from other dudes at the gym. Not to mention my genetics doing the absolute most by blessing me with a height of 6’1, a handsome face, a perfect hairline and an incredible beard. Looks that, needless to say, got me into bed with plenty of other hot dudes. Daddies, hunks, twinks. You name it. I’d been with them all.

I had everything going for me. I had a great job at my local gym. I’d been approached by multiple modelling agencies. I’d even amassed a fairly large following across my social media with my comment sections always full of thirsty people who ranged from leaving playful compliments to begging me for an onlyfans. Something I’d honestly begun to consider.

But then the statue happened. I found it at a small antique shop in town. I’m not even sure why I went in there. It was like something was drawing me in. Yet as soon as I was in the door I was greeted by an older man who wasted not time in offering his assistance. He whisked me around the shop, showing me everything he had to offer but I could tell he seemed particularly keen on selling me that one statue. I had no idea why at the time but in the end he won me over. It was fairly cheap and looked nice I supposed so before I knew it the shopkeeper was grinning as he took my money and handed me a receipt.

I found a spot for it at home on one of my bedroom shelves. But it was shortly after this that weird things began to happen. I found myself staring at it constantly. My eyes always drawn to the statue. I’d find myself thinking about it when I was at work. But things only started getting really weird when I began to get erections while looking at it. I had no idea why but my cock couldn’t help stiffening whenever my eyes met that of the statue. It very quickly got worse until soon enough I was standing in the middle of the room unable to break eye contact with the statue while jerking my fat dick. I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. It had some kind of hold over me. It wasn’t long then before I could feel my load rising up and getting ready to erupt until suddenly… I couldn’t move.

Everything around me spun and blurred in a dizzying fashion. When my vision cleared I was no longer staring at the statue, but rather I was staring at my own face! It didn’t make any sense! Somehow I was now looking at my muscular body from the outside as if I were a mere spectator. I had no idea what was going on but I couldn’t help feeling a wave of dread wash over me as my former face grinned maliciously at me. Seconds later however that grin twisted into a look of sheer pleasure as he drained my balls completely, groaning in my voice as he did.

“Fuuuuuuckk! It’s been too long since I’ve busted a nut!” He moaned while wiping some of my cum off his hand. Soon after he went on explain what just happened. Apparently the statue I’d bought was cursed. Every few years it starts to lure in a new victim. Making them want to take it home with them and soon become so entranced by it that they end up jerking off to it. In the process making their minds weak enough that the statue can steal their soul and trap them within itself. The side effect to this however is that the soul of the statue’s previous victim gets to take the newly vacant body in return. “Bro you have no idea how excited I was the second I saw you walking into the shop.”

I couldn’t believe it at first. I didn’t want to! But the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore as I watched this stranger begin to flex my muscles with a stupid smirk on what should’ve been my face. All while I was frozen in place. Unable to move or speak. Only capable of seeing and hearing. Completely powerless to stop this stranger from exploring the body he’d effectively stolen from me. And to make it even worse…

“Fuck. I’m gonna pull so many hot chicks with this body! Their pussies are gonna be dripping for this dick!”

He was straight.

Since then I’ve been unable to do anything but watch from a shelf in my bedroom as this guy took over my life completely. At first he really tried to act as much like me as possible. Shortly after taking my place, he looked through pretty much all my personal belongings much to my unheard protests. Learning every bit of information he could that he hadn’t already figured out in the time he’d been watching me from the statue. He must’ve scrolled through my phone for hours, looking through all my apps and messages. All the while playfully taunting me about it.

And after that he soon started going out. Dressing exactly as I would to meet with family and friends. And as soon as he got home he’d immediately come and tell me everything. Describing to me how hardly any of the people I knew even noticed a difference besides giving him an odd look here and there. It was both infuriating and terrifying at the same time. But I honestly couldn’t blame them. With my body’s muscle memory he already had most of my mannerisms down and could talk almost exactly like I did. And that’s how I thought things were going to stay. This imposter becoming my perfect replacement. That is until about a month in when something began to change…

He came into the bedroom one day and groaned as he threw off one of my now sweaty tank tops after what I can only assume was a jog home after a tough gym session to keep that body in shape. He finally allowed himself to catch his breath while placing his hands on those impressive hips I used to own. As he did his gaze shifted towards me; Initially with a glance before then turning to a smile which wouldn’t have seemed nearly as mocking if he didn’t follow it up with that annoying peace sign.

I rolled my metaphorical eyes at the gesture as he jumped on my bed and pulled out my laptop. Unfortunately I already knew what he was doing as he scrolled through some tabs he had saved while tugging down his shorts and unleashing that thick cock I used to own. I couldn’t help cringing like always as I watched him pull up a video and start jerking off to some girl bouncing her tits. He might’ve copied me in many ways but that definitely wasn’t one of them. It was always so unnerving to see my body and cock get horny over women. I usually just try my best to ignore it and hope he finishes quickly… but today wasn’t one of those days. It felt like hours before he finally tossed his head back and moaned with my voice as he spurted my load everywhere while a chick on the laptop was getting her pussy pounded.

“Ohhh gooddd!” He slurred his words coming off the high of orgasm. “I can’t take it anymore!” I had no idea what he meant at first but in hindsight if I’d known I would’ve wished for anything to stop him.

After cleaning himself up, that imposter trudged over towards me and looked me dead in the eyes. “Look man. I know I’ve been a bit of a dick to you this last month. Taking your body and what not. And I promise it wasn’t personal… not that I’m complaining.” A line he’d said to me many times by now as he flexed one of my biceps yet again. “I’ve tried to keep up this act of being you to be respectful I guess but I just can’t do it anymore bro! I wanna act like me!” I couldn’t help but find that last line somewhat ironic. “No offence dude but I'm not into half the stuff your friends and family expect me to be into and I'm not gay either. And I don’t wanna hide that anymore.” I could already feel my nightmare about this whole situation coming true at this point. “Sorry but I'm doing things my way now. I know you’re probably not gonna like it but I promise I’ll make it up to you bro. As soon as that statue you’re trapped in is ready to do its crazy magic shit again, I’ll make sure you get a sick new body. Maybe then we could hang out sometime as bros. No homo though.” He chuckled. And if that last joke wasn’t warning enough for what was to come, I didn’t know what was.

Immediately I could see the shift in his behaviour. Whenever he spoke he began to sound less like me and more like a douchey straight guy who can’t help saying ‘bro’ every other sentence. Things like the way he carried himself began to change and become more characteristic of the man who’d taken my identity. Next were the clothes as he quickly stopped wearing a lot of the tighter looking clothes I owned and pretty much threw out most of the clothes he considered to be ‘too gay’. Quickly replacing them with new clothes he’d bought which just made my former body look so painfully straight. But I guess that’s what he was aiming for.

But it didn’t stop there. I’d already figured out he was a football guy before now with how I could always hear him shouting and cheering at the TV whenever there was a match on. So it wasn’t long before he’d bought a bunch of football related shit as well to put up around my place. After which he told me all about how my friends thought it was so weird that he was so into football now. I wasn’t surprised considering I’d always said before how much the sport bored me.

Now he’d turned my former self into one of the straightest looking and acting guys on the planet. And this couldn’t have been more apparent as I heard him come home with what sounded like two other dudes he’d made friends with at the gym. Straight gym bros I assumed who I’d probably never spoken to before. I could hear them all getting settled on the couch with beers as they hung out. Doing weird shit like chugging their beer and seeing who could belch the loudest. Eugh. I tried to ignore it but my ears couldn’t help perking up when they started having a conversation about my former self’s sexuality…

“Yeah I dunno guys. I used to think I was gay but recently I’ve been thinking of experimenting you know? I’ve always been curious as to what fucking pussy feels like.” I heard him say. Fuck. Up until now he hadn’t actually had sex with a woman since taking my body despite how much he talked about wanting to do it. I figured at least a part of him still felt bad for stealing my body and he probably figured I’d hate it. So when I heard one of his new bros offering to call up a lady friend of his who apparently had a crush on my imposter. I’d have screamed for him not to take the offer if I could. But there was nothing I could do.

“Call her bro.”

Before I know it I have to bear witness as my own body stumbles into the bedroom with a busty chick wrapped around his waist. As they kissed their way over towards the bed, he looked up at me with a what seemed to be a somewhat guilty look. However that look was quickly wiped away as the chick grabbed his bulge, coaxing a satisfactory grunt out from my former voice. Now I found myself cringing a hundred times harder than I ever did before as she started going on about how she knew I wasn’t really gay and that I just needed the right woman.

