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spacingstars · 1 day

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Technically these thoughts were inspired by @battlekilt's response to this post I just needed a space to luxuriate in the sauce of my own thoughts lol.

Generally, there are two points to my stream of thoughts here:

One, the personal element of Rex knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage.

Two, the professional element of Rex knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage.

I’ll first get into the weeds of point one:

By and large, Star Wars canon does not go into overt detail on exactly how it was that Rex found out about Anakin's marriage; how this occurred tends to be a matter of conjecture more often than not—usually pitted down to a matter of accident. Either comically or more seriously. I don't bring this up to disparage this take. I, in fact, held to it myself upon my first watch of TCW! But I've since reevaluated that position and have come to a completely different conclusion altogether:

Anakin told Rex intentionally.

My reasoning for this is down to a number of things, particularly due to the series of TCW novels that were written to tie into the first few seasons of TCW. The one I am primarily discussing here is Star Wars: No Prisoners, and shoving aside any other opinions that I have on this book, it holds some specific moments from Anakin about Rex that really validated the change in thought process I had the more I analyzed Anakin and Rex’s relationship.

Generally, I had before assumed it was a matter of accident (in past scenarios, I most often thought of the confession coming about from a moment where the prospect of survival was not the most cheery of outlooks); the reason as to why I held such a thought process is because Anakin’s marriage is generally his most guarded secret, he was unwilling to tell anybody about it, and in such a context, it becomes easy to assume that Rex finding out was a fluke, nothing more.

However, the more I started to really pick at Anakin and Rex’s relationship, the more I started to think it would be a lot more interesting if Anakin intentionally told Rex about the marriage.

In the past, I came about this mainly from the idea that part of what makes Anakin & Rex so interesting to me is the two-way loyalty that stretches between them, the way Rex occupies a unique space in the list of Anakin’s relationships. TCW itself frequently speaks of the trust they have in each other, to the extent other characters (like Padme herself, seen in TCW S07:E02, during the holocall scene between her and Anakin, and in No Prisoners itself) notice it. And with that in mind, I thought, more and more, it made more sense to me that Anakin had told Rex intentionally. It’s clear, given moments in the ROTS novelization, that Anakin didn’t want to shun this aspect of his life into secrecy:

from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

(This is not the only instance of Anakin expressing a desire to leave the Order in the ROTS novelization; his behaviors in ROTS itself are also indicative of this desire to me (his lack of care about getting caught with Padme in the moment she reveals her pregnancy,) and his quote of “I understand wanting to walk away from the Order,” when Ahsoka walks away from the Order during the Wrong Jedi arc. Which, if you want a short explanation for why I think Anakin stayed despite expressing multiple times a desire to leave, there are many little pieces and layers to it, but the primary conclusion I’ve come to is that Anakin stayed out of a sense of duty, particularly related to ending the war. But that’s not what this post is about.)

This leads me to believe that Anakin wanted to confide in someone—wanted someone who he could trust to share this part of him, and given the loyalty and trust he holds in Rex—and I’d also wager it’s down to Rex’s demeanor—it was easier for Anakin to tell Rex than anybody else. Of course, this was all my own conjecture! This was just me taking bits and pieces of what we have of these characters and their circumstances and affixing them into a different configuration to explain something that wasn’t elaborated on in canon.

Of course, or so I thought, because Star Wars: No Prisoners has quite the interesting scenes, scenes that do elaborate upon this.

from Star Wars: No Prisoners

also from Star Wars: No Prisoners

It’s so fascinating to me that Anakin thinks Rex is someone he owes it to tell, and doesn’t that just speak of how highly Anakin regards Rex? He’s able to think that Rex deserves to know, and not just that, but that Anakin thinks Rex would understand. Anakin describing Rex as not just professionally loyal but personally loyal is a sentiment that really strikes to the core of why I think Anakin was comfortable enough to tell Rex; because ultimately, Rex has not just given him his professional loyalty, the loyalty expected of a soldier, but he's also given the loyalty of his friendship. I really don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the feeling is mutual between them. The way Rex speaks of Anakin in Star Wars: Rebels is so damn fond. I really do think Anakin told Rex, intentionally, not just for the professional aspect of it, which I will get into shortly, but because Anakin wanted to have someone he could trust and confide in; Anakin has trust and faith in Rex, the same as Rex has trust and faith in Anakin.

from Star Wars: Age of Republic short story "501 Plus One"

And, returning to the discussion surrounding the screenshots from No Prisoners, obviously, there’s even more there, what with Anakin thinking about how he can’t just leave his men to suffer (it shows consistency in his character, in regards to the loyalty he shows his men because his thoughts here reflect those in the Umbara arc, where he refused to leave, even on orders from Palpatine, until Rex reassured him he could handle it. Which is just... it drives me batty, but my thoughts on that moment from Umbara are not strictly relevant to this post.) And part of that conniption is born out of the loss of his mother! Because he faults himself for being unable to save her, and now he's left with an all-consuming desire to ensure no one under his care dies, which, of course, will inevitably lead to Anakin being consumed by his own conniptions about death itself through his visions of Padme dying in ROTS. (I love how many layers I can peel back and examine from this one moment.)

I also have to emphasize that the biggest thing is that Anakin didn’t even tell Palpatine about his marriage. Palpatine, Palpatine, someone who had been a confidant for Anakin for so long, Palpatine, more than anyone, most certainly knows the most about Anakin; he’s the only one who truly understood how Anakin ticked, and he used that knowledge to disastrous effect.

Which to me, just reinforces how incredible it is that Anakin felt comfortable enough with Rex to tell him about his marriage.

Now, No Prisoners doesn’t actually contain a scene where Anakin tells Rex, but given his thoughts it’s very likely Rex was told shortly after the events of the book.

Now, for point 2:

Which is that, in essence, when Anakin remarks that Rex needs to know about this secret so he can freely contact him or otherwise know about the whereabouts of his location in case they get orders and Anakin, along with the 501st, need to be shipped out effective immediately.

This is a readiness issue.

Readiness is the ability of a military force to engage in assigned tasks and/or missions upon orders.

Anakin being upfront about his marriage to Rex on this principle is most certainly going to get Rex in agreement* because Rex would be aware of the logistical importance of maintaining readiness. Anakin and Rex are on the same page here because, ultimately, no one else is going to better understand these aspects of the continued function of an armed force than a clone; they're clone soldiers.

*Which, additionally, regarding the argument that Rex ends up in a precarious situation for knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage, upon further examination of this, I do not think this holds water either. I say this primarily because, ultimately, Anakin, in being married to Padme, has not broken any of the GAR’s regulations. The issue of Anakin’s marriage is of concern to the Jedi, not the GAR. And Rex is not beholden to the Jedi’s religious doctrine; Anakin is, and unless you want to argue that the Order would crack down on Rex in retribution for aiding one of its members in hiding a marriage that’s expressly against their rules… nothing would happen to Rex because ultimately the issue of Anakin and Padme’s marriage is only an issue with regards to, primarily, the Jedi Order, which is not an authority that Rex is behold to; Rex is beholden to the GAR, and, as I said, Anakin being married is not breaking any regulations I can think of… I also find it hard to believe that the GAR would be pressed about a secret marriage when much of their natborn soldier base is also likely to be married. In fact, given my previous comments about readiness, the GAR is likely to take Rex’s stance on the matter.

Rex and Anakin are on the same page regarding the issue of his marriage for both the personal reasons of it and the professional.

And, to address Rex's awkwardness about covering for Anakin in TCW S07:E02:

Rex's awkwardness about having to cover for Anakin and Padme in TCW S07:E02 is presented more as a moment of humor juxtaposed against the earnest conversation between Anakin and Padme as they discuss Anakin and Rex's relationship; it's meant to be a funny-sweet moment regarding the relationship between them. This entire moment is meant to show the familiarity Anakin and Rex have with each other, to the point they have a system worked out between each other when Rex needs to cover for Anakin, which I should also say the fact that Rex is willing to lend his gear** to Anakin for this cover story is something I consider to be a big display of trust, it's very much a classic "friend covers friend," kind of moment.

**That helmet is important to Rex's identity. It is, in effect, his face; it is a custom helmet, donning his signature jaig eyes; it is what most people are going to think when they hear Captain Rex; it is, effectively, Rex trusting Anakin enough to hand over a vital part of his identity.

Everything about this moment screams familiarity to me in the way Anakin and Rex conduct themselves with each other; I find it quite telling that Rex is comfortable enough to tell Anakin they don't have time for what Anakin is suggesting they do in front of the bad batch. Rex is essentially saying no to something that can read as an order from his commanding officer to other clones. The fact that Rex is comfortable enough with Anakin to do so is massive, and as I've said before it shows the familiarity and comfort the two have with each other in their personal relationship. When Anakin first implores Rex to provide cover; Rex's insistence on them not having time for that—to me—less indicates that Rex doesn't like covering for Anakin, but more so that Rex is fixated on the mission because he just got a glimmer of hope that Echo is still alive.

It should also be said, Rex is simply awkward; it's just a facet of his personality. He's an awkward dork in armor.

With all that said, to paraphrase a quote from the post that started this ramble, Rex was one of Anakin’s best friends. (And I personally think that the feeling is mutual given the numerous times Rex has expressed similar sentiments towards Anakin.) :3c

It should also be said that much of this post was made much more coherent thanks to @battlekilt, who was also a great help in fleshing out much of these thoughts, especially those pertaining to Anakin and Rex's interactions in TCW S07:E02.

#The TCW novels are very important to me for numerous reasons but mostly the fact that they vindicated #many of the thoughts I developed about Anakin and Rex's dynamics lol #Anakin Skywalker #Captain Rex #Star Wars #Long Post #Space's Fandom Stuff #Space's Chatter #<- there look I have a meta tag now lol #Fandom Stuff

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bellasprettywords · 2 days

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Hey, I love your writing! I was wondering if you’d do a little something based off of the lyrics “Well, every once in awhile, she'll find my number in her phone and we'll talk for hours She'll tell me things I would have never known about when we were together She's saying, "Sorry, it's just such a long walk home" So she's coming over cause it's better than being alone” Spencer Reid x female reader. I was thinking more like a Midwest emo alt type of character, totally not someone you’d expect Spencer to go for?

I think your nose is bleeding (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Thank you very very much for the request!! I hope you like this little one shot, because I didn't know the song, but I hope I could meet your expectations🩷✨

My masterlist

Requests are always open🥰

Warnings: Mmm apart of it being a little messy, I think there's nothing, but it fluff

Word count: 1,232

y/n – your name

Spencer and you were kind of an odd couple, excuse me, a couple of friends for the untrained eye. While he’s a trained scholar with a collection of PhDs on Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering; with an impressive job as a profiler at the FBI, which most of the time had him travelling all around the country, and a shy personality with socially awkward tints, and a genius brain. You are a tattoo artist with a free spirit, a soft spot for poetry, love for sassy comebacks, and a special love for midwest emo music. Once upon a time, almost a year ago, Spencer and you were a couple, but the two of you decided to leave things as friends, because your lifestyles were quite different, which made a relationship considerably difficult for you. However, the two of you decided to stay friends, which seemed kind of easier as you established a set of rules to make sure everything between the two of you could flow naturally.

Even if it was as friends, you knew that the two of you seemed like polar opposites, but the love you shared always made you be better for each other, growing up, learning about the other’s point of view, and becoming empathetic, even if you didn’t see eye to eye under certain circumstances. After your break-up, Spencer and you learned to compromise and commit to make sure the friendship could work, sure, sometimes it was hard considering his packed schedule, and your love for spontaneous adventures.