What came after seemed like torture to me. Having to watch as my imposter got his dick sucked by a woman I didn’t know. Staring on helplessly as he reached down and grabbed at her tits, causing my old dick to buck with excitement as he squeezed them. And even worse so as he moved on to sliding my cock between her tits and fucking them! It felt so wrong to watch but I couldn’t look away as he eventually stopping fucking her tits only to start eating out her pussy instead! God… seeing my own face between a woman’s legs just looked wrong. And yet he was having the time of his life.

But eventually my worst fear came true as I watched him line my cock up with the entrance to her pussy. I could swear he looked up at me again just for a second to mouth the words ‘sorry bro’ before suddenly plunging inside her. And once he did he was like an animal. A beast even! Slamming my formerly gay cock as deep into her pussy as it would go, causing them both to wail out in pleasure. After that he must’ve pounded her for what seemed like hours to me. Stuffing that big titted bimbo full with my dick as the only sound that could be heard over all the moaning was my balls slapping against her taint. Torture didn’t even sound like a strong enough word at this point.

They switched positions a couple of times before they finally reached the climax. Across which time the chick complimented my former cock multiple times on how perfect it was for her pussy and how it made her cum faster than any other guy could. But eventually my imposter reached his limit. There were a few uneven thrusts before finally he let out a long loud groan just as I always did when I came. Immediately his cock began to spasm as it filled the pussy below him with an enormous load, much to this chick’s desire by the look of it. And he wasn’t even wearing a fucking condom…

A few minutes later I had the displeasure of watching him slowly dislodge from her pussy with a dumb grin. He wiped off his sticky cock and pulled on a pair of baggy shorts as the chick continued to bask in the afterglow of it all. I watched as he headed towards the door where his new bros were waiting for him on the other side.

“How was it man? You still think you’re gay?” One of them asked.

That body snatcher of mine grinned. “Nope. I’m as straight as an arrow bros. Tits and pussy only from now on.” He claimed, having to make it all sound somewhat believable before the other two men wrapped their arms around him in a celebratory manner before grabbing him another beer.

I can already tell these are gonna be a looooong few years before he’s finally able to keep that promise and put me in a new body. At this rate by the time I get out of this curse statue, he’ll have knocked up enough bimbo’s to have his own soccer team. Hopefully he’ll start using a condom before then…

#male body theft #male body swap #magic #curse #gay to straight #identity theft #jock #male hypno #permanent #male possession #muscle theft #male muscle growth

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floralpascal · 1 year

Text

Lines Crossed

Summary: Ghost realizes that he needs you more than he thought and makes a risky trip to your room while trying not to get caught.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship, Ghost realizing that he's absolutely whipped

A/N: The idea of Ghost being whipped just took over my mind and this is what came out. This was so much fun to write that I'm thinking about making this a mini series looking at various points in their relationship

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

There were lines Ghost didn’t cross.

He didn’t get involved. He didn’t let himself care. And he sure as hell didn’t let himself need someone.

For you, though, he seemed to be willing to cross every single line imaginable whether he liked it or not. He had gotten involved, telling himself then that it was just a one-time thing. He would get his fill of you for a night and he would be done, finally able to get you off of his mind. But that hadn’t been how it had gone down. Having you once only let the hold you had on him dig in deeper, settling in his bones until he found himself in your bed again. And again.

With each secret night spent in your room or his, a shitty hotel or a secluded backroom, whatever this was with you pulled him deeper into the unknown. His thoughts drifted to you even when you weren’t in the room. He found himself being more protective of you in the field. He began to check in on you enough that Soap had finally said, “Styx will be fine, Ghost. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.” Soon, he had to finally admit that he had crossed the second line. He cared.

The third line…

Ghost groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. Staring into the darkness of his room for hours with sleep evading his grasp, he was starting to grow both restless and frustrated. Having trained himself to fall asleep under any conditions in order to scrape together any amount of sleep he could while in the field, his newfound difficulties falling asleep were an unwelcome surprise. It had plagued him for the last month, making him markedly more irritable - enough to draw the entire team’s attention. He had blown off Price when he had carefully broached the subject, asserting that there was nothing wrong at all. Lie.

It was your bloody fault. It was your face that kept him up at night in one way or another. It was the way you looked when your head was tipped back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked you. It was the way you looked out in the field, your strong shoulders square and hard eyes trained forward as you held your gun and swept a building. It was your pained grimace as Ghost tried to stop the bleeding from the bullet you had taken to the stomach a year ago.

His head filled with a mix of scenes of bliss and scenes of horror, both of which you were the star of. Either way, it kept his brain whirring enough to ward away sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, fast and screaming and disorienting with the thought of you.

You were barely fifty meters away from him right now, your own room merely on the other side of the corridor. He couldn’t believe he was imagining walking down to your room now, in the middle of the night with everyone else in their own rooms right down the hall. It was dumb and reckless and-

And the thought alone made him feel better.

The thought of your skin on his, your hands buried in his hair, and your mouth on his was like a forbidden salve to his irritation. Having you under him, so vibrant and alive, chased away all the scenes of you in danger that his mind seemed to love to conjure up these days.

Irrational thoughts plagued him now, too. What if something was wrong with you? What if you were hurt? Forget the fact that they were on a secure base or that he had seen you only hours earlier, it didn’t matter to Ghost’s brain in the dark like this. Though he logically knew that his thoughts were irrational figments of his overactive mind, his body didn’t seem to be getting the memo.

It was like he wasn’t convinced you were safe until he saw you himself. Until he felt the plush of your skin under his fingers.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, practically dumbfounded by his own decision, as he forcefully flung the covers from his body. He grabbed the balaclava from his nightstand, slipping the soft cloth over his face before throwing a random shirt over his bare torso.

The corridor was empty at this time of night, but Ghost stayed vigilant anyways. He crept toward your door, eyes on the other gray doors that housed the rest of the 141. He had never been this bold, this reckless, as to try to slip into your room when everyone was asleep in their own rooms right beside yours, usually limiting your nights together to when the other guys went out to a pub or split up to go on leave. If anyone caught him - your superior - slipping into your room in the middle of the night, there would surely be hell to pay. Yet, he couldn’t stop.

With one last look at the empty, monochrome hallway, he found the handle to your door and slipped soundlessly into your room.

Despite the fact that he had been quiet, you seemed to sense the intrusion. Your eyes snapping open, you pushed your top half up from the pillow, your body tense like you were ready for a fight. You leaned forward and flicked on the bedside lamp.

Your eyes landed on Ghost and he watched as you relaxed again, your sleep-heavy eyes softening as they held his gaze.

“Ghost…” you whispered, clearly as astounded by his presence in your room as he was.

Everything in him screamed that this was a bad idea. That he should go back to his room before he made any more bad decisions. But then you smiled at him, easy and warm and inviting. No bad decision could look like that.

“You okay?” You asked, voice light and laced with sleep. It was concern, though, that sat behind your words. Concern for him, genuine and raw.

Ghost felt something in him crack at that question. Something he knew he wouldn’t come back from.

With two quick strides across your room, he crossed that third line.

In the pale yellow light of the lamp, he pulled the balaclava from his head, letting the cloth fall to the floor. He was already climbing above you in the bed as your eyes snapped wide and you scanned his face for the first time, taking in his features above you. Him. You finally saw him.

Ghost’s breathing picked up as you lifted a hand to his cheek and ran a thumb over his cheek. He had wondered what you would look like if you ever saw him without the mask. Somehow, he had never never expected that you would look at him so tenderly. It seemed wrong that anyone could look at someone as cold and hardened as Ghost like this. But, fuck, it was doing things to him.

When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he slammed his lips into yours. You returned the kiss with a fire that made everything worth it. The blood. The explosions. The secrecy. The sleepless nights.

“Am now,” he mumbled against your lips. He couldn’t say anything else, he could only let the fire he had for you take over and burn everything left in him.

You melted into his affections, immediately grabbing onto his shoulders as he stripped your mouth bare. The little sounds you made spurred him on, making him feel better than he had the entire night. Forget sleep, he could live solely fueled by this.

Then, your hands slid up into his hair, tugging at the mask-flattened strands. A groan fell from Ghost’s lips as he started to fumble for the hem of your shirt, needing you freed from it immediately. He needed to feel you against him, as close as you possibly could be. Needed you wrapped around him in every possible way.

Need. Need. Need. It was a terrifying, unstoppable feeling.

As you both discarded your clothes, your hands desperately searching for skin, Ghost couldn’t help but think of how apt your nickname was. Styx. A mythological river, threatening to pull him under, the waters that he was drowning in also making him damn near invulnerable to all else in the world, save for his one spot of vulnerability. You.

The Styx was believed to be at the edge of the earth and the underworld, you had told him once. Being with you felt kind of like that, he supposed. Like he was at the edge of reality and the mythological. Something he never thought he would have compared to the reality of you underneath him.

Your lips wiped the fucked up worries from his mind, your hands grounding him in the raging current.

You let out a moan as Ghost slipped two fingers into you, trying to get you ready for him as quickly as possible tonight. He clamped a large hand over your mouth as he started to pump his fingers in and out.

“Keep quiet, love,” he purred into your ear, knowing exactly what his low, gravelly voice did to you. Your fingers came to clamp down on his shoulder in your desperation. “We don’t want any interruptions.”

You nodded, your eyes locking with his for a moment before they fluttered closed. He watched you like this, lost in bliss, and tried to commit the image to memory. He would store it away for another cold, lonely night when he couldn’t be here with you, when sleep evaded him.

He so desperately wanted to hear you - to hear the way he could make you scream out his name - but he knew it wasn’t possible right now. Your muffled groans and the way you tipped your head back as he curled his fingers into you would have to suffice.

“So wet for me, love,” he whispered into your ear as he increased his pace, feeling how close you were to the edge as your velvety walls fluttered around him. “Were you thinking about me?”

You jerked your head in a nod, his hand stifling another choked moan from your lips. The sincerity in your movement sent his ego soaring in a way he had never experienced before. Fucking hell, he had never experienced anything like this before. You had a frightening power over him, a grip on his very being that was so deep he didn’t think he could detach it and still survive.

It was terrifying and thrilling and oh-so wonderful.

You shattered under his touch, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you rode out the waves of pleasure he was bringing you. Your hand grasped at his forearm, searching for anything that could steady you.

When you came down and released him from your grip, your eyes fluttered back open. Through your haze, your eyes found his, a want deeper than just lust pouring from your expression. He couldn’t take it anymore. He fucking needed you.

Ghost tore his hand away from your mouth before he crashed his lips to yours again, all heat and fervor. You met him halfway, pushing up to run a hand through his hair. You had done this before in the dark, but it felt even more intense now that you knew what it looked like. What he looked like. You weren’t kissing a faceless man, you were kissing him.

“Simon…” you whined against his lips. “Please.”

Years ago, when you had first met, he wouldn’t have believed that he would ever hear you like this. Usually when you talked, your voice was strong. Unwavering. Fit for a battlefield. To hear you beg for him like this, your words strained, broken, and laced with desire, was something reverent.

He buried his cock in you in one smooth stroke, his lips still on yours. It was still a stretch to fit him, but it was always a stretch. From the very beginning his pace was brutal, his hips slamming into yours over and over. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise so he could hold you in place while he hit the spot deep inside you that always had you breaking for him. He knew he had found it when your legs boxed his hips in and your hips jerked up to meet his thrusts. Your heels rested on his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper into you.

You were squeezing him so tight as he pounded into your sweet cunt that for the first time all night, his head was clear. All that existed was you and the growing heat in his stomach.

Ghost dropped his head down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft, delicate flesh at the base of it as one of his hands released its hold on your hip to find your clit. He knew exactly what to do to send you over the edge again, exactly how hard to press, how tight of circles to draw.

“F-fuck, Simon, I’m g-gonna-” you stuttered out, unable to finish your own sentence. But he knew. He could feel how close you were, the tension drawn tight that was about to snap.

His own rhythm was growing sloppy, the pleasure about to take him under. With a few more calculated thrusts, you came once again, your whole body spasming around him. Your hands clawed at his back as your pussy squeezed him so hard it took him with you. A zap of electricity raced down his spine as he released into you, hot and thick. He fucked it into you, so deep he was sure you would still feel him at breakfast tomorrow morning.

He was so fucked. He had crossed every line and now there was no turning back. There was no stopping this anymore. He needed you. Maybe it was wrong to hope that you needed him just as much, but he did.

Ghost panted against your collar, letting the soft, methodical way you drew circles on his scalp pull him back to reality. Back to you.

He pulled out and rolled over onto the bed, pulling you with him. After taking a few minutes to clean you up, he pulled you to lay on top of him. With his arms around you and the feel of your steady breathing against his chest, sleep finally found him and pulled him under.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #my writing

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torhues · 1 year

Text

osamu miya.

"what do you think is the right way to ask someone out?" osamu's sudden question draws out your attention from your english assignment.

you take a moment to think, and while he thinks you're sorting out the most appropriate answers to his question, you're lost looking the answer to just one question that's plaguing your mind : should you tell him, or not?

"uh, who is it for?" you settle with the conclusion that he's asking that question out of curiosity. after all, you both are at an age where romance gradually becomes an integral parts of almost everyone's life.

out of all the years that you've known osamu— which is for around seven years for now— there has been only one time when you've seen him pursuing someone, and that was your best friend in middle school; and like the good friend you were, you helped the two of them confess to each other. you would walk to school and back, watching them holding hands, make plans without you because they were dating and it was understandable. you didn't mind, not at all, for you weren't in love with him at that point.

looking back now, you wonder if things would've turned out different if you hadn't helped your friend, or if you had realised your feelings a bit earlier. back then, you found it amusing to watch two people in love act like idiots, not knowing it'd all come back to you with a much larger impact.

"someone i like," he replies in his classic monotonous voice, as if he couldn't care less about not telling you who he has a crush on. it's exactly how it was back in middle school. had it not been for your friend, you wouldn't have known she was the one osamu had been planning to ask out all along. "goes to the same university as us, might even be in your biochem class,"

and your mind traces over the image of every single person in your class, crossing out the names that don't seem to fit osamu's taste in romantic partners. it's not the first time you're doing this. in fact, you've gotten used to figuring out whether he would be interested in someone just by looking at them. it's something you've learnt as you got better at hiding your feelings.

you've known him long enough to know who he might date yet still, couldn't bring yourself to believe that you could possibly have a chance with him.

"well, i can't tell you if i don't know the person," something about you makes osamu believe that you're a cupid. you're good at reading people, welcoming, albeit not so good at reaching out to strangers, but you are likeable, more than likeable, actually.

he has seen you set people up, including himself, and excluding yourself. the reason why you're not interested in pursuing someone anymore is beyond his comprehension. you have your fair share of knowledge about relationships, have dated a couple of guys before giving up altogether. it's not like your relationships didn't work, but it always seemed as if you were better off without them.

even while dating, it looks like your eyes are looking for someone else while being in someone's arms.

he sighs, putting down his phone. "just tell me what you like, people aren't much different after all,"

"uh, well, i hate public confessions and people who confess through calls and texts," which stands true for most the people out there. public confessions are more of a show off and confessing through texts is just, not enough. "also, i like to stay at home or be at some cafe so like, arcades, amusement parks and places like those aren't up to my liking either,"

you notice the smile on his face, along with the dreamy eyes and make him look prettier than he already is. frankly, the idea of osamu doing everything you like to ask someone else out hurts more than it should. you're probably not the only persons with those likes and dislikes. you know you should be happy for him and the person he likes because in the end, osamu is everything you, or anyone, could ask for.

"what about flowers? lilacs?" he asks, getting back to his phone.

"what are you doing, congratulating someone on their graduation?" his lips instantly curve into a frown, and you know in his head, he's snickering about how he is not the best when it comes to picking flowers, and that you shouldn't make fun of him for this. "i'd say tulips, they're a better gifts for first dates and confessions,"

one day, back in first year of university, osamu asked you why you don't seek relationships anymore. thinking about it now, you never gave him an absolute answer.

on some days, the answer would be academics, other days, it would be sadness looming over your shoulders after watching your ex with someone else. sometimes, you would excuse it by saying it's a waste of time and when asked when you're drunk, you'd say it's because you already have someone in mind, someone who can't be yours, no matter how much you try.

on some days, you wonder if osamu ever thinks about all the answers, or excuses, you gave to his question. there are times when the worlds makes compels you to believe that osamu likes you back, but then you realise that if he did, he wouldn't have asked out others all this time. you did drop hints regarding your feelings for him, and he failed to catch on for he for too busy looking at everyone except you.

"i wonder why you don't date anymore," the question arises again, flooding all the memories back into your head.

"i did have someone i liked, but he likes someone else," and you realise you can't lie to him anymore. "so, i gave up," osamu finds it amusing how you say those words with a smile, and he finds it despairing knowing that now, you've simply learnt to live with pain while pretending to be okay.

he shoots you a comforting smile, "i hope that wouldn't be the case for me,"

"me too," and you smile back.

he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket while offering soft apologies for the state your bed is in because of him. sometimes, you feel like there should be a warning for everyone who dates him : caution, this man doesn't know how to keep the bed clean. there are nights when you go to sleep thinking about how you're probably the only one who can keep up with this habit of his, and then wake up realising that it wasn't a problem to anyone it now so, it wouldn't be in future either.

it's like oscillating between the possibility and impossibility of him and you, caressing your little heart with false hope.