It was a little later than you would usually close the tattoo studio, so you decided to call Spencer to see what he was up to; you hadn’t talked in a while, so you weren’t even sure if he was in the city, but it was worth it to take the shot.

“Hey, y/n, it’s nice to hear from you” you heard Spencer’s voice through the phone

“How are you, mighty Doctor Reid?” you asked excited because, deep down, you were really longing to hear Spencer’s voice

“I’m… I’m alright, you know, just doing my thing; how are you? It’s been ages” he said trying to hide his own excitement to hear from you. Sure, you were friends, but deep down Spencer hoped that with time and more organization, maybe someday the two of you could rekindle your previous relationship

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I know what you mean! I’ve missed you Spence, I hope I’m not interrupting you at work or anything” you said, walking to your car

“No, I’m just home solving a puzzle, and deciding what to order for dinner” he said

“Uh, that’s nice, I was actually thinking about going to Little India to get take out. I’m really craving chicken curry, want anything?” you said jokingly, pretty sure Spencer wouldn’t catch the subtext

“Uh… sure, some chicken tikka masala and flatbread would be pretty amazing, thank you for asking” Spencer said, ensuring you he didn’t catch the joke

“An order or chicken tikka masala, white rice, and flatbread, coming right up” you said getting ready to hang up the call, when Spencer interrupted

“Wait, don’t hang up” he said as you turned on your car engine “I want to go with you, if that’s okay, I mean, if it’s not an imposition” he stuttered this time

“It would be delightful, sure, I love talking to you” you said with a shy smile forming on your lips, “What have you been up to? Any cool cases I can know about?” you asked Spencer

“I flew in today from Atlanta, we went to solve a case there” Spencer stared telling you all about the case, the unsub and how the team managed to save the victims that were abducted, when a car cut you off and honcked at you

“Jerk” you said under your breath

“y/n! are you okay? what was that?” Spencer asked frantically

“I’m okay, I’m okay, it was just some jerk” you said hoping to soothe Spencer’s concern “Did you know I hate driving?” you asked the young doctor

“I didn’t know that” he said sounding quite surprised at your revelation

“I really do! That’s why I’d always ask you if we could carpool when we were together” you confessed

“Hu… That would’ve been useful information back then” he said, making sure of making a mental note about that, to ensure to drive you whenever he could do it

The two of you kept talking, and the 40-minute drive that you needed to get to your favorite Indian restaurant, suddenly felt like a 5-minute stroll with the one you loved. Talking to Spencer like this felt amazing, it was peaceful, it almost felt natural like breathing, he always had the right words for you and even when you paused the conversation for a little while, the silence between the two of you was incredibly comfortable. You arrived at your destination and while you were ordering the food, Spencer stayed on the line with you, speaking about an impressive number of folkloric Indian stories, and facts about the country. You picked up the food and drove to Spencer’s apartment, this time, the drive was quite short, but that didn’t mean it was least pleasant with Spence’s rambling

When you arrived to the apartment building, Spencer was already downstairs waiting for you

“Hey boy-genious, I was at least hoping I could separate the orders before giving them to you” you said, a little butt hurt that apparently, Spencer didn’t even want you on his apartment

“What are you talking about? I’m here to help you carry the bags upstairs” he said a little confused by your comment

“Oh, I thought… Never mind” you said brushing off the butterflies that starter fluttering inside your stomach

“I’m really glad you called, you had no idea how much I missed you” Spencer said as you were entering the apartment building

“I missed you too Spence” you said

The night went amazingly, and the damn butterflies wouldn’t go anywhere. The two of you eat dinner together, and it almost felt as you have never broken up, the conversation flowed, and you could feel how this was one of those moments you’d always treasure in your heart

“I should get going, it’s a really long drive home” you said as soon as the clock struck 12:00 am

“Don’t go, please, just… stay the night” Spencer pleaded with his puppy eyes

“I really shouldn’t” you replied, avoiding eye contact with Spencer. Sure, one would argue that a friend can stay over at another friend’s apartment, but you knew that with Spencer it would be complicated, especially as you weren’t over him yet

“I’m begging you, I may seem alright, but as soon as I go to bed without you I feel so… empty and alone. This apartment is not the same without you, as a matter of fact, my life is not the same without you” Spencer said taking your chin so you could look at him in the eye

“If I stay the night, I may never leave” you said, gifting Spencer a side smile

“Maybe I just don’t want you to leave” Spencer said, leaning forward and starring intensively into your eyes, so you did what any normal person who has the object of his or her desire would’ve done: you leaned forward, and kissed Spencer

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yuhenglesbian · 10 months

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Thinking once again somehow of how important it is to me that when Wei Wuxian came back to life in Mo Xuanyu's body, the only two people who recognised him were Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng.

Nothing is more proof of the fact that Jiang Cheng cared deeply for Wei Wuxian. Yes, he was hurt and there was anger but the fact that he held onto his rage and grief for years doesn't read to me as, "he hated Wei Wuxian so much he never forgave him for anything." Rather it reads as anger being the manifestation of Jiang Cheng's grief around losing his brother and closest confidant.

#i think about it a lot actually #but my lord #jiang cheng's hate and anger are all so closely tied to his love for people and his feelings of failing them #rather than “jc hates wwx” its “jc hates (the fact that he couldnt be there for) wwx (when wwx needed him)”#and like that's ok!! he was dealing with losing everything he knew and grew up with #and the circumstances made nothing easier #its actually been years so i cant go into a full analysis bc i dont rmbr a lot #but understanding grief and anger and how close they are are so central to understanding jc #mdzs #cql #fari's all-time faves #i think that's a better way to tag stuff like this #but god urgh. i love them all so much #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #not chengxian let me make this clear #this feels so incomplete but i dont want to go indepth bc if im wrong about details that'll be very embarrassing for me and i'll have to die

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transthatfag · 2 years

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fuck this is a situation. I HATE SITUATIONS 🔪

#this guys is REAAAAAAALLY not making it any easier to figure this stuff out #please you can’t ask me if I’m ‘always this romantic’ BITCH WHAT #you can’t say ‘I just want to hold your hand’ HUH #when I ask ‘platonically?’ you can’t just be like ‘yeah something like that’ WHAT HUH WHAT WHATTTTTTT #no no nonononoonin I need to reel this shit back and so does he because this is. something. it’s a situation and it can’t happen like this #he’s LITERALLY dating someone rn this can’t be a thing #it can be something PLATONICALLY but nothing more!!#this cannot be a situation in these circumstances #ok maybe I’m reading into it but also I’m not the one who said I wanted to hold hands #like yeah I wanna cuddle him and shit but at least I keep it to myself shit #why’d he have to say that #it can’t go past that #it can’t. this is bad #and in the end I made a situation out of the situation and held his hand anyways #it isn’t a situation but it is for me #fuck everything.

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gimmeurtmi · 7 months

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kinktober day five — hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

tags: friends to lovers (kinda), kinktober series, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, nude drawings, fingering, masturbation, use of “pretty”, lmk if i forgot anything!

inspo: uni student hyunjin but make it art

kink: exhibitionism

{ wc: 2522 }

It was a strange thing to be offered, but it was also flattering to be seen as a suitable candidate. The art department had reached out to a number of students to act as models for their sketch class—and you were one of them. It probably helped that your best friend, Hyunjin, was taking that class and you were sure he was the one to mention your name first.

He had asked you a few times to model for him and the only time you said yes was when you found a thrilling show to watch while you modelled; it was easier to stay still with your mind so occupied.

So you said yes.

And only then did the teacher tell you there was a catch.

“Nude?” You all but screamed.

“I know you and Mr. Hwang are close so I can pair you two together—but if you’re more comfortable modelling for a female student that’s fine too. Either way, you won’t be able to participate until you sign the forms.”

You looked at the consent forms in your hand, mulling it over for a few moments still. Modelling for a girl would be more comfortable, but you didn’t know anyone that took Art and being naked in front of a stranger was far more nerve wracking to you.

You called Hyunjin right away. He assured you he’d make sure you’re comfortable and that you didn’t have to agree at all and that he would buy you lunch for a week. He needed a good score on this assignment and he, too, didn’t feel all that comfortable sketching a stranger under those circumstances.

So you signed the forms.

You decided to use your room for the assignment, for privacy reasons and to help you feel more at ease. Nothing could be too scary with your supportive plushies in the same room as you.

Hyunjin walked in with his iced Americano (a second one for you, too) and started setting up his station.

He put all his pens and pencils in order, three huge erasers, two sharpeners, and his giant sketchbook. It was so big you guessed the sketch would end up being life sized.

As he set everything up, you fiddled nervously with the string of your robe. It was just your bathrobe, nothing too special, but the whole situation made your heart race and there was sweat gathering on your forehead.

You weren’t so sure if you could do this after all.

“Hyune,” you start, “does it have to be completely nude?”

He looked up at you from where he was straightening his pencils, eyes boring into you. You swallowed.

“Those are the requirements,” he caught his bottom lip between his teeth before he adds, “do you wanna put on some underwear as a warm-up?”

“Do you need sketches of me in my underwear?” You purse your lips.

“Not really,” he says, bashfully, “but if it’ll be an easier start for you?”

You inhale deeply. Untie your bathrobe. Exhale.

You let the fabric fall off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, before you settle on your bed.

Hyunjin nods at you with a small smile, encouraging.

“You got this,” he tries, putting a fist up in the air in solidarity.

“Can I put on a podcast so I don’t get bored?” You say, conscious to not move your legs too far apart.

“Sure, it’ll probably take me a while,” he chuckles, “I need to do like five.”

“Oh, dear god,” you roll your eyes and Hyunjin laughs at you. The nerves you were feeling have all disappeared already—it actually isn’t too weird being naked in front of him.

He’s your closest friend, has seen you being sick after drinking too much, has seen all your embarrassing childhood photos, has seen you with bed head and delirious from no sleep. He’s seen it all—so it shouldn’t be too weird for him to see your tits, too.

Hyunjin directs your poses, the first one casual as you lay on your back. He’s only sketching your upper body, he says, from the neck to your bellybutton, so he lets you cover up your bottom half with a blanket so you aren’t too cold. The first pose is fun since you don’t have to do anything too strenuous.

Once he flips the page on his sketchbook to a new one he changes your pose. This time your profile is facing him, the leg closer to him bent to hide most of your body. You don’t get the privilege of warmth this time, and your butt starts hurting after ten minutes in this position. But you focus on the podcast that’s still playing in the background instead, trying to be a good model for Hyunjin.

For the third pose he gets up and moves the table to the very edge of your bed. You look at him questioningly as he does so, before you let out a small, “why?”

“It’s just that, well, I need a close up,” he whispered the last part, eyes focused on rearranging his pencils neatly.

“Of….?” You think you know the answer.

“Of you,” he says, pointedly, and so you understand.

You can’t help but think he was going too easy on you until now, that this was the real assignment and he didn’t want to scare you away. And perhaps it worked, because the thought of Hyunjin staring at your pussy with that amount of concentration doesn’t scare you as much as it would’ve twenty minutes ago.

It actually… excites you. You feel a tingle all around your stomach, and your heartbeat feels louder all of a sudden.

It was one thing to just be naked in front of Hyunjin, but having him look right at you, with his face frowned in concentration made your core flutter.

You nod timidly at Hyunjin’s questioning look before he smiles. He sits back down on his chair, grabbing his pencil, and getting to the task at hand.