"ah, what should i say while confessing?" he shoots another question, making you snicker in annoyance.

"c'mon 'samu, you're not asking someone out for the first time,"

"just tell me,"

and you allow yourself to get lost in thoughts again. for a brief second, you consider telling him to not confess. the reason? your feelings, but again, you and him aren't meant to be together in the first place. it's just like how the saying goes— cupids must not fall in love— and you did the forbidden, knowing it would hurt you ten folds more every time you tie his threads with someone that's not you.

"i don't know, just give the flowers and ask if they'd like to go out with you or something," he chimes a faint thank you before leaving your room, and then your apartment. this time, you don't walk up to the door to see him off, neither do you wish him good luck, and surprisingly, osamu doesn't seem to notice your minute absence either.

it's fine, you tell yourself, one of you has to start getting accustomed to the other's absence. while the process has already begun for you, you hope osamu gets used to it as well. you need him to stop reaching you out for relationship advices because you don't know how long you can compose yourself before shattering once again. you try to distract yourself with essays due next month or even further, reading chapters that haven't been taught in class, reading research papers; just anything that can keep your mind off osamu.

you don't want to think about him, or what he's doing. maybe, he's buying the flowers, making preparations or calling his crush and asking them to meet him at their favourite place. even better if his crush confessed while he has been preparing a proposal of his own, it would be cinematic. you don't want to think about him at all, but the more you try, the deeper he engraves inside your mind.

the evening rolls by with you still sitting at your study desk with a bunch of papers lying around a not one complete work. there are rain splatters on your windows and you hope the off-season showers haven't ruined his confession. you can't wish for the other person to like him back, so you just wish for his happiness; whatever makes him happy, even if it means pushing him away.

and when you manage to drag yourself to the kitchen to grab something to eat and make yourself feel better, the sound of your doorbell hits your ears. the rain hits harder, you muster up the energy to walk up to the door.

there's osamu standing with a love sick smile and slightly wet hair, along with rain splatters on his shirt, and the bouquet of tulips in his hand. "will you go out with me?"

#♡ hues'.#♡ handmade.#this is not angst trust me #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #osamu fluff #osamu headcanons #osamu drabbles #osamu fic #osamu angst #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu

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dreamwritesimagines · 6 months

Text

Garden of Secrets - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support throughout the story my darlings! I hope you enjoy the epilogue as well, ILYSM! ❤️

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Thank you to @theskytraveler for helping me with the story and the chapter!

Series Masterlist

3 YEARS LATER

“And this flower right here is called a mock orange, any idea why?”

The cheerful babbling was the only answer you got and you felt yourself smiling wide, turning to look at her better. Camellia was the cutest baby you’d ever seen and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just because she was the most perfect combination of you and Benedict. The only person in your life that remembered you as a baby was Josie, and she swore up and down that she looked more like you than Benedict but you weren’t so sure.

“Very good!” you said. “Because it looks like an orange flower!”

Camellia clapped her hands excitedly, as if congratulating herself for guessing right, kicking her legs back and forth in her high chair, accidentally dropping one of the many pencils on the table in front of her but she didn’t even notice.

“And what about this one?”

“Fwo?”

“Flower, yes,” you said, nodding fervently and she gave you a huge grin. You went to pick her up from the chair and approached the table in the middle of the huge greenhouse.

“This is your flower my sweet, see? Middlemist Red Camellia.”

She gasped when she heard her name. “Me!”

“Mm hm, the most beautiful and precious flower in the entire world!” you said, tickling her stomach while kissing her cheeks, making her happy giggles echo in the greenhouse. You fixed her hair, still smiling bright and took a look at the paper she was drawing on before, full of different colored squiggly lines.

“Perhaps your papa is right, you are to be a big artist,” you said as you walked to the glass door. “A painter like him hm?”

“Papa!”

“And your aunt Lottie says you will be a writer and your uncle Teddy says you’ll be a sculptor…” you said as you stepped out of the greenhouse into the huge garden, the sunlight falling upon you. You grabbed the little hat by the door and placed it upon Camellia’s head while she held onto you, playing with your necklace.

“So many ideas!” you told her as you passed by the winter garden, enjoying the chirping of the birds. A couple of butterflies flew by you, no doubt because you were very close to the butterfly garden and Camellia held her breath, pointing at the blue butterfly.

“Mama!”

“I can see that my love,” you said, pressing a kiss on her small chubby hand, and walked past the orangery. “They’re very beautiful, are they not?”

She nodded fervently, making grabby hand motions as if trying to call the butterflies to her.

“Anyway, as I was saying,�� you said, still walking through the main garden. “They all think like that but do you want to know what I think?”

She nodded her head again, still listening to you very intently.

“I think you might just become the biggest botanist in the world,” you whispered. “I mean it only makes sense, no? You already know so many flowers!”

Camellia pointed at the pear tree and turned to you. “Mine? Mine?”

“Let’s get you one then,” you said with a small laugh, reaching up to grab and pick the pear off the branch. You dusted it off, then gave it to Camellia who made a happy cooing sound, trying to dig into it. You raised your head to look up at the house, a warmth spreading through you as your gaze fell upon the window of Benedict’s studio, then you turned to Camellia.

“Let’s go see papa, hm?” you asked her, then made your way to the house to enter the foyer. You hummed a song and climbed up the stairs, then put Camellia down when you entered the hallway leading to Benedict’s studio.

“Go ahead.”

“Papa?” Camellia called out, running as fast as her tiny legs allowed her, reminding you of a duck. She was still holding the pear tight in her fist, and you walked right behind her to make sure you would be able to catch her if she fell. “Papa!”

You let out a laugh as you heard Benedict’s footsteps and he stepped out of the studio, his jaw dropping as he saw her and he immediately leaned down to catch her before she could smash herself against his legs.

“Oh here’s my sweet!” he said as he hoisted her up into his arms, smothering her in kisses, making her giggle happily before he turned to you, that fond look crossing his eyes, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Hello my love.”

You smiled, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Hello to you too,” you said, letting out a small laugh as he stole another kiss from you. “I figured you needed a break or so.”

“And you were right,” he said, winking at you before turning to Camellia. “How is she always right, do you know?”

Camellia offered him the pear she was holding and Benedict gasped.

“For me?”

“More like it was for her but she’s willing to share,” you said and Benedict grinned.

“Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the studio and walked inside with Camellia in his arms, and you followed them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you sang in a teasing manner, pulling the hat off Camellia’s head and Benedict shot you a mischievous look.

“Mm, what am I doing?”

“You think you can turn her into an artist if she spends enough time here.”

“I can’t help if she’s naturally talented,” Benedict defended himself. “I mean have you seen her work?”

“The…the squiggly lines?”

“The squiggly lines!” Benedict nodded, rocking Camellia. “She’s a genius artist even as a one-year-old.”

“I still support my botanist theory.”

“Maybe she’ll be both?”

“As you can see my sweet, no high expectations whatsoever,” you told Camellia who was listening to both of you as if she could understand everything you were saying.

“You can be anything you want to be,” Benedict told her as she rested her head on his shoulder, yawning. “Including an artist. Just saying.”

You walked closer to the canvas to see that the background was almost done, and tilted your head.

“What’s this going to be?”

Benedict shot you a grin and pressed his lips on top of Camellia’s hair. You checked the clock on the wall, then rang the bell.

“That one is going to be her,” Benedict said, softly rocking her and you smiled.

“Aw,” you said gently, and walked to caress her soft cheek with your finger. “Did you hear that my sweet? Your own portrait?”

Camellia sucked on her thumb, her eyes closing slowly.

“Is she sleeping?” Benedict whispered and you nodded.

“She is,” you murmured, rubbing her back and turned your head when someone knocked on the door.

“Ma’am,” Paula said. “Mr. Bridgerton. Would you like me to take her for her nap?”

“That would be good Paula, thank you.”

She smiled and took Camellia from Benedict, careful not to wake her.

“I’ll be right there,” you told her and pressed a kiss on Camellia’s head before Paula walked out of the room with her. You turned to Benedict and he entwined his fingers with yours, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey,” you said as he buried his nose into your hair. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm hm, now that you’re here.”

You smiled softly and squeezed his arm. “Are you still tense about the gala?”

He heaved a sigh and you pulled back a little to look up at him.

“Ben, that painting got auctioned and sold in two minutes because everyone was outbidding each other,” you reminded him. “People are talking about you the same way you used to talk about Gordon, everyone agrees that you’re a genius artist, the whole ton—”

“Yeah but it’s different,” he mumbled. “Tonight, it’s only friends and family.”

“Shouldn’t that be comforting?”

“Technically yes but…” he trailed off and shook his head slightly. “Never mind.”