You feel yourself getting wet at the amount of attention he’s giving your body—even if it’s just with his eyes—and you hope he doesn’t notice it. But you do, and with your legs spread the way he asked them to be, you can even smell your own arousal. You hope he isn’t close enough to notice it as well, but you have a feeling that hope is futile. He can definitely tell.

“I read a lot about this once we were given the assignment,” he starts, focusing solely on his sketchbook as he talks, “and sometimes models feel.. you know. So don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m…” you wanted to defend yourself, because you weren’t even that embarrassed. Just surprisingly turned on. “Okay.”

“It would be more embarrassing for you if you were a guy, guys can’t hide it,” he says, as if to make you feel better.

“I don’t think I can hide anything from you right now,” you scoff at him. Hyunjin giggles in response.

He lets another five minutes or so go by before he takes a look at his drawing. You can’t be too sure because you’ve never seen yourself so close before but it looks like a good sketch. A really good one. You’re flattered at the attention to detail and it doesn’t make you feel shy anymore. You’re almost proud.

“When I was reading,” he coughs, “there was someone who said it’s nicer to sketch those body parts after.. a.. well,”

“You’ve just stared at my vagina for twenty minutes straight, Hyune, surely you can get some words out.”

He looks up at you, eyes round and glossy. His plush bottom lip is slightly red from where he’s been sucking on it as he draws.

“Female genitalia is a beautiful subject to draw after the model has experienced sexual gratification.”

You burst out laughing. “Who talks like that?”

“That’s a direct quote from the article!” He defends.

“So you want me to sexually gratify myself?”

He blushes deeply at that, shaking his hands quickly. “Not if that’s weird! Just if you wanted to. I have enough to probably pass I was just curious if she was right about it and—“

The words die on his tongue when you bring your hand between your legs. Your actions are fuelled by a strange bravery you aren’t familiar with, and the insane amount of arousel that’s coursing through you.

He quickly gets up, turning his eyes away from you.

“Wait, I can leave and you can call me back in when you’re d—“

“—don’t,” you say, running your fingers up and down your wetness, “maybe you can draw the process, too?”

His eyes go wide, so wide he almost looks like a cartoon, before he’s fumbling around to find the chair again. He sits down, quickly grabbing his pencils but they all fall onto the floor in his clumsy urge to get drawing right away.

He recovers them quickly, setting them aside but not at all bothering to arrange them in his neat order like before.

“Yeah, good idea,” he finally says, trying his best to look and draw and breathe at the same time.

He doesn’t have time to draw you teasing yourself before you slip two of your fingers inside you.

The sight is so pretty, so beautiful, and Hyunjin freezes for a moment. He blinks once then twice before he quickly starts putting pencil to paper and sketching out the sight before him.

He knows he won’t be able to do any of it justice but he has to try.

“Can you, move a little less?” He asks after a moment or two.

“I won’t reach sexual gratification if I don’t move,” you explain with a chuckle. If you’re honest, having Hyunjin watching you touch yourself might be enough to get you to cum without much movement at all—but you aren’t sure he should know about all that.

“Yeah, but it’s fucking beautiful and I want to get the details right,” he says.

You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said. You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.

“Pull them out a little bit, just so I can see better,” he directs, so simply, as if he isn’t talking about your fingers deep inside your cunt.

You follow his directions dutifully, as you’ve done all afternoon.

It’s just half of your fingers now, which isn’t much, but you can still feel the stretch. Still, with no friction available to you it makes you needy. So needy.

You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more.

“Hyune,” you say, softly.

“Yeah?” He asks, still concentrating on his task.

“Wanna move now,”

“Just a few final details, okay?” He adds in a whisper, “you’re so beautiful,”

“Hyunjin, please,” you let out, because his compliment isn’t helping your patience at all.

“Would it help if you moved for a bit and then went back to the same pose?” He offers, eyes swimming in sympathy.

“It would, yes,” you nod quickly.

“Go on, then, just for a bit,” he smiles, supportive, before his gaze goes back to his sketch. He takes an eraser, fixing up a few details in an attempt to give you some privacy. But you don’t want that at all.

“Hyunie,” you whine out, and his head snaps up in a second. “It’s no fun if you look away.”

“I, I’m trying not to,” his eyes jump between your face and your exposed pussy, then back to the page. “You should have some privacy.”

“Don’t want it,” you say quickly, fingers moving slowly in and out as he gives you a bit more attention, “want you to see this.”

“I wanna see it too,” he says quietly, “it’s so beautiful.”

“Then look at me,” your fingers move quicker now, your palm resting against your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, “watch me fuck myself.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin all but moans, head falling backwards before he quickly zeros in on your cunt.

You let your eyes scan down to his crotch, see the bulge he’s so clearly been trying to hide.

“Come here,” you ask him, patting the space next to you, “want you to really see me.”

Hyunjin almost flips the table over and runs to you, but instead he just trips over one of the legs, letting all the pencils fall again, before he’s climbing onto the bed.

He settles right in front of you, his knee touching your ankle, and lets himself fully gape at the sight in front of him.

“I looked through a lot of portraits you know,” he starts softly, his voice lower than usual, “and I think your pussy is the prettiest one.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the artist,” you smirk at him, mostly to try and hide how much you like him complimenting you.

“Not my sketch,” he’s quick to correct you, “the one here.”

As he says it, he brings his big hand on top of yours, pushing against your hand until your fingers go as deep as they can.

You moan loudly at that, jaw hanging open.

“That’s what you wanted, deep,” he confirmed to himself, looking at your knuckles disappearing into you. “Looks so nice like this, too.”

He grabs your wrist, lifting and pushing your hand in an impossible pace. Your fingers are sore from it after only a few seconds, but Hyunjin’s beautiful face is looking right at you and so you don’t do anything but moan.

“So pretty like this, too,” he says, slightly strained.

You grip his bicep, needing something to ground you as the pleasure starts building and building. It’s much more solid than he lets on, his arms big and strong and his grip on your hand tightening as your whines grow higher and higher until— “I’m gonna…”

“Want me to see it? Should I watch as you cum all over your fingers, pretty?”

And that’s all it takes for it to hit you at full force, your eyes shutting tightly as the pleasure takes over.

Hyunjin giggles at you, small dimples appearing by his cheeks as he averts his gaze away from you. He’s so beautiful even with his head turned away, looking for something.

He quickly finds it and grabs the tissues by your bed to hand you one. You quickly clean off your fingers as you giggle.

“Should you get back to drawing now?” You ask, breathless.

“Yes,” he nods, getting up with a very obvious tent in his pants. He adjusts himself as discreetly as he can, but a sense of pride takes over you knowing you’ve made him hard in the first place.

He gathers the pencils off the floor.

“Next I think I wanna draw your face when you cum, it’s really fucking gorgeous,” he says offhanded as he sketched out the outline of your cunt.

“I’ll have to cum again, no?” You mumble.

“That can be arranged,” he doesn’t even look up.

Your breathe catches in your throat.

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rosexxi · 8 months

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Hiii idk if you write for mattheo riddle but I was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle × hufflepuff!reader one with princess treatment and secret dating? Maybe some angst with fluff at the end? If not no problem thank youuuuuu🦧

My Love 🌸❤️‍🔥

Dating a jealous Mattheo Riddle in secret is never a good idea

a.n // swearing, Mattheo is lowkey mean at one point

fluff/angst // m.r x hufflepuff! reader

Mattheo never was a morning person. Becoming one was one of the "good" habits he had developed since becoming your boyfriend. He was also getting less detentions, owing it to you, and your good influence. He would almost always have his homework completed, his grades were improving as he actually attended his lessons, and he no longer joined in with his childish friends as they practically bullied their classmates. He also had you believe he quit smoking. He didn't and would always discard his cigarette whenever you saw him, but how could he tell you the truth when you looked so proudly at him, as though he had the entire world in his hands.

Almost everyone around him had noticed the small changes in his behaviour, but no one needed to know that he had his own guardian angel in human form that made smiling come a lot easier to him than before.

"You're really special to me, y/n." he had whispered that secret meeting at the Black Lake. It had become a routine for the two of you to meet at the lake and spend time just being two teenagers in love without the burden of family and circumstances. After all, he was the Slytherin prince, son of the dark lord, and you were simply a girl in Hufflepuff. Nothing special, though his words would have you believing otherwise.

You were sitting between his legs as he leaned against a tree, back leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

You smiled at his words, how he was able to be so soft, "You're special to me too Mattheo."

He brought up a soft hand to pull your chin to face him, "I mean it, princess, you've changed my life for the better. You're so pure and kind, dont know what you're doing with me."

You looked up at him with wide eyes as you pressed a kiss in his palm.

"Don't look at me like that angel," he groaned, throwing his head back, "You don't know what you do to me."

You giggled at his exaggerated actions, "You're such a drama queen Mattheo."

"It's just what you do to me."

"Mattheo, I haven't done anything to you. You've always been a kind, caring soul, and now everyone else sees what I see."

"Lucky them." he said sarcastically, "Come on then, princess, I've got practice, and you've got a Hogsmeade date with Lavender, we can't keep her waiting." he tapped your side, and you got up, holding a hand out to pull him up. He smiled down at you when you did, always in love with how much taller he was than you. You pulled him into a hug, and he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Meet me tonight?" he whispered.

You shook your head into his chest, "I can't, I'm studying in the library with Cho and Lavender."

He rolled his eyes, thankful you couldn't see the look of annoyance on his face. He loved you (though he hadn't yet said), but what he didn't love was the secrecy of your relationship that prevented you from doing normal couple things. To be entirely honest, it was his decision to keep the relationship a secret, but it was all for you. Everyone in Hogwarts loved you. You were popular and incredibly liked because of your friendly, positive spirit. The last thing he needed on his conscious was ruining that for you, making you be seen with him.

He leaned down to press a soft kiss on your cheek, "I'll see you later then, yeah?"

You smiled sweetly at him and nodded, "Of course, have a good practice."

"but y/n are you ok with this arrangement?" asked Lavender, your best friend, at The Three Broomsticks.

"Arrangement? God Lavender you make it sound like a business deal."

Lavender was the only person who knew about you and Mattheo, as the two of you couldn't help but gossip about everything, including your own lives.

"It sounds that way to me. I mean, he won't even talk to you in public."

"He talks to me." you muttered.

"A subtle nod of encouragement doesn't count."

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, but deep down, you knew she was telling the truth.

At the beginning of the relationship, you didn't mind that he didn't want to tell anyone, but it had been four months, and he was still treating you as this big secret. You were able to deal with it as he was a good boyfriend. You may have been dating in secret, but he always made his presence known and treated you like a princess, even if it was from a distance.

"I don't know anymore Lavender how am I even supposed to bring it up in conversation. Maybe he's ashamed of me or something."

"I really hope he isn't because then I'd have to kill him. Just ask him."

"I can't just ask him."

"Why not, I thought you weren't scared of him."

You sighed out in exasperation, "I'm not. But, I just don't want to ruin things."

Lavender stared empathetically at you, taking your hand into hers, "y/n, he's your boyfriend, acknowledging you in public is the literal bare minimum."

"I know, I'll talk to him."

"Oi big game tomorrow Smith." heckled Malfoy in Potions the next day. You rolled your eyes from beside Zacharias Smith, the chaser for Hufflepuff.

"As far as I can remember, Hufflepuff beat Slytherin last Malfoy." you said to the cocky blonde boy, "let's hope you don't get injured this time." you smiled sweetly at him. Mattheo sniggered from beside Malfoy, earning a nudge from his friend and quidditch teammate.

"What, she's not wrong." he shrugged to a scowling Malfoy, a grin evident on his usual miserable face.