You cupped his cheek, raising your brows. “Tell me.”

“It’s easier when it’s just strangers,” he said with a small chuckle. “Museum owners and Academy directors and such. It’s different when it’s family and friends, and I’d hate it if they thought all those other people exaggerated—”

“Everyone in the Academy and countless artists and museum owners who were on the verge of a fight to get your painting, they all exaggerated?” you asked with a small smile. “All of those people at the same time?”

Benedict thought for a moment. “When you say it like that…”

You let out a laugh and stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, and he heaved a sigh when you pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tonight is going to be amazing,” you assured him. “I promise you.”

He shot you a mischievous grin, then leaned down hoisted you up into his arms, making you squeal.

“Benedict!”

“There’s no harm in starting the amazing night a bit early,” he said as he carried you to the sofa and you let out a laugh.

“Scandalous behavior!” you joked and he winked at you, then leaned in to kiss you.

Of course the night of the gala went perfectly, as you knew it would. Both your family and Benedict’s had been so excited and were very proud of him, and you could see it melted away the last insecurity that had been gnawing at him before tonight.

His speech that he dedicated the painting -and his inspiration- to you was enough to bring tears into your eyes but you managed to hide it by burying your face into his arm, earning an “aww” from the crowd. After the speech, people scattered along in the gallery to talk to each other, and if you said so yourself, everyone seemed to be having fun. Benedict was talking to Gordon, Henry, Margery and Lucy by the corner, Anthony and Lottie looked like they were in their own world while Colin kept whispering things to Penelope’s ear, making her giggle. Eloise seemed to be in a deep conversation with Simon while Daphne watched them with a small smile, and you smiled at Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury as Teddy wheezed past you.

“Teddy don’t run!” you called out and he stopped for a moment.

“But I’m being very careful!” he assured you and returned to chasing Hyacinth and Gregory. Your aunt held up her hands, gesturing surrender as she gave him a fond look and your uncle chuckled.

“If he changes his mind about being a sculptor…”

“He can become a professional runner,” you joked and turned to Josie and Bess.

“So yes, we’re going to Paris before the season,” you told them. “Around like a month before, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Andrew will give you a list of things to bring from there, just so you know,” Bess said said and you let out a laugh.

“I’m alright with that. Wait, where is he anyway?”

Josie cleared her throat. “I think he and Felix are in the orangery—”

“The moon garden, my love,” Bess corrected her and you raised your brows, stifling a laugh.

“Of course they are,” you muttered and heard someone calling your name. You turned your head to see who it was, then made your way to Lottie and Anthony.

“Hello you two.”

“Y/N,” she said with a huge smile, still holding Anthony’s hand. “We already said goodnight to Benedict, we didn’t want to leave before saying goodnight to you.”

You tilted your head. “You’re leaving already?” you asked. “Is everything alright? Is Edmund—”

“Oh Edmund is fine!” she assured you quickly and Anthony nodded.

“He’s probably asleep already.”

“It’s just—I tire very easily nowadays,” Lottie said, making you pull your brows together. Anthony and Lottie exchanged smiles and Lottie bounced on the balls of her feet in an excited manner, making your frown deepen for a moment before the thought dawned on you and your jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?!” you whispered and Lottie giggled, nodding fervently.

“You’re the first to know,” she whispered and you let out a laugh, then pulled her into a hug.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“To both of you obviously—” you said with a laugh, then hugged Anthony as well, making him chuckle as he hugged you back.

“We haven’t told Benedict yet,” he told you as you pulled back. “You know with the gala and everything.”

“Oh he will be very happy for you!” you said and Lottie bit on her lip.

“I wish to be the one to tell him if that’s alright.”

“Absolutely!” you said, waving your hands. “Go on then, go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better,” Lottie joked and squeezed your hand, then they both walked out of the gallery. You looked around, then took a step towards Eloise but someone touched the small of your back, making you look up.

“Well if it isn’t the genius artist,” you teased Benedict and he shot you a happy grin.

“Come with me?”

“As long as we’re not going to the moon garden because if I walk in on them again…” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said and let him pull you out of the gallery. You both passed through the foyer and he led you outside, still holding your hand.

“Ben, where are we going?” you asked with a laugh and he stopped by the main garden, moonlight falling upon you both, showering the gardens in silver. Even though it was the thousandth time you were seeing this gorgeous view, it still managed to take your breath away.

Speaking of things that managed to take your breath away…

You looked up at Benedict, his handsome face under the moonlight, your heart skipping a beat before you giggled.

“Are we sneaking out of your own gala then?”

Benedict shot you a mischievous smile, then shook his head.

“No I merely…I wanted a moment with you,” he said. “Just you.”

You bit down on your lip as he pulled you closer, his fingers stroking over your hair. Your eyes fluttered close when he brushed his lips against yours and you smiled into the kiss, grazing your nails over the nape of his neck, making him heave a sigh.

“Congratulations Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered. “Your gala seems to be a success.”

He smiled softly, pressing his lips on your temple. “Seems to be, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You hummed. “Is it too early to say I told you so?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Well then, I told you so,” you said, sticking your nose up in the air. “And you should listen to me all the time because to be honest, so far I’ve—”

“I love you,” he said, and your eyes snapped up to his, a smile warming your face. You let out a giggle and pulled him down so that you could kiss him.

“I love you too,” you whispered and entwined your fingers with his, then took a step towards the house.

“Come on,” you said. “It is your gala my love. Let’s go and enjoy it.”

The End.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

655 notes · View notes

chrisevansonly · 6 months

Text

𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄

☁︎ charles leclerc x female reader

☁︎ there is nothing better than carving pumpkins with your husband and your little girl

☁︎ no warnings just very sweet dad! charles content ahead<3

☁︎ i’m really excited for this, i love dad!charles so much you guys have no idea..i love this fall celebration fic idea idk why i didn’t do it before…

Across the table lay a sheet of fabric to protect the delicate cherrywood underneath from the pumpkin seeds and goop that was about to take up the space. You and Charles had taken your daughter Alia out to get some pumpkins to carve for Halloween. Of course, you had to take a little road trip to find only the best according to your husband, Alia had the time of her life that day.

“Maman is it almost ready!” your little girl shouted from the top of the stairs

“Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur”

Charles voice could be heard from the kitchen as little footsteps descended down the stairs, a shy smile on her face

“Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur…”

You smiled turning to see your daughter coming over to you, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to her head

“Oui c’est ça mon ange”

“To answer your question princess it’s ready now, do you want to pick your pumpkin?”

Alia’s face lit up as she nodded, carefully studying the three big pumpkins in front of her

“The middle please! So I can be between papa and you maman!”

It never failed to make your heart soar at just how much Alia loved both you and Charles, she constantly wanted to do things with the two of you.

“The middle one is yours then my love, Papa can help you clean out your pumpkin too if you’d like”

The little girl nodded, getting up onto her stool so she stood higher so she could reach everything she needed. Charles carved the top off of her pumpkin with a knife, knowing it was too sharp for her to grab

“So do you have your spoon bébé?”

“Oui papa! Can I start?!”

He laughed

“Yes, go ahead”

The three of you began to scoop out your pumpkins, Alia obviously asking for her dad’s or your help when her arms got tired, which seemed to be more often than not. Once they’d been cleaned out, you helped her trace the face she wanted to carve, her eyes watching you carefully, in awe of the soon to be carved pumpkin.

“Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?”

“C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour”

She furrowed her brows looking up at her

“Mais pourquoi?”

A smile tugged at your lips at your daughter’s curiosity, she always wanted to know the what, the why and the how, Charles says she takes on after you.

“Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?”

“Maman?”

Alia turned to look at you, a soft smile on her face

“Yes baby?”

“Why is it called a jack-o-lantern…?”

You pressed a kiss to her cheeks before thinking for a moment

“I think because it reminds people of a lantern…you know when Papa lights a candle sometimes and the light flickers?”

She nods

“Well I think it reminds people of that..”

“Oh okay maman!”

Alia was quiet for the next while as Charles helped her carve out the shapes she’d asked you to draw in the pumpkin. His was already complete as was yours, both of you going with a traditional triangle eyes and smiley shaped mouth. Honestly you’d argue this was some of your best work to date.

While Alia was busy admiring the now finished pumpkin she had Charles came over pressing a kiss to your cheek

“We’re pretty good no?”

You leaned into his touch

“I think so, some of our best I’d say” you replied to which your husband was quick to agree too.

“Do you think she’s going to ask us to get more..?”

In hindsight maybe you should have picked up more than three pumpkins, this activity seemed to enrapture your little girl, and knowing her, she’d want to keep carving as much as she could.

“Well I might have picked up some extra…they’re out in the backyard”

You tilted your head enough to look at him, a gentle smile on his face

“You think of everything don’t you baby?”