"Shut it, Riddle. And you too l/n, you might want to pay more attention to Snape, last I checked you failed this class."

You rolled your eyes at the petty boy. Of all Mattheo's friends you liked Malfoy the least, he was arrogant and immature. You took your attention off of him and continued with the potion before you.

"You might want to stop paying attention to Snape, Malfoy. You act like his little pet." muttered Zacharias Smith to Malfoy. Tensions always rose near quidditch games, and Smith could have been just as petty as anyone else. His remark made you laugh out loud, especially after seeing the look of annoyance on Malfoys face.

"Is something funny Miss l/n?" Came Snape's monotonous voice.

"No sir."

Snape took one look at you and Smith down his nose and turned back to his lesson, "The two of you can join me for detention tonight and exchange as many jokes as you want then."

You rolled your eyes behind Snape's back, knowing best not to challenge his words.

"Bet you're happy to be in detention with your little girlfriend and Snape." laughed Malfoy.

"Shut it, teachers' pet." argued Smith.

"Leave it Zacharias, there's no point."

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend Smith."

You shook your head at Malfoy's childish behaviour and raised your eyebrows at your boyfriend who stood beside him. Half expecting Mattheo to say something in your defence, but you knew he wouldn't. He wore a scowl like no other and aggressively worked on his potion, occasionally huffing in anger. Though you had no idea as to what he was angry about, if anything, you should be the angry one as he allowed his best friend to talk down to his girlfriend.

The lesson seemed to draw out, and you were glad you were paired up with Zacharias, whose jokes took your attention off of your sulking boyfriend. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mattheo burning holes into you with his intense gaze. He didn't engage once in Blaise and Draco's conversation. Instead, with his jaw clenched, he sulked over his potion.

"I'm sorry about Snape giving us detention, but I also half expected it the second Malfoy spoke." Smith said in the corridor when the class had finally finished.

"It's fine, I did aswell, we all know Malfoy has Snape in his pocket. Thanks for defending me though."

"Of course, anytime y/n, I just can't stand him, I really hope we win tomorrow, wipe the smile off his face."

"Me too, I will be cheering so much for you guys."

Zacharias smiled at you, "Then I'm sure we'll win. I'll see you at detention. I'm gonna go meet my mates, bye y/n."

"Bye Zacharias," you waved him goodbye and made your way to your dorm room.

Detention with Snape came quick and ended just the same. You and Zacharias met outside his classroom, and Snape simply had you organise some of his ingredients for class the next coming lesson.

"Bye y/n, I've got practice now but I'll see you tomorrow hopefully."

"Bye Zacharias, of course you'll see me," you smiled as you waved him goodbye. You had known Zacharias a long time, practically growing up with each other due to living in the same neighbourhood.

"Enjoy detention, did you?" came a familiar voice in the otherwise empty corridor.

"Don't think anyone enjoys detention, Mattheo." You replied as your boyfriend emerged from a dark corner.

"I waited for you," he began, stopping to inhale from his cigarette, "Seems you had good company though."

You stared at him as he fiddled with his cigarette, "I thought you quit."

"Only do it when I'm stressed." he shrugged. A clear lie. His demeaner entirely different to how he was the other day at the Black Lake.

"What's there to be stressed about? You seemed just fine sulking in potions." You said crossed your arms.

"I weren't fucking sulking, forgive me for not being all chipper when my girlfriends practically throwing herself at my rival." he spat out.

"Throwing herself?! Excuse me, Mattheo, I was simply speaking to my lifelong friend. What, you wanted me to speak to you as you practically let Malfoy be rude to me, your girlfriend might I add." You pointed an accusing finger into his chest.

"That's different, not like I was flirting with someone else in front of you."

"I was not flirting. And don't act all high and mighty when you won't even defend me. You'd rather keep me a secret so you don't have to speak up to your friends."

"I'm not scared to speak up against Malfoy," he sneered as he let out a bitter laugh, "Whatever love, I've got a game to focus on. I can't be doing with your crying because I won't hold your hand in public."

"Mattheo, that's mean." you sighed, voice threatening to break, incredibly taken aback by his harsh tones. All this because you were nice to a boy you had known forever. You should have known. Everything with Mattheo was perfect, almost too perfect it made you forget how mean he could be. He was simply no different to Malfoy, and you stupidly thought he would be.

He merely shrugged at your words and turned on his heels, marching down the corridor down to the dungeons. He left you there with tears threatening to fall.

You woke up the next day in low spirits later than usual. You managed to pull yourself out of bed and make it to breakfast just before it ended. Your eyes were puffy from crying and your face red. You managed to catch a glimpse of Mattheo sitting at the Slytherin table. He didn't look as he usually did before a quidditch match. His eyes were on you instead of on his captain, and a faint air of guilt lingered around him.

"Hey you ok y/n?" asked Cadwallader from across the table. Another one of Hufflepuff's chasers.

"Just tired. Good luck today though, all of you."

"Thanks y/n, I think we've got this win, though." winked Zacharias.

You sat with Lavender in the stands and watched absentmindedly as the two teams came onto the pitch. The Hufflepuff players wore smiles and carried a sense of certainty about them, contrasting to the scowls plastered on the Slytherin players. Draco Malfoy, captain of them all, aggressively shook the hand of the Hufflepuff captain, Cadwallader, and took his place in the sky with his other chasers, Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo stared daggers into the Hufflepuff team, occasionally taking his eyes off of them to look down at you. The game began and seemed to be like any other. Slytherin scored first, followed by Hufflepuff, then Hufflepuff again, and Hufflepuff again. Seeing your house team win put you in higher spirits, and you laughed with your best friend, as you cheered.

You smiled up at the players, even smiling at your boyfriend though quickly regretting so as you were met with a look of anger.

"And it's Zacharias Smith again for Hufflepuff, he's on a roll," yelled Lee Evans who was quick to support anyone who wasnt Slytherin, "And the Hufflepuff seeker has found the golden snitch and Hufflepuff win!! Wait, seems as though Riddle isn't too happy with that one."

The smile on your face was quickly wiped away, as were the feelings of joy to see your house win. You were now staring down at the pitch with wide eyes as Mattheo Riddle was single handedly throwing punches and spitting harsh words at both Smith and Cadwallader. You quickly brought your hands to your mouth, gasping in shock at the actions of your boyfriend. You had seen Mattheo in plenty of fights during your time at Hogwarts, but it was harder to watch now that you were in fact his girlfriend.

"Haha go on Cadwallader, tiny lad but he's finally landed a punch, and Smith lanky git," chuckled Evans as he commented on the spectacle that had everyone's attention, "Riddle is now joined by Malfoy and Nott who are not coming to fight but to pull him away. Awh, shame, I wanted to see a proper fight. Sorry, professor, definitely not supporting aggression in Quidditch. Ooh, Smith and Cadwallader look nasty, but they've finally taken Riddle off. Well, dragged him off. No one likes a sore loser, Mattheo mate."

You wanted to follow Mattheo into the dressing room and ask him a million question, well shout them at him, but you knew he'd only lash out at you. Mattheo had actually never spoken to you in any way other than calmly. Even back to before you had begun dating Mattheo was almost nice to you, but in his current state you knew best than to approach him.

After some time, you hesitated around the locker rooms if you should enter. Even if you had fought yesterday, you were his girlfriend and maybe he needed you. It seemed that the other players had all gone, and only Theodore and Mattheo were left. Just then, Theodore left the changing room.

"Oh hi y/n, you should definitely go see him." he nodded nonchalantly.

"Theodore, you know?" you managed to get out, though incredibly taken aback at his nod of acknowledgement.

"Oh, I always knew. Riddle told me way back when he had used to fancy you," he shrugged, "you should know what he did last night was shitty but he did have a go at everyone if that balances it out."

"He what?"

"Yeah, after he came back from your detention, he had a go at Malfoy. Said if he ever spoke about his girl again, he'd break his face." Theodore laughed, "He really likes you y/n, he's just a bit awkward with his feelings and words, not to mention incredibly insecure. Don't tell him I said that though."

"Thanks Theodore I won't, I'll go talk to him."

You walked into the Slytherin locker room cautiously. It was seemingly empty, but there in the corner was your boyfriend. Mattheo. He was sat shirtless hunched over the bench, his head in his hands. You walked closer to him to see his bare back covered in old bruises and scars. It hurt your heart to be reminded of the painful past he had to endure. Upon hearing your footsteps, he lifted his head, turning to face you.

"Hi." He whispered.

His face was covered in dried blood. His lip was cut, as well as his eyebrow, and you were sure he had had a nose bleed aswell.

"Oh, Mattheo." you whispered upon seeing him, wanting nothing more than to hold him and clean him up, "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged, "Are you here to break up with me?"

"Break up with you? Why would I do that?"

"Because look at me," he laughed, "I picked a fight with your friends."

You shook your head and made your way towards him, sitting down between his legs and holding his hands in yours.

"I don't care about them Mattheo I care about you. But I can't do anything about it if you push me away which is what it feels like."

"I know," he nodded, looking anywhere but at you. He seemed frustrated, "It's just stupid, I don't know how to say it."

"Just say words I'll put them together."

"You're too kind, princess," he shook his head, "I just got jealous when I saw you with your Hufflepuff friends. It's stupid. Reminds me of why I wanted to keep you, us a secret in the first place. And then I saw them today, and that tiny arse wanted to ask you out, and we were losing, and I lost it."

You brushed your fingertips over the bruises on his knuckles, again a million questions on your mind. You never knew why Mattheo wanted to keep the two of you a secret.

"You wanted to keep us a secret because you were ashamed of me because I'm in Hufflepuff?"

"What?" he said, clearly taken aback and confused by your words. His eyes finally met yours, "I wanted to keep us a secret because I'm ashamed of myself. Because how could I openly date you when you're so kind and pure and I'm me. Look at me. I got into a fight with two people just because they're your friends. I'm not right for you, y/n. I'm not what you deserve, I'm violent and aggressive."

"Mattheo? Stop it. Don't talk about yourself like that, please. I'm with you because I like you for you and I want to be with you. I don't see you the way you see yourself. This whole time, I thought you wanted us to be a secret because you were embarrassed to be dating me and didn't want your friends to see."

"Fuck my friends."

You laughed softly at him, "I wish you had just said this to me, everything could have been avoided."

"I know," he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, "I'm not good with words."

"Theodore said."

"You spoke to Nott?"

"He told me you told Malfoy you'd break his face if he spoke to me again."

"I will. I'm so sorry angel for not defending you, I should have punched Malfoy right then and there."

"Maybe not so much physical violence."

"I'll work on it. But I messed up so much y/n, I don't know how to make this up to you. I shouldn't have let you think for one minute that I was ashamed of you. How could I be. You're beautiful inside and out, like an angel. You're too pure for this world, for me."

You smiled away at his words and his actions as he brought up a bruised hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. Leaning into press a kiss on your forehead.

"I'm perfect for you as you are for me. You can make it up to me by apologising to Smith and Cadwallader and then finally taking me on a proper date."

"Fine, I'll apologise to Smith, I know he's your friend, but absolutely not to Cadwallader, he wanted to ask my girlfriend out."

"He didn't know I was your girlfriend." you pointed out.

"Don't give a fuck, I'll make everyone aware now. But yes, I will take you on a date. I've never been on a date before, but I'll do some research."

You giggled at his words, leaning into press a kiss onto his lips. You wrapped your hands around his neck, going into deepen the kiss but his groans from beneath stopped you.

"Sorry did I hurt you."

"No, no," he shook his head, but the look of pain on his face said otherwise. You got up from the floor, holding a hand out for him to take.