“I just always think of my girls…knew Alia might want to make another one”

Leaning up to kiss him you sighed happily

“Worlds best husband and dad award goes to you, as always Char”

Before Charles could answer you Alia let out a few giggles

“Look at Papa’s pumpkin! It’s so funny!”

Charles feigned hurt

“Hey, it doesn’t look funny!”

“Yes Papa! It looks so funny!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly along with your daughter as she poked at her father’s pumpkin. When stopped laughing she looked between the two of you, her eyes filled with joy

“Peut-on les allumer maintenant?”

This time you nodded, fixing her hair a little bit

“Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes.”

As she took off towards the front door, you and Charles brought the pumpkins over, happy to get some time to spend all together as a family, especially with Charles being away at races or having other obligations with his sponsors. You had each other, and of course your little pumpkin herself, who now would want to carve as many pumpkins as her arms could handle.

Who were you and Charles to stop her, even if you two ended up being the ones who did most of the work.

translations:

Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur: Alia, what did we say about shouting inside?

Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur: that it’s too noisy inside

Oui c’est ça mon ange: yes it is my angel

Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?: dad, what is it called again?

C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour: it’s a jack-o-lantern my love

Mais pourquoi?: but why?

Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?: Why don’t your ask your mother

Peut-on les allumer maintenant?: can we light them now?

Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes: yes come on little pumpkin, daddy will bring the matches

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illubean · 3 months

Note

Can you write a scenario/headcannons where the hxh characters have a crush on Zoldyck!reader? (I think reader would have such overprotective brothers, killua and illumi lol)

HXH with a crush on Zoldyck!reader

Characters: Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Fluff?, Headcanons, Gn!reader

why is illumi the only one with eyebrows and a mouth in this photo

Warnings: none

Kurapika Kurta

out of his two older friends Killua thinks Kurapika is the better option

but he still doesn't like the idea of you dating anyone

like his dear older sibling is giving their attention to someone other than him? unacceptable!

Kurapika is a lot more reserved with his feelings than Leorio, leaving not much room for Killua to meddle

so the younger boy just watches from afar

he gives the blonde glares and intense side eyes, and when he feels he's getting too close he won't hesitate to swoop in and steal you away

Kurapika is pretty smart so he's probably found a few ways to get around your brother

after a while of you two talking without Killua's knowledge you eventually get together

one day he caught you two holding hands under a table at the diner or sitting at a bench

he actually screams

with erratic gestures to your guys' hands he's like "WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN"

the boy is slack jawed

he thought he did such a good job keeping you separated

"watever just...don't hurt them or anything!"

Leorio Paladaknight

Killua's first reaction to learning this information is "No way, you're too old for my sibling!"

Killua babes he's only like 19

Leorio is by no means subtle with the way he feels about you even if he thinks he is

Killua makes it his life mission to keep you separated 💀

The group is splitting up and Leorio volunteers to go with you? So does Killua. He wants to sit next to you on the train? Aw too bad, your little brother is already sitting there

but if by some miracle you get away from your brother he doesn't waste a single moment in asking you out

after learning that his attempts to keep you separated failed, Killua gets a little pouty

"Seriously? You chose THIS guy!?" "What the hell is that supposed to mean you little shit!"

knowing you guys got together doesn't stop the boy from trying to get in the middle of things though

he's a pro at this point

he will find a way to crash literally any date you plan on going on soo you guys gotta be secretive about it

you probably had to come up with code words in order to plan dates 💀💀💀

Chrollo Lucilfer

the only way I see this working is if you were already part of the troupe so lets go with that

out of literally anyone on the planet he just HAD to have a crush on a Zoldyck

to say your family wasn't pleased would be an understatement

especially Illumi

the Zoldycks typically don't do -ships...like friendSHIPS or relationSHIPS so Chrollo pining for you is definitely an issue

and when two of your brothers end up joining the troupe after you

let's just say Chrollo isn't having the best time.

Kalluto is a lot less aggressive or opinionated on the matter than his eldest brother, but he still isn't fond of the idea of you ending up with the leader of the phantom troupe

he finds ways to draw your attention away from Chrollo

whereas Illumi isn't so passive

if he catches the head of the spiders so much as glancing at you he's going to stand in his line of vision with a stern "Stay away from my sibling."

and just to keep things easy on himself Chrollo heeds these warnings

well..until he's able to catch you alone

you guys are gonna have to date on the dl and be SERIOUSLY sneaky

dating while coming from a family of assassins is not an easy feat

In conlusion alongside being professional assassins, the Zoldyck boys are also professional cockblockers

261 notes · View notes

quimichi · 2 months

Note

I Read Your Twisted Wonderland 'When You Wake Him Up With Nonsense" and Wanted To Ask If We Can Get One With The Staff(With Staff!Reader) and RSA(With RSA!Reader)? 🥺

Feel Free To Ignore😭

Love You❤️ And Have a Great Day!

"=⌕ YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE / pt. 2

⌕ pt. 1 here

warnings: bad writing, as usual, some characters may seem ooc, I apologize, pet names, some might dislike those

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night with some nonsense

characters: RSA, NRC Staff and Rollo x GN!Reader

word count: 1,995

a/n: some are shorter or longer, it's just that I find some characters hard to write or I write them like I view them :) I HOPE YOU ALSO HAVE A VEEEERY NICE DAY TOO!

Chenya

The sound of your voice draws his attention to you. His breath hitches as he tries to stay asleep. He does not respond, instead he remains still as a statue. It is as if he wants to hear every word you have to say. And he wants to keep sleeping.

"Chenya, Chenya, Chenya, Chenya...Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker." Your voice cuts through the quiet. Your words pull him out of a dream.

He opens his eyes, and he looks straight at you and whines. "Why you gotta pull my full naaaaame...jus' wanna sleeeep..." "Yesterday I saw a motorcycle on the sun kissing the curtains in a cow." He blinks, utterly baffled by your words. His brow furrows and he is at a complete loss with how to respond. Finally, he settles on a simple and tired, "Wha-?" "What I said." You are utterly illogical. It makes it nearly impossible for him to comprehend you.

Your mind is fascinating, weird. You're fucking dumb sometimes.

His lips twitch upwards. That's why he loves you.

"You make no sense, ya know." He signs hard, rubbing his eyes. "And ya woke me up for that bullshit...you gotta pay me back, you better."

Neige

The sound of your voice is so familiar, and the words hit him like a wave of cool air while he's asleep. His body shifts as he starts to respond in the depths of his sleep.

"Wha-" He starts to say, his words faltering on the cusp of waking. "Cutie are you...is everything okay?" he asks groggily, a bit of sleep still clinging to him. If he could blush in his slumber, he would have been scarlet in shame for how his words slurred and garbled on his tongue. He slowly sits up, looking more worried than ever.

"I just saw a chicken picking up McDonald's at the gas station for detention." The words catch him off-guard once more, and he stares at you with a small confused smile on his face. He tries to process what you've said, but finds it impossible without more explanation.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he tilts his head to the side, looking way to adorable for his own good. His confusion soon gives way to a brief chuckle, and he smiles widely and nods, still processing your words.

"That's such a nice story!...You should tell me the ending tomorrow though..." and with that he pulls you back against him and pets your head gently before both of you fall back asleep. He's still confused tho...

Rollo

He begins to stir, slowly waking to consciousness. His eyes dart around the room, his vision blurred and unfocused as he sits up. "Mmm, yes?" Rollo could never be mad if you woken him up for a reason, a good reason.

"I forgot to tell you that the telephone told me about the flying elephant with rainbow eyes and silver shoes." Rollo raises one eyebrow at first, thinking you're playing a trick on him. The joke is too outlandish to be real. Even this is to stupid for you.

But seeing that you're serious, he has no idea what to say. He is speechless. Oh...so you are that dumb huh? At this point the lord can't save him anymore.

"Is...that so?" he finally asks. "Yes!" Rollo stares at you incredulously as you continue. Every detail you describe is nonsensical and unrealistic. But his gaze remains firmly fixed on yours, and his thoughts are blank.

He struggles to understand why you woke him up. Is this a game? He is utterly puzzled. And his annoyance is starting to seep in. But the look in your eyes is magnetic, and it is difficult for him to hold his frustration. He sighs, "You...you are truly one of a kind, are you aware of that?" But Rollo can't help but smile at you, you just had to turn his life upside down, huh?

Crowley

He stirs slightly, his eyes blinking slowly open. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he realizes you are next to him and closes it again. His expression is soft and delicate, like your presence is a beacon of light in the darkness, and all he can focus on is you. You'd be surprised, moments of his adoration aren't that rare.

"What is it?" he asks with a slight yawn, his voice still soft and sleepy. "So like, I cooked us a clock with sprinkles of snow and the clock then when away with the pan because of their date at the baseball doctor." In spite of his tired mood, he bursts into laughter. A hearty, full-bellied laugh that only he would be so amused by such ridiculous, nonsensical statements.

"Ah, my love. It seems you have discovered the wonders of a dream," the headmaster chuckles, running his fingers curiously through your hair. For a moment he ponders about what other kinds of nonsense you would utter, if this is what your brain conjures just during your sleep.

He chuckles again in amusement. "Do go on," he encourages you, still looking through you with a light in his eyes. "Did the clock turn into a frog? Did the frog wear green boots and sing rock songs in kitchen utensils?" He's amused, but he also wants to know.

Crewel

As you call to him, you can see his eyelids twitch underneath. Your voice seems to permeate his dreams. There is no immediate answer as his eyes flutter in a way that seems to indicate that he's trying to force himself awake but still struggles to do so. He turns onto his back, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice. After a moment, he finally manages to open his eyes with a low groan. His hand reaches for his forehead and rubs it, as though he's suffered from a particularly intense headache. But once he sees you, he stops, his eyes brightening at the sight of your face.

All the weariness seems to leave him in an instance, yet not entirely. He manages a smile for you. "Puppy?..." "I just ate a singing pizza who told me the story of the bees and the snakes who danced underwater." "Ah..." Divus manages a confused hum. It takes him a moment as he seems to try and work it out in his head.

"They danced in...underwater?" He asks, voice soft. "Underwater...is a body of water...but...how does one..." he looks away from you as he attempts to picture the scenario. After a moment, he shakes his head, chuckling softly into his palm. "No matter. That is quite a tale, indeed my pup."

Divus draws you close and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder and hugging you tightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his muscles tensing underneath. "Sleep..." he mumbles softly, his voice seeming to get thicker as a low growl rumbles from his chest.

"Or does my pup want to keep being disobedient?"

Trein

(Solid grandpa issues ya'll have here)

It is almost as you say his name that his eyes blink quickly. They become wide and concerned. "Dearest?" he whispers with a hint of urgency in his voice. Though his expression turns gentle as he notices you aren't hurt or sick. His shoulders relax. "Yuu, have you not been feeling well?" Mozus asks, his voice a soothing melody. After a moment, he sits up. The bed creaks with the weight of his shifting body. Even Lucius wakes up from his slumber to tip tap his way over to your shared bed.

"Did you perhaps catch a cold? I could fetch some medicine if you would like." He doesn't want to see you in pain, not even for a moment. Oh, how caring he can be sometimes..."My hair turned purple because I washed it with dirt in the afternoon 13 years ago on a full red moon at midnight."

Silence hangs in the air as you speak. Mozus's expression remains concerned; worried. And then it turns into a frown. "Ah... You must've hit your head. Or else you wouldn't speak of such nonsense" he says. Though he tries to conceal it, a flicker of irritation flashes across his eyes. Your sudden statements seem to have sparked his annoyance.

"Or are you perhaps playing a childish prank on me at unholy hours?" he asks sharply, tone becoming stern. "If there is nothing else you require, I believe you've wasted enough of your time together." He tries to keep his voice neutral, but is obviously still slightly peeved at your game. "I-Im sorry..." His anger melts at your apology. His face melts back to a soft expression as he pulls you into his arms. His voice returns to its soothing tone as he presses his lips to yours.

When he pulls away, only seconds later, there's a content smile on to his lips. "Do not apologize," he says softly, voice quiet. Yet you feel a surge of pleasure run through your body. You feel almost as light as a feather once again. "I'm happy you're in best condition."

Vargas

Ashton jolts awake as he hears your voice, immediately rising into a defensive stance as he looks at you. Protectively he stands before the bed frantically looking around for potential danger with both his fists up, ready to punch whatever lurks in your shared bedroom.

"It's okay! Is there something wrong? Are you hurt?!" he asks anxiously but wild as he still holds his position. "Wha--no?!" He reacted so fast you couldn't keep up. "Oh...!" Asthon blinks a few times as he seems to calm himself. He lowers his fists, though now he seems completely at a loss for words. He stares at you blankly.

"That is good," he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed about the situation, "very good, yes " he offers a small smile, though you can sense him struggling to gather himself. "...so I woke up because the curtains were running away from a wild toaster." Ashton blinks a few times, processing this information. He seems to ponder it for a moment and then... bursts out into laughter.

It's a loud sound, like a true suburban father laugh. It's a sound of complete delight. Though, it doesn't take him too much effort to bring himself back. "Ah... yes," he says, "Wild toasters. They are very problematic." He lets himself sink into bed again, and like before, you're to slow to react. Because the moment his head hits the pillow, he's gone. Snoring the night away...

Sam

"Hm?" The mighty lord stirs in his sleep. He pulls the sheets tighter around him, his body twitching in his sleep. The sound of his name being uttered by you seems to have broken through his slumber. "Wake uuuup~!" "Hm?" Sam finally looks up at you, his eyes barely open. They seem to focus on you, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room before he finally smiles. "Impy...?" He speaks in the softest of whispers, his voice almost hoarse as though it had been a while. "Did my friends wakw you...or...was it my snoring?"

"My shampoo ran out cause the towel used it for their skincare routine." "Ah..." He sits up, his expression still weary from sleep. Before you can even tell him to stop, he's already risen from the bed. He's practically half-asleep as he waddles towards the shop and comes back with a bottle of shampoo in hand.

He doesn't question you or the strange request at all. "There you go," he holds up a bottle of shampoo. "Only the best for my little imp, and since its you...its on the house" he says, although he looks like he's in a trance he does smirk at you.

"Thank...you?" You question as you take the bottle from his hands. Before you know it he drops face first into bed, "But...if ya need anythin' else...get it yourself...alright?" he mumbles into the pillow.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland x reader #chenya x reader #neige x reader #rollo x reader #crowley x reader #crewel x reader #trein x reader #vargas x reader #sam x reader #nrc staff #Ncr staff x reader

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carmenberzattosgf · 11 days

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Hear me out; after dating Carmen for a year you get a tattoo. It’s a decent sized Teddy Bear dressed up like a chef with his initials, C A B, on the Apron and an either the sun and the moon or a star. And he has no idea until one day you are at the restaurant and helping Marcus pipe doughnuts. Your sleeves rolled up and there it is. A teddy bear tattoo. Because to you, while Carmen is rough and tough and can be rude, when he’s with you, he’s so soft and caring. Cuddling you a lot, like a Teddy Bear. So your nickname for him is “Teddy” and when you get home? Best believe he’s going to make you cry from the pleasure as he’s kissing this tattoo-

Oh I adore this ask!

You didn’t think too much about the tattoo. You love Carmen more than anything, a tattoo is no big deal to you. Besides, Carmy has so many random tattoos himself, you decided it was time to get one.

When all is said and done, you get the tattoo on the front of your upper arm, centered in the middle. It’s winter, so you’ve only been in long sleeves for the past couple of days since you got it. In all honesty you’ve practically forgotten about it yourself.

When Marcus calls you over to help him pipe donuts, you roll up your sleeve without even thinking. He draws attention to it first. “That a new tattoo?”

“Oh! Yeah it is! Got it a few days ago.”

“Is it…” he leans in a bit closer to get a better look. It’s then he sees the initials on the apron the teddy bear is wearing. “Oh my god. Is that suppose to be Carmy in teddy bear form?”

You can’t help but laugh at Marcus’ description. “You caught onto that one quick!”

Suddenly you see Carmen walking towards the two of you. “What’s going on over here chefs? How are these donuts coming?”

“They’re coming along chef,” Marcus replies. “Did you see her new tattoo?”

“What new tattoo?” Carmen’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you. Then his eyes trail downwards to where your sleeve is rolled up on your arm. “Oh.”

“I-uh I got it a few days ago. Do you… like it?” Out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus conveniently walk away to another part of the kitchen, leaving you and Carmen alone. Blush spreads over his cheeks as he traces the “C.A.B” with the tip of his finger.

“Did you— did you get this for me?” There’s an awestruck look in his eyes that you can’t quite explain. The answer to his question is obvious, but he needs to hear you say it.

“You’re my Carmy Bear. I wanted to get something to show it.”

That night Carmy shows you just how much the tattoo means to him. He’s already made you cum twice, once with his fingers and once with his tongue, by the time he finally enters you. Your brain is so fuzzy you can barely speak. All you can do is dig your nails into his back as he pounds into you, chasing his own pleasure.

His lips aren’t on your neck, no. Carmy’s mouthing at the tattoo on your arm, moaning into your skin. “L-love you. Love you so fucking much.” He’s practically drooling on your arm, but you don’t care. His hips lose their precision, and he spills deep into you after a few more thrusts, still kissing your tattoo.