He took it and again leaned into press a kiss onto your forehead when he stood up to tower of you.

You looked up at him with wide eyes as he brought up a calloused hand to caress your cheek. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

You smiled sweetly at him as you rubbed the blood of his lips, "You can stare at my beautiful eyes as much as you want after we visit Madam Pomfrey."

"Can't wait my love."

"My love? That's a new one, I like it."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "It's the truth. You are my love. I love you."

And just then, you wanted to melt into his chest. You leaned up to press a soft peck, before replying, "I love you too."

"Don't think anyone has ever loved me before."

"They're missing out on so much, but at least this way I have you all to myself. Loving you is so easy when you're not being a jealous ass."

"Hah, I deserved that. Of course, princess, I'm all yours. Come with me to the hospital wing."

Hand in hand, you both left the locker room, making your way through the castle to the hospital wing. You received a few shocked looks from classmates, but one look from Mattheo, and they instantly turned away. You laughed at this, happy to see the effect of your scary boyfriend.

Both Smith and Cadwallader were in the hospital wing, getting treated for their various cuts and bruises. You couldn't see from afar before, but Riddle really laid into them.

You turned to Mattheo, nodding in their direction. He rolled his eyes but eventually made his way over to them.

"I really don't want to y/n, I've never apologised for a fight." he said on the way over.

"You can start now."

Upon seeing Riddle, both Hufflepuff players instantly sat up, though both looked incredibly surprised to see your hand locked with the Slytherin boys.

"Hi. So I'm sorry, Smith, for picking a fight with you. My girlfriend likes you, so I guess you're alright. I'm not sorry to you though Cadwallader, you wanted to ask my girlfriend out."

Neither one of the boys replied, only stared with their mouths agape.

"Well?" Riddle asked almost threateningly.

"Babe that's not really an apology."

"It's the best they're getting from me." he shrugged before going to sit on a spare bed waiting patiently for Madame Pomfrey.

"Sorry about him." you smiled.

"Its ok y/n, just a bit shocked you're dating."

You nodded and explained how the relationship began.

"I'm happy for you y/n, you deserve a boy who'd kill for you. Preferably not us but oh well." Zacharias eventually said.

"Yeah, y/n, please tell him I'm really sorry for saying I'd ask you out, jheez I had no idea."

"No, it's fine really, how could you have known."

You said your byes and made your way back to Mattheo, who was getting treated by Madam Pomfrey. Upon seeing you, he smiled and opened up the duvet, making way for you.

"You can stay till visiting hours are over." warned Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry again y/n." he whispered once she left.

"Don't be," you said as you turned to rest your head on his chest, "I just wish you would have told me."

He brought up a hand to play with your hair.

"I know, princess, you're mine, dont know why I'd wanna keep that a secret."

"At least Snape will go easier on me now if he knows I'm dating a slytherin."

Mattheo laughed, "You're using me now for connections. Don't worry, my love, everyone will know we're dating, I'll scream it in the courtyard if you want me to."

"That'd be nice."

#mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter masterlist #harry potter fluff #theodore nott #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin #slytherin imagines

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

From love and life

a/n I feel like we might need some good old fluffy fluff with a tiny bit of angst. So enjoy! Any sort of interaction is so so so appreciated!🤍🫧

summary: you're heavily pregnant but your medical assistant is needed in a close by town. Emotions run high and a little someone decides to make an appearance, just the timing is not ideal.

Can be read as a part two to A slice of paradise but this is a standalone

warnings: pregnancy, birth descriptions, complicated delivery, blood, yeah...

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The kitchen was dim. The only source of light was the lamp that stood in the living room. The record player lightly filled the space with old tunes as you and Joel swayed in the middle of the kitchen. It was such a rear moment lately. There was so much going on that you two hardly spent time together. Well, now that Joel was refusing to do patrol, he was way more present and even more nagging on your pregnancy brain. Even if it came from the love that he felt for you and the baby, you wish he worried less. But then again, it was easier said than done.

Your arms were lazily draped over your lover's shoulders, head nestled into his chest. Joel's grip on your body was tender. Wearier of you falling by accident, so one of his hands was firmly supporting your back, the other lovingly cupping the side of your bump. As if he were including the babe in your little nighty dance as well. Humming the tune as you two twisted and turned. There was so much love at this moment. So much attentiveness. So much reassurance. That you were in this together. That evening was going to be okay.

Even in Jackson, it was scary to bring a baby into this world. It felt so fragile. In the beginning, it made you feel selfish that you even considered conceiving in circumstances like this. But then there was nothing more that you wanted. You wanted to make Joel a father again. Even if Ellie was your baby girl as it was. You just wanted to give him a chance to raise another one. Because you knew that the fatherly love that he had was endless.

"Sofie?", Joel muttered into the nothingness of the room, and you peeled your head off his chest, shaking your head, "No, no, that's what my neighbor back in Texas was called; she was a.. well, a whore". Joel chuckled slightly and said, "Okay, Sofie gets the chop then". This had been going on for some time now. You two didn't fuss about names at the beginning, but now that you could go into labor in a matter of days, it had become quite a headache. Ellie had presented you with lists of names for both genders. She was excited to become a sister. Well, when her doubts about actually being a part of this family didn't cloud her mind. In all honesty, Ellie's reaction to the news was way more positive than you imagined it to be. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she was suddenly losing her rights as your and Joel's daughter.

"What about Margo?", Joel said, hands resting on your sides now, as you two continued to sway. Something in your stomach almost flusters at the sound of that, and that sensation was quickly followed by a strong kick. Joel's face quickly turned into a pleased smirk. You opened your mouth, but Joel only shook his head, "You don't even have to answer darling, our baby girl agrees," you rolled your eyes at him, "You don't even know if it's a girl," "I do she just picked her name". His hands moved to lift the shirt you were wearing. One of Joel's shirts. Both for comfort and also because it smelled like him—that's what you told Joel when he first saw you in it. Plus, at this point, almost nothing fitted you. And not all occasions were fitting for a flowy dress, even if it made the bump look adorable.

Joel's tender findings rubbed your big bump, "You're a smart little one. You like Margo, Margo Miller, huh?" Joel's attention was fully on the baby now. A baby who was happily kicking inside your tummy. A baby that mostly only kicked for Joel. Already daddy's girl or boy. The bond they built was mind-blowing to you. But then again it didn't surprise you. Joel was by your side as much as he could. He talked, sang, and read stories to the bump almost every night. Not a morning was missed without kisses. This was another source of the proposal for Joel.

"Hate to interrupt you both, but I need a snack", you mumbled, brushing some of the hair from Joel's forehead away, "You are free to continue this upstairs, and you'll be much cozier in bed; bending like that will do a number on your back". Joel looked up at you, pretending to be utterly offended by your words, "Are you calling me old?", "I'm calling it snack break that leads to bed break", you gave him a bright smile before turning to search for a jar of pickles. Joel watched you happily munching, a proud smile on his face.

You were wobbling around the kitchen, adding refills of eggs and pancakes to Ellie's plate, when you heard a knock on the door. Joel was quick to move the chair, but you placed a hand on his shoulder, mumbling a quick I got this before moving towards it. "Tommy?", it came out more surprised than it should have, but then again, he rarely came by so early and in the middle of the week as well. The younger Miller glanced towards Joel. Swallowing worriedly, you could feel a sense of dread there. "Did something happen?", you asked, moving to rest your hand on his upper arm. Tommy exhaled carefully, "You might want to kill me, but let me…", "Get to it", Joel said firmly, not breaking eye contact with his brother. "There's an emergency in the nearby town. They don't have a medic good enough", Tommy's eyes were on you now, but Joel cut in firmly, "No".

You speared him no mind though, asking, "What happened?". You had been a medic before the outbreak. It had always been your passion, not just a job. So even the fact that the world fell apart didn't stop you from wanting to help those in need. "I'm not sure, but it's a boy, and he's five at best", he continued, but Joel shook his head. "Don't try to guilt-trip her", "Joel", you warned your lover firmly. "I'm not, but you don't have to; maybe you could just talk to them on the radio?" This had to be serious if Tommy was here in the first place. And the look on his face clearly showed that the morning hasn't been easy for him.

"Get the horses ready", you said softly, "Over my dead body are you riding", Joel was up and walking towards you now. "Rode, you just the other night didn't seem to complain then", you bit back, shooting him an angry look. Ellie snorted while keeping her head down, trying not to catch too much attention, but Joel's glare still landed on her. Messing with Joel in moments like this was dangerous. This man loved his family more than he loved his life. Nothing could stand in his way. And the one who tried never survived long.

"Y/N", he said firmly, "Joel", you repeated the manner. "You're eight months pregnant; this is out of the question", he tried to reason, but in the same way as him, you were stubborn. And if you set your mind on something, making you back away was almost impossible. "You are free to stay, old man", turning to Tommy, you nodded quickly, "Go, get them ready for me, will ya?". Tommy nodded and wasted no time as he slipped out of the house. He knew that Joel's scolding would come sooner or later, but for now, he was thankful to be off the hook.

"Love", Joel's tone was smoother and calm now, as he reached for your arms. You understood his worries, and yes, you were close to giving birth, but the ride was not that long, and you felt just fine. "Joel, I ain't leaving that kid to die", His jaw tightened as he searched your eyes. Now silently pleading for you to skip this one. "You're coming along or staying here?", Joel just shook his head, still frustrated, but he said nothing. Moving towards the stairs to pack a light backpack You knew the frustration would wear off eventually. With time.

"Can I join?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. "If you want to", you told her. The area was safe and closely monitored. The trade roads were extremely important. At times, exchanging supplies was a crucial part of surviving. "Cool family trip! Like the old days", Ellie chirped. You couldn't help but crack a smile at it. It was quite a trip you all had. Coming to Jackson wasn't easy. It seemed like forever ago now. Yet the incidents lingered in the back of your mind. It still felt too good at times. Well, even the fact that you were pregnant now was a clear indication of how everything had changed. Back in QZ you and Joel were extremely careful. To get pregnant, there was a way to end up in a grave. Here in Jackson, however, it was more than possible.

The boy had an open fracture in his shoulder. A lucky one. An inch lower, and it would have pierced his heart. He was in a critical condition when you got there, but you didn't let your mind slip even for a second. Calm and collected. Not the slightest shake of your fingers. Only when he was laying in between the clean sheets did you let your mind slip, hand resting on your bump as you watched his chest move up and down. The sound of his mother's cries still swirling in your brain. How easy was it to lose someone you loved? Didn't need to be infected even. Anything could happen.

A hand that slipped on your shoulder made you jump. You turned to your side upon seeing Joel there. Your body instantly eased. Joel was scared the whole time you were in the operating room. He didn't move from the little window. Eyes watching you as you worked. Every minute that you stayed up on your feet made him more and more tense. This wasn't okay. You were too far along in your pregnancy to operate for three hours. Your body needed rest, not this. Only now did you realize how tired you were. But you couldn't show it. No, Joel would worry too much, and this was already far too much worrying for one day. So you squeezed his hand firmly before standing up.

You and Ellie were walking through the forest. Well, you were wobbling. Walking properly wasn't an option any longer. Joel was behind you both once again, keeping a close eye on you. You suggested you walked for a bit midway through the ride. Joel gave you a questionable look but nodded his head regardless. "So they just grow like this?", asked Ellie, looking at the bush that was covered in blueberries. You nodded your head, "They do. As a kid, I loved going into the forest to pick berries". It's been quite sometime now that she was a part of your life, but no matter how many stories you told her, Ellie still found things that surprised her.

You encouraged her to reach for the berry. Watching as her eyes gaped as the sweet taste hit her tongue. "Can we get some and make a pie or something?", she asked as she reached for another handful. You smiled at her softly, "Of course we ca-ahh,", you crunched forward. Bracing yourself on the tree that was by your side. Joel's steps picked up as he moved closer to you. Ellie's big eyes watched you. "Mom,", she asked worriedly, even if the tight look on your face eased. Joel's fingers wrapped around your forearms, steadying you. "It's nothing, guys; no one needs to worry", you said. Cupping the material of the long fabric beneath your bump for extra support. "You should sit down for a minute", Joel looked around, trying to find a place for you to rest somewhat comfortably.

"There's no need", you tried to sound calm, but another wave of pain hit you, making you grip Joel's hands. Ellie looked at Joel now. Worry seeped through her because even if she knew little about things like this, it didn't seem like nothing to her. "Y/N…", Joel rasped out himself, trying to undress what was happening. But you knew this wasn't nothing. Because you began to feel strange the moment you arrived in the nearby town. Then the pain picked up during the operation, but you were able to breathe through it. It didn't bother you all too much. You were sure you were good once it eased, but then you couldn't seem to sit on the horse as the pressure and pain increased. You knew this was something more.

"Don't get mad", you said through gritted teeth as the pain slowly eased, "I just… I felt", but it seemed like your baby was more than eager to do the speaking for itself as a warm trickle of liquid started to slowly trail down your legs. The material of your dress dampened. Another breathy exhale caught in your throat as you hissed. Joel moved an arm around your middle, "I fucking told you, shit", "Don't be like that", Ellie warned him quickly. Stress was not what you needed now, yet Joel didn't budge, "Like what? We're in the middle of the woods, and Y/N's water just broke". "Joel," you cried out in pain once more, both hands holding onto your tight stomach as even more liquid rushed down your legs.

"Fuck okay, come here", Joel told you, but you didn't want him to pick you up. "Dad ", Ellie rasped out, "It's okay, everything's okay, we'll figure this out". Joel wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had to. Someone had to. "Can you sit on a horse?", he questioned, but you shook your head straight away. His mind was blanking out for him. Heart racing. This was not how you were supposed to give birth. "I saw a cabin on the way here. It… was just over the valley", Ellie spoke up again, Joel nodded his head. This was the best chance you had because there was no way he was getting you to Jackson in time, "Lead the way, kiddo".

Joel lowered you just by the patio. He needed to go in first and make sure there was no one there. No infected, no raiders. That it was safe. Ellie felt like she was going to grow gray as she watched you grip the railing. She had seen Joe getting stabbed; she had been through so much shit. Put bullets through people's heads, but somehow nothing compares to this and the fear of losing you. "Hey, look at me", you caught Ellie's hand, "It's going to be okay", you rubbed your finger over her palm. "But what if you or the baby… we have no proper…", she rambled on, "Ellie, darling, it's okay". You could only imagine how scary this seemed to her. Considering that she had never seen anyone in a position like this.

"Your sibling is just slightly more excited to meet you", you chuckled slightly, and a little smile broke onto her face as well. "I'd rather she stayed in your stomach till we returned". You hummed at her words, "Funny thing about babies is they don't listen". She breathed with you through the next contraction. Doing and saying the things that she heard Joel say while you were making your way here. "Mom?", Ellie questioned once more as your face eased, "Everything will be okay, right?", you gave her the best smile you could manage, "Of course, babe."

But everything was far from being great. Joel had pulled an old mattress from the other room and placed it next to the fire that was burning in the fireplace. Ellie was anxiously changing the cold, wet cloth on your forehead as you panted rapidly, holding onto Joel's hand. They both felt helpless. Not sure how to soothe or help. The pain was evident on your face, and if at the start you could still speak between the sharp shooting daggers that ripped through you, now it seemed that you barely managed to even take a breath in between them.

Joel moved so he was kneeling between your parted legs. "Breath, love, you need to take proper breaths", his hand moved up and down your thigh, "Remember how we practiced?", you weakly nodded your head, "Of course you do, you're a trooper", "You need to check me," your hand moved towards your thigh. Joel shrugged off his jacket, quickly rolling up his sleeves. You probably would have told him how good he looked like this. But unfortunately for you, the pain was now the center of your consciousness. Joel gave you one more look as if he was asking for permission, and his hand slipped between your legs. "I feel it. I feel the head", he said firmly, and you nodded your head.

The progress was slow, or more like there was none. Your breathing grew more and more labored, yet no matter how much you pushed, it seemed to lead you nowhere, and the energy was slowly starting to leave your body. "Something isn't right", you muttered after another wave had eased. You had started to shake slightly. "What do you mean?", Joel asked you worryingly. Suddenly it all becomes awfully real to Joel. You could easily die. This could easily lead to him to losing you both. And with the amount of blood on the white material… Joel didn't need to have a medical education to know that this wasn't right.

"Tell me what to do", he tried to meet your eyes, but they seemed frantic. The panic was more than discouraging. No, Joel wasn't going to lose you both. That wasn't an option. "Y/N, look at me," he said as he moved closer to you, "We're going to do this". Joel turned to Ellie briefly, "You think you could find your way back to Jackson, kiddo?" Ellie nodded her head rapidly. She had helped as much as she could. Joel tried to keep her away from the blood, but he could do nothing about the screams and clear agony that you were in. "Okay, you need to go get the midwife and Tommy here", Ellie only managed to nod again. She was shaky and scared. But then again, in the same way as Joel, she couldn't lose you. With one last look at you, Ellie darted out, nearly falling off the stairs as she reached for the horse.

"Help me up. The gravity….", you muttered. Joel reached for your hands, pulling you up, before moving to stand against your back. You were all covered in sweat. Your lower half was drenched. You could feel the blood drying on your thighs and cracking as you moved. Please, you thought to yourself. If this went on any further, you were going to faint. Your body felt heavy. You could barely hold onto your knees as you pushed.

"I don't think I can…", you whispered, once Joel helped you to your knees. "Of course, you can", Joel said firmly, but you still shook your head, "This is my fault". But this time Joel cupped your face, making you look at him, "We're bringing this baby into the world, and you two will be just fine. I've got you. I'm with you. I believe in you" he said, leaning his forehead onto your damp one. Joel took a moment to breathe. You needed him to be strong now. He needed to be your rock.

You pushed and pushed, and minutes melted into what felt like endless nothingness. Joel's voice guided you through it all. You had no clue how he managed it, but he was holding onto one of your legs, giving you extra support to press onto something as you pushed. While the other occasionally slipped behind you, to help you push up. "Come on, one more, mama. One more", Joel's hand rested behind the infant's head as he looked back up at you, "Give me one big one, and we'll be a family of four". You did just that. With a deep breath, you pushed with all that you had left. Yet another scream ripped past your lips, and the pressure suddenly eased as your head fell back onto the mattress.

Joel quickly pulled the baby up as the loudest cry filled the living room. He couldn't help a smile; he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. Joel reached for his jacket, quickly wrapping the babe in it, and rocking it gently. "Hello, gorgeous, look at your cries", he cooed at the newest Miller for a moment before his eyes moved up to look at your tired face that was now covered in tears as well. "So…", you trailed off as Joel leaned over to you so he could rest the baby on your chest. "Dad had a good intuition", he teased, and you felt another wave of tears coming. "A girl", you muttered, looking down at the pruny baby in your arms. "Oh, you sweet angel", your finger carefully traced her cheek, "As stubborn as her mom too". Joel moved behind you, making sure that you were comfortable as you rested against his chest. "She has your eyes", you muttered, looking up at your lover, who looked down at you lovingly. "Can you believe that we made her?", he asked. You shook your head, "I'm still mortified that this is a dream".

The sudden noises outside made you both perk up. Joel reached for the gun, pointing it straight at the door. Just as breathless Ellie fell into the room. Behind her, a dark-haired lady rushed into the living room. Smiling at the sight of the baby bundled up in your arms, "Look at you three, good job, and congratulations". Lydia was the main midwife in Jackson. She cupped your cheeks, stealing a glance at the baby before moving to look at the mattress.

"Check her first, Lydia,", you asked her, but the lady only shook her head, "No, darling girl, you're still bleeding, and the baby with lungs like that is more than healthy". You wanted to argue, but the chaos of the room suddenly made you feel dizzy. Your mouth went dry. "You two, baby, and Ellie, out of the room now", the midwife pointed quickly to the two Miller brothers. "What's going on?", Joel asked, yet no one answered him as Lydia pulled your body up and away from Joel. Only now did Joel see how pale you were. But Maria placed the baby into his arms before pushing them all out of the room.

Joel's worries didn't die. They were clouding his brain. You were fine just a moment ago. You talked and… But then he saw Ellie's big eyes searching the room. She looked so small. So lost and so scared. "El", Joel called out lovingly, making her snap her head towards him, "Want to see your sister?". A long-lost sparkle gleamed in Ellie's eyes. "A girl?", she muttered under her breath. "Margo. Unless your mom changes her mind", Ellie stepped closer, careful as ever. As if too big a step might harm the baby somehow. Her hands stayed by her side as she looked at the baby in Joel's arms. "She needs a bath", Ellie muttered, Joel laughed slightly, "Yeah, we can give her one after", she nodded, her eyes never leaving the infant.

"Can I… I don't have to", she trailed off, "Come here, make sure you support her head", Joel made room on the rundown sofa that was in the room they were rushing into. Ellie's arms were stiff. She stopped her breathing for a moment. "She's so tiny… Hi", the baby grasped onto her finger, making Ellie look up at Joel as if she was asking if this was okay, but he only smiled at her. "You reckon she knows who I am?", Ellie asked. Joel leaned in to kiss the side of her head. "After all the dance parties you had and the cookies you made? I think you are already best friends". Ellie nodded her head in approval, yet her eyes darted to the door and asked, "And mom?".

Here was where Joel didn't know what to say. He wanted to reassure her but he couldn't. Because he didn't know what was going on. What if you were dead? A cold shiver ran down his back. No, you couldn't. His chest started to grow heavy all of a sudden. But the door swung open, and Joel had stood up at lightning speed. "Lydia,", he called out, bracing himself for the worst, but the old lady just gave him a warm smile. "She lost a bit more blood, but everything is okay. She's all cleaned up; you three should head to her", Joel practically sank to the floor as those words filled his mind. Whoever was guarding him was working overtime. He turned to Ellie, but she was already walking through the door with Margo in her hands. "You did a good job", Lydia squeezed Joel's hand, "Go have some family time with your girls".

Ellie was nestled by your side, silent tears falling down her cheeks as you held her close. Joel stepped in as quietly as he could, but his eyes instantly found yours. You gave him a weak smile. You knew he could tell just how tired you were. "I'm so outnumbered by females now," he said as he sat down by your other side. Moving your hand to his lips as he kissed it. He nudged Ellie slightly, feeling even more ease slip through his body as she giggled. "You're destined to be a girl, dad", you muttered, running your hand up and down the baby's back as she started to fuss.

"I think someone's hungry", you said, trying to get more comfortable. Joel instantly stood up so he could pull you up slightly, reaching for a spear blanket before putting it behind the makeshift pillow. The suckling noises filled the space within seconds, as Margo happily latched on. Her tiny fist flexed in the air. Ellie instantly moved her finger for Margo to grasp; her tiny fingers wrapped around it, and her fussing eased as she ate.