He walks into the restaurant about a week later with a brand new tattoo on his arm. It’s a heart with your first two initials inside of it.

“Carmen is that what I think it is?”

“Of course it is, sweetheart. I couldn’t let you be the only one to get a couples tattoo.” His smile is wide, like he can’t contain his joy. “I only got the first two initials because I’m hoping the last one will change soon”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy bear #carmy berzatto

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jayssluttywife · 11 days

Text

Academic Rivals: An Unlocked Drawer| p.sh rival!reader x rival!sunghoon

request>> its a bit long but tysm(!) to the anon who sent it, i was planning on smth for hoon but tysm for the idea<3

authors note>> ik i haven't posted in a while but somehow we gained another 100 followers overnight?! guys tysmmmm<3

minors do NOT read or interact (please)

"your grades have dropped drastically, I thought you were better than that", your teacher scolded. "I really want to help you so" you looked curious as your teacher stopped talking. "I got you a tutor, I think you know him". She walks toward the door revealing the presence of one and only,

Park Sunghoon.

He had a big smirk, entering the room and facing you. Your teacher thins her lips in a reassuring smile,"Ill leave you two to it then", she spoke, gathering her books and leaving before you could stop her. You look up at him, a pout of hatred and anger plastered on your face. You lightly roll your eyes as he bends to your height. Telling him your address with a quick 'dont be late', before turning on your heel to leave.

And thats how you got here now, bored and revising things that you never even knew existed. He stops talking, causing you to look up at him as if you knew he was going to say something off-topic. "Got any snacks?" he asks, smiling as you reluctantly stand up, letting out an annoyed sigh. You walk out of the room, unintentionally swaying your hips.

Sunghoon's gaze moves from your back to your ass. Your small shorts barely cover any of your flesh. He bites his lip, forcing his eyes away from the sight. You on the other hand are struggling to get the snacks for the top shelf (lmao) 'how did they even get there?' you think. You can't find anything decent to give him, so you make popcorn instead.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon looked around your room. It was filled with small pictures of yourself on beaches and small revision notes. His eyes were slowly drawn to small drawers, the middle draw with a black silk bow on the handle. It had a lock, but when he realised it was slightly opened, it made him more curious as to what was inside. Maybe it was some weird cringy 'dear diary' or childish photos.

In fact, it was the opposite. It was full of different sex toys, ones he never expected you would own, or even know of.

Instead of being disgusted, he bit his lip, never knowing that you were this filthy and dirty. He loved this, so many lewd thoughts ran through his mind. Imagining how you would twitch around the toy, letting out small moans and whines, oh he wanted you so bad.

He grabbed a small vibrator turning it on and seeing the small bud move made him smirk. There was also a small matching remote, a setting to speed and slow down the vibrations. He grabbed it and put it in his pocket, waiting for you to return.

You finally enter the room, your shirt exposing your waist as you were reaching for the top cupboard earlier. You place the popcorn in front of him and sit down. "There were no snacks so I had to make popcorn"

"Try it for me, please?" you watch as he takes one in his hand. His eyes never leave yours ashe puts the piece in his mouth. You gulp down the horniness building up in you, ignoring the wet patch forming between your legs. "Its alright" he answers, breaking your thoughts.

You turn back to your book but his deep voice stops you. "I think you forgot to lock something" he starts as your eyes connect to his, not understanding him. He pushes the chair back on its wheels, pulling the draw with him.

Your eyes widen as he reveals what you had thoughtg you locked before. You start to stutter an explanation but before you could protest, he pulls you towards him. "youre just as filthy as i thought you were" his breath blows on your face and he lets out a breathy laugh as you dont respond. "Couldve just asked me to fuck you" he taunts in your ear, his breath tickling down your neck.

"You want a cock don't you?" He mocks you, pouting as you slightly nod. "Get up for me then" you immediately get up like an eager puppy, ready to do anything for him. You watch as he pulls down his jeans, revealing his revealing his pink, leaking cock.

And look at you know, all on top of him and trembling as the small vibrator sped up again. "C'mon then, next question," he smiles as you still try your best to focus. You have sweat running down your neck, back, forehead, everywhere possible. "I-is is 52?"

He chuckles softly, "wrong baby" he coos. You start to sob again. "Sunghoon, t-too much!" he laughs as your body jolts to him adding the speed. "c'mon next one". This question was way more easier so you finally (estupido) got it right. "please let me cum sunghoon- please!" You can feel him thrusting up into you, it feels overwhelming but its just so good.

You can feel his dick hitting so high into those spongey spots no one has hit before. Even when you looked down, you could see the bulge in your belly which only made you moan more. "Hold it in a little longer baby" but you couldnt hear him anymore. Your eyes were at the back of your head at every thrust he did.

"Please sunghoon!" he sighs loudly, finally giving you a reassuring hum. As if you could hold it any longer, you feel your orgasm rain over you. Both yours and sunghoons liquid mix down your thighs.

♡

small aftercare~

Your in the bath with sunghoon bet over to your level and scrubbing your sore plush body. "Want to do this again?" your eyes grow bigger in plead but he just giggles lightly.

"Sure"

took me so long, i apologise

#enha x reader #enhypen #enhyphen hard thoughts #enhyphen x reader #enhypen smut #enhyphen sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon

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flightyquinn · 24 days

Text

thinking about how cursed objects work in most fantasy RPGs.

typically, they wind up just kind of being a big middle finger from the game master - a kind of "whelp, you should have been more paranoid, so now you get hosed" sort of deal. which includes the somewhat game-y trope of objects that you can't get rid of. it's kind of an un-fun mechanic, when you think about it, which is why in most games I've been a part of cursed items often don't see much play, unless it's as a "punishment", or part of a story arc.

...which naturally leads me to think about how to do it better. in the past, I've tried using a curse as a kind of limiter. restrictions or drawbacks to a mostly functional item that is still worth using despite being "cursed". that's good, but it doesn't let you draw on truly nasty curses, because the item needs to be worth using, but also still needs to be balanced.

so, I'm drawing from a lot of sources here, like the cursed shield in Final Fantasy VI, and especially the comics by @foldingfittedsheets, where curses exist to (literally) teach the recipient a lesson

MEAT OF THE POST STARTS HERE:

what about cursed items that have a way to overcome their curse?

it's actually a fairly common trope in classical literature / fairy tales. every curse has a way to be broken. yet in D&D and Pathfinder, most often the only way to break a curse is to find someone with the specific curse-breaking spell.

so, give each cursed item a condition. perhaps a weapon that fuels a person's rage and causes them to fly into a blind rage in battle waits for them to sincerely forgive a hated enemy. perhaps boots that slow the wearer are actually making them heavy with the weight of past transgressions and a sufficient act of atonement will free them. maybe the perpetually bloody doll that gives its bearer horrible nightmares simply waits for someone to be motivated to action by them, either to right some past wrong, or generally bring a certain number of murderers to proper justice.

...maybe a Bag of Devouring. which is technically actually a creature, not a cursed item (but usually classified with them), can be befriended by figuring out a treat it likes, and will not only carry things for the player if fed and cared for, but even cough up a few things that previous bearers had stuffed inside.

the specifics aren't too important, but the idea is that any item with a curse on it has a reason for that curse, and a way to break it. the players can drop the item at any time, sell it off, give it to someone they hate, whatever, but if they put in the time and energy to actually breaking the curse, it becomes better than it was before, sometimes simply losing a drawback, or sometimes gaining new powers.

for an example, let's look at how that doll idea from earlier could work in D&D 5e;

while the party has the doll in their possession, they will all be afflicted by horrible nightmares, seeing themselves as children being attacked by a group of eight bandits with indistinct features. the details of the dreams change each night, and the players awaken before learning their ultimate fate, but the general gist is always that they are completely helpless, and subjected to harm.

after a long rest, have them roll a Wisdom or Charisma save (challenging DC, but not too difficult), or take a small amount of psychic damage.

if the players bring murderers to justice - meaning deliver them to the proper authorities and see them punished for their crimes - the content of the dreams starts to change. one bandit gets caught or killed by the end of the dream for each real world criminal successfully punished, possibly hinting to the players what they need to do. once eight murderers in total have had their sentences enacted, the next morning the doll will be in pristine condition with a serene expression, emitting a faint glow. thereafter, any player may attune to the doll to gain the ability to cast the Guidance cantrip without components (as thought the doll's ability to project what it wants the players to do into their mind was turned to their benefit.

#tabletop gaming #tabletop roleplaying #roleplaying games #dungeons & dragons #pathfinder #game master advice #homebrew #my ideas #curses #cursed items #long post

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