Joel just watched you three, his hand resting on your thigh. This was both the scariest and most beautiful experience ever. He got to bring his baby girl into the world. He had missed Sarah's birth back then. Only got to see her wrapped up in a pink blanket hours later. It had eaten at him for years. He knew he wanted to be here this time. There was no doubt, and now, after everything, he thought that it couldn't have been more perfect.

"You're okay?", your fingers squeezed his thigh gently, making him turn to you. "Yeah, just thinking about how perfect you are and how much I love you all", you couldn't help but smile, mumbling a quick I love you back to him. It was Ellie who was struck by those words the most. She knew that you both loved her. You had told her that many times, but Joel had never directly spoken about it. "I love you all as well", she mumbled back. Joel glanced at her as he reached for her hand.

"You reckon we could all fit on this", you spoke up after a minute, already starting to feel tired again. "I take the left side", Ellie said quickly, once again moving closer to you. "Who said we're allowed to call dibs", Joel questioned teasingly. "You snooze, you lose", she stuck out her tongue as you brushed some of the hair away from her face. "There's plenty of space for everyone to get a cuddle", you said softly as Joel slipped behind you, your body melted into his tender chest. One of his hands sneaked behind yours so he could support Margo, who was still feasting. Joel pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Life had both taken away from him, but then gave him so much more. His other hand rested on Ellie's back protectively. This was both empowering and crippling at the same time. Between Joel's arms was his whole world. World that was made up of you three. His biggest treasure. His most prized possession.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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livwritesstuff · 1 month

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you know that feeling where you’re having a god-awful day and all you really want is a hug but you’re at work so, like, that’s not gonna happen, and you basically just have to stew in all those shitty feelings and wait out the clock? yeah, me too, that’s kind of where this came from.

Eddie had a tough day.

It had started early that morning when the girls missed their school bus – not a huge deal, honestly, he was already gonna be leaving early to go get his car looked at.

But then he got shitty news from the mechanic, and then a meeting with his agent didn’t go the way he’d wanted at all, and then Hazel ended up being a total pain in the ass after he picked her up from kindergarten, and during her relentless haranguing, she knocked one of Eddie’s favorite mugs off the counter. It shattered, obviously, and she cried about it so he’d had to deal with both of those things at once, and it was just a day.

None of it was anything he couldn’t handle – the problem was the compounding nature of it and the way he basically just had to stew in it all until the next obstacle came along and made shit even worse.

All Eddie really wanted was Steve, and how Steve being around made dealing with this stuff so much easier, even if every other circumstance was the same.

He has to share Steve, though, and today he’s sharing him with Steve’s work until four o’clock.

It’s fine.

He can wait until four.

The older two girls got off their bus at half-past three, and, seriously, someone must have put something in the water this morning because they are in rare goddamn form today. If Hazel alone was bad, all three of them together were…well, thrice that. It’s like the universe said I see your bad day and I raise you three elementary schoolers hitting their peak annoyance thresholds simultaneously.

And it’s not like Eddie can even fucking fold, either.

It’s cold and kind of windy outside, which is Eddie’s least favorite weather and he’d thought maybe the girls would want to go right inside, but no. Of course they want to dig out the chalk that got stashed away in the garage last fall, and while Eddie is stuck shivering outside breaking up dumb arguments about who’s allowed to use which colors (he figured the answer was an obvious everyone, but apparently that’s incorrect), Steve leaves a message saying he tacked on an emergency session onto the end of his day and now he’s not out until five.

Eddie doesn’t hear it until he’s back inside, obviously, but when he does it’s like someone ran a whole fucking dagger through his chest.

He’s halfway through making dinner when Steve gets home (he’d actually be done making dinner if the pot of water hadn’t boiled off while he’d dealt with yet another stupid argument), and he drops everything to meet him at the door.

It’s like Steve can tell in an instant the kind of day Eddie had.

“What happened?” he asks as he toes off his shoes.

Eddie shakes his head, “Everything…nothing…I don’t even know. Just…one of those days.”

Steve nods his understanding, and as soon as he’s got his coat hung up he’s pulling Eddie into a hug.

It ends up being kind of a bone-crushing one — that’s on Eddie, though. He’d just fucking needed it. He knows he’d needed it when Steve’s arms tighten around his shoulders and he feels that much better.

“You okay?” Steve asks without letting him go, the breath of his words hitting warm against Eddie’s neck.

“Just tired,” he answers.

Steve pulls away.

“You can take a break, Ed,” he says, and there’s something in his eyes – not concern, exactly, but more like awareness, “I’ll be up in a bit.”

Eddie just nods and heads for the stairs. As he goes, he faintly hears Steve asking, “What the hell did you guys do to Dad today?”, followed by the girls’ defensive protests.

In their room, Eddie makes it through one full rerun of Star Trek and then the first few minutes of a second before Steve joins him.

He notices that it’s quiet downstairs for the first time that evening, and he tries not to take it too personally. He’s always been comfortable in the knowledge that Steve might be better at the whole parenting thing than him (psych degrees and all that), but, shit, if he’s that much better…

“What’d you do, strangle them?” Eddie asks as Steve swaps his jeans out for a pair of faded plaid pajama pants.

“No, I told them that if I hear a single peep in the next hour I’m beheading all their stuffed animals.”

Eddie blinks.

Okay, maybe better isn’t exactly the right word.

“So they’re on verbal lockdown, basically,” Steve finishes.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, “You’re kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you were always gonna rub off on me one of these days — don’t.”

And Eddie couldn’t help the way he threw his head back and laughed.

#idk steve is just eddie's person #he gets him -- all the way down to his ear for a dirty joke #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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eamour · 8 months

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manifestation rules

everybody has a different set of beliefs when it comes to manifesting, determining their journey. some believe that nothing unfavourable can manifest for them, some believe that they can get whatever they want even if they react to their outer reality, ... whatever you choose to believe in creates the basis for the way you go about manifesting your desires. therefore, it's always nice to make manifesting easier and more effortless by sticking to certain rules that can protect, guide and make you feel more at ease while manifesting a certain desire.

applying the rules

it's totally up to you: you can make all of these your new rules or just pick a few new ones that resonate with you the most. the way you make these rules "work" is by simply declaring that this is now your new way of manifesting! don't worry, you don't have to learn them all by heart but remind yourself of them in times of manifesting. it's the most affective when you don't overcomplicate it!

here are the rules

whatever i want, wants me more

everything conspires in my favour

i am the only creator in my reality

the world revolves around me

i’m the main character and always get my happy ending

i am destined to win and succeed

everything is rigged in my favour

i easily manifest

manifesting is very easy for me

it’s all in my command and under my control

i am in charge of pretty much everything

there’s only one operant power and that’s me

i always get everything i want in my life

i was made to rule both dimensions

everything always falls into place for me

it all perfectly works out for me

i never chase, i attract

everything i want is easily given to me

i have it all

i’m a master manifestor

i’m a pro at manifesting

whatever i desire is already mine

i’m the blueprint

i’m way too perfect not to have it all

all of my desires are meant for me

i effortlessly manifest the life of my dreams

everything is always about me

i am the prize, everything chases me

i decide what happens next

i am the god of my reality

i’m the master of my destiny

my desires are done deal

everything is mine for the taking

i have my desires simply because i say so

as the god of my reality, it is my right to have everything i want

i get everything i desire since everything i say, goes

life is a game and i keep winning

i never fail to get what i want

it’s impossible for me to fail

not getting what i wish for isn’t possible

“failure” doesn’t exist in my life

others might not succeed but that doesn't go for me

i manifest quickly, effortlessly and instantly

my desires materialise very fast

i always get whatever i want whenever i want it

everything i want is being handed to me instantly

whatever i desire is mine in the very moment

i get whatever i want as soon as possible

i manifest regardless of everything and anything

there is no such thing as “impossible”, “illogical” or “unlikely” to manifest

circumstances don’t matter

the outside world doesn't affect me in any way

nothing can hinder my manifestation process

i cannot not get my desire

no one can stop me from attaining the life i want

the 3D immediately conforms

everything always works out perfectly for me

i am limitless

my abilities are infinite

anything is totally malleable

i can change reality to my liking

the world only shows me what i wish to see

i mould my own world

in imagination, i have it all

regardless of any circumstances, i get whatever i like

intrusive thoughts, doubts or worries cannot influence my manifestations

the 3D quickly reflects my desires

my outer world shows me my inner world

negativity doesn’t exist for me

i am protected from anything undesirable

unfavourable thoughts never manifest for me

with love, ella.

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vrisrezis · 11 months

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Love triangle?? With atsv characters

Basically a love triangle between them, their spider alter ego and you … ?

Gwen has been longtime best friends with you and Peter for what feels like forever. Even after peters passing, you and Gwen remained close. Throughout the years, it was only natural for gwen to fall for you, her best friend. Peter had often encouraged her to try and go for it, but she never gave in to the temptation. Not when she has been lying to you for so long about who she really was. While her dad did often speak his mind on the mysterious spiderwoman and his doubts, you always seemed excited talking about her. It didn’t take long for her to find out you were not only a huge fan, but definitely had a bit of a crush.

This was amusing to her, obviously. But it also made her wonder if you felt nothing for the real her, and you just liked some alter ego of hers because she was cool and saved the day or whatever.

How you and spiderwoman met, was not under the best of circumstances. As you can imagine.

Growing up, you were always pretty tough. Fighting for and defending Peter against bullies, it was what drawn gwen to you right away. You always stood up for others, and perhaps in the real world it’d get you in more trouble, trying to help a defenses old man against some mugger, you nearly got real hurt in the process. Thankfully, your celebrity crush was there to web him up.

She remembers the look you gave her, you were so.. awestruck.

You never looked at her like that. Not the real her, anyway.

“Thank you spiderwoman!” you say with glee, a word she would almost never use to describe you.

She clears her throat, seeming off guard by the way you greeted her. Or perhaps she was caught off guard by how beautiful you looked in the moonlight. Is it hot outside or is it just her suit?

“Uh… uh…” she hesitates for a moment, before displaying faux confidence. She nods in understanding, “anytime, hopefully next time I’ll see you under better circumstances, cutie.” she says with a wink, before swinging away.

There’s practically hearts in your eyes, did spider woman… just flirt with you?!

Meanwhile, gwen is freaking the hell out over the fact she just said that. It’s certainly easier to flirt under the mask, she supposes.

You didn’t shut up about spiderwoman for the next week.

Miles was one of your best friends, had been for over a year now. Although this friendship, to many seemed newly found, to you both it felt like you knew eachother forever. You often ignored how Ganke never failed to mention that’s something people in love say about eachother.

Ganke was a close friend to the both of you. He was also very much aware of how miles was keeping this huge secret from you, and he often relayed to miles how he should just tell you already. Miles said no, everytime. So ganke had to resort to desperate measures, on one of your many hangouts with the two males.

“Hey, I’m curious.” Ganke starts, “what do you think of Spiderman?”

Miles nearly chokes, he looks wide eyed at ganke, as if ganke just killed a cat. Honestly, ganke is surprised miles hadn’t brought up Spiderman to you himself before, but honestly miles was terrified of what you actually thought, to the point he didn’t want it mentioned at all in front of you.

But your immediate grin makes miles almost audibly sigh.

“I think he’s awesome! Way cooler than the other one to be honest like wow have you seen that suit? Nice color.” Miles couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up in excitement. How come he hasn’t heard you talk about spiderman before if you liked him so much?

“Hey, miles?”

“Huh?!” he yells, his voice becoming so high pitched it sounded like he was just hitting puberty, making you laugh.

“I- I mean.. yeah… what’s up?”

“Do you think he’s … cute?” you ask, rather curious what miles thinks of spiderman.

Ganke almost laughs at how wide miles eyes are, somehow even wider than before.

You would eventually have the chance to meet spiderman, which was not something miles would be happy about. A fight with a particularly … tough villain had caused much damage to the city. Miles swears, today he had to pull up at least 3 buses by his webs.

However, the bus you were in, as plain as day. He couldn’t see anyone but you, the other people in the bus being a blur to him.

He was scared, so so so scared. The moment you’re out and safe, he wants to hug you. He almost does, but he’s able to restrain himself once he feels gwen tug his arm, warning him of how weird that’d be.

He sighs, but he sees you smile at him, grateful. He’s blissfully unaware of how hot your cheeks are, seeing him in the flesh, in person.

You wonder if he’d be okay with signing an autograph.

Hobie was never the type for being subtle. He was blunt, but because of his casualness about it people do not take what he says seriously. He didn’t plan on making a strong effort to hide being spiderman from you. Because he trusts you, with his life in fact.

You two have fought together on many different occasions, way before he became spiderman. People didn’t like either of you, when you were young at least. Strong and unafraid, and like him, you often spoke your mind about things. Granted, you were a lot nicer about it but still. It’s something he definitely likes about you. To him, falling for you just felt natural. Like it was meant to happen. Like falling for you was second nature.

But over his time of becoming spiderman, he had … well… found out you had a major crush on his alter ego. You did not shut up about how “babygirl” he was. And while this was amusing at first, it annoyed him a little. Did that mean you weren’t interested in him, as hobie, romantically? And if you did find out who he really was, would you still like spiderman? Or would it ruin the imagination for you? And if you did, would it only be because he’s spiderman?

A lot of questions circle his mind, a lot of worry and it isn’t like him. He really hates it. Only you can manage to do that to him.

Eventually, the two of you do end up meeting.

You were known for being a fighter, laws or not, you didn’t care, maybe a bit headstrong in your beliefs. Maybe you got too caught up in things, as you often did. Difference was, hobie was not there to back you up. As he often was.

Not this time though, as apparently Hobie had some unfinished business to deal with. You had no idea what that meant, but you trusted hobie enough that he wouldn’t go off doing something stupid without you.

You were not hobie however, and did something stupid without him.

While yes, the guy had harassed you first and you had every right to be angry with him, you probably shouldn’t have provoked such a big and muscular looking guy. There’s no way you could take him in a fight, but you could always try.

Before you even had the gall to fight this guy, before he can even pull the first punch, webs are shot his way. You gasp in surprise, turning behind you to see the one and only.

His movements are quick, and honestly, spiderman struggles for a little.

If even he struggled during that fight, you didn’t stand a chance. But you’re too busy absolutely fangirl/boy/theythem’ing to even care.

Once everything was said and done, Spiderman turned around to take a look at you. He was relieved you weren’t banged up or anything, though you couldn’t tell. “You aight?” he asked, and typically he was so cool and collected, but around you he had no idea how he should be acting. Thoughts from before still clouding his mind:

He lets them go for a moment upon your excited squeal and has to hold himself back from laughing.

Pavitr mentioned spiderman quite a bit, and very early on when he first became the masked vigilante. He was quick to gauge your opinions, because in his mind you’re thoughts and feelings matter the most to him.

He would quickly learn you loved the guy, so he proudly continued doing the whole superhero thing. However, as time went by he had seen your admiration for Spiderman develop into a crush. Only upon your first meeting with him, though. He couldn’t blame you, he supposed that in your eyes this guy saved your life from imminent peril. In his eyes, he was just doing something that was common sense. Saving you while you were trapped in that bus was not something he needed to think twice about.

And he certainly didn’t think twice about hugging you, either. Despite you two not really being acquainted with one another. He was quick to come to his senses, about to pull away, but you held on. And he realized you needed this hug as much as he did. He combs his fingers through your hair, as if second nature. Just like he normally did, and he was the only one that ever did that. You didn’t seem to catch on in that state, but little did he know how grateful you were towards him. He could only imagine, but it was a fraction to how you truly felt.

“Thank you, spiderman.” You say with such softness in your voice, he’s never heard it from you before.

And from that point on, he did not stop hearing you gush about the arachnid. While he often laughed this off, he wondered if that meant things would be weird between you two if he told you the truth.

#spiderman x reader #spiderman india x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderwoman x reader #spidergwen x reader #gwen x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #atsv x reader

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strlingsav · 1 year

Text

Virtue

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon learns you're a virgin.

Requested: @ghostunderground76

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Simon had a knack for making you uncomfortable; not in a way that made your skin crawl, instead, he made you warm. Inside and out. Feverish with desire, lust growing like a weed in your gut, strangling and taking everything in its path hostage. You had a difficult time pretending he had no effect, no impact on your feelings, but you were easily given away by the pulse in your throat, the heat emanating off your cheeks.

He found it entertaining. Nothing more than a bit of banter between friends- unless you suggested otherwise, of course. He wasn't lying when he'd say your arse looked nice, or that your shirt was pretty much useless with the amount of cleavage showing. He liked watching your lips part in shock, the doe-eyes you'd look up at him with. He couldn't help himself, and though you'd take everything he said with a grain of salt, he meant it.

You had an unintentional habit of making Simon uncomfortable too; licking your lips, letting your hand rest on his arm or shoulder, falling in closer to him to hear what he'd said. He knew you didn't know what you were doing, he could tell by the innocent expression of ignorance on your face when he'd mention it to you. It was why he liked teasing you so much, you'd always react in a way that aroused him.

He'd tried to keep his distance for a while, knowing if he kept at it he'd be in deeper than he was used to, but everything about you was impossible to ignore. He had a difficult time outright admitting to his feelings, finding the sexual innuendos and allusions to sex much easier to navigate. At a certain point, however, he realized he'd dug himself into a hole, unable to climb out no matter the circumstances.

You'd known each other for a couple years, finding friendship through the people you knew. But it wasn't viable anymore, not when Simon couldn't be in the same room as you without feeling suffocated by you. You were blinded by innocence, unaccustomed to men searching you out, showing blatant interest.

It wasn't until you were on his couch, your mutual friends having taken off already, that he realized he liked having you around- more than anyone else, instead of anyone else. He couldn't help but stare at the curves of your lips, your eyes, your bare thighs in the shorts he'd teased you for for being too short. You ignored him, though not without flushing and biting the inside of your cheek.

There was undeniable tension in the room. A stalemate between you as you stared at the movie playing on the TV screen. It was oddly domestic, sitting side by side, your knees knocking into each other, his arm around the couch, barely ghosting your shoulders. It was comfortable- enjoyable.

His head turned, and from your periphery you could see him staring you down. He waited for a few moments, until you turned to meet his gaze. He leaned in and kissed you. Soft, fleeting- then you chased after his mouth and found yourself straddling his waist.

Then, it was messy. Harsh and fevered. Your hands sliding around his neck, his finding your waist with a firm hold. Your hips moved slowly against his, unintentionally rocking over his groin as you dove further into his lips.

Your tongues slid together, finding each other between the opening of your lips. Your quiet moans were muffled against his face, exhales of relief fighting the growing urge to move a step further.

His hands lifted the hem of your shirt, tugging it up off your body. His attention fell to your breasts, his hands gliding up your sides to cup them with his hands, gentle squeezes coaxing a shiver from your core.

You searched his eyes for any hint of regret, but he only stared at you- a glassy veil of lust in his expression.

He could hardly stand it, having you in his lap, your body in his grasp. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, with such force he almost worried you could hear it. It nearly crawled up his throat, but instead, he choked out words that both aroused and shocked you.

"You torture me, y'know."

There was no derisiveness in his tone. Nothing to imply it was another instance of his teasing. It was simple, matter-of-fact; if you didn't know Simon the way you did, you would've believed it, wholeheartedly.

"Sorry?" You asked, an expression of amusement across your face.

"Y'heard me," He nodded.

"How so?" You grinned.

He wanted to move closer- to have you under him already, feeling every curve and dip of your body, but he held back.

"Been wantin' t'fuck you for a while," He stated, his eyes unwavering on yours. "Everythin' about you drives me fuckin' mad."

He had a hint of a smirk on his face- nearly camouflaged but you'd been watching closely. Your heart dropped to your stomach, still pounding harshly.

"You're an ass," You scoffed, turning away.

His hand reached out, gently hooking his fingers under your chin to guide you to his gaze again.

"I ain't bein' a prick," He said. "I mean it."

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat- another weed that managed to climb through you and take hold of your throat, your tongue. He was serious- and it made you freeze on his lap.

"Oh," You breathed out. "I didn't expect you to feel like that."

As if your pulse wasn't already high beyond the norm, it seemed to increase even more. You could feel the burning heat in your cheeks spread between your thighs, sparking an arousal that was familiar but had never been so strong.

He blinked slowly, his eyes falling to your lips before returning to your gawking eyes.

"You should," He said. "But I think you knew it already."

You shrugged softly, hardly noticeable.

"I guess, in a way."

"You gonna tell me you don't feel the same?"

Your brows lifted, quickly realizing you hadn't truly thought about having to reveal your feelings to him; that you wanted him so badly it ached- deep in your chest. You were apprehensive; your experience with love, relationships, men as a whole hadn't been entirely successful.

"I-I do," You paused, shutting your eyes as you deliberated within yourself. "Feel the same."

You wanted him. In every way. But explaining the circumstances of your hesitation was mortifying. He wouldn't understand, likely wouldn't want anything to do with you if he knew. He was far more experienced, and it made you grimace to imagine the number of women he'd slept with already. You couldn't compare, you'd drastically fall short in the way you wanted to please him the most.

"S'alright if you don't feel like doin' anythin'," He said, pulling your body closer.

"I want to," You started, your hands falling down his chest. "I just..." You trailed off, avoiding his gaze.

"What?" He asked, his eyes following you as you turned your head.

You cleared your throat.

Simon watched your face change, the reluctance in your expression. Your brows furrowing, your jugular pounding against your throat. He didn't let go, didn't let you wriggle out of his grip. His hands held tightly around your waist, his thumb gliding over the soft skin of your stomach.

"I haven't slept with anyone before." You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling even more vulnerable now that you'd admitted to your secret.

His jaw relaxed, shoulders falling as he digested your words.

"You're a virgin?" He asked, his lips parting with shock.

You wanted to bury your face in your hands. Your stomach must've been in your throat as nausea crept over you, and you couldn't swallow it down.

"Don't say it like that," You grumbled.

He gave a low chuckle, adjusting his hips as you slumped over on him.

"Nothin' wrong with that," He shrugged.

"I want to, I've just never been with anyone worthwhile."

"And I'm worthwhile to you?" He asked, watching your face soften.

"I think so," You said, tilting backwards to examine his face.

"Y'want me to take your virginity?" He asked, cocking his head ever so slightly. He had a small smile over his lips, still teasing you, even while you revealed your embarrassing truth to him.

"Don't say it like that," You repeated, scolding him again, embarrassed by the way he so brazenly announced it. "-And I've done other things." You met his eyes, watching his flicker to your lips.

He hummed, nodding. "Why don't y'tell me about it?" His hands tightened around you as he pulled you in.

His lips grazed your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your chest.

"What do you want to know?" You asked. There was hardly any strength behind your voice, between exhales and whimpers.

"You ever had anyone taste you?" His lips pressed firmly against your throat this time, languid kisses covering the expanse of your neck.

"Yes," You nodded.

"You like it?" He asked, his lips finding the soft spot behind your ear.

"Yes."

Your eyes shut, leaning into his touch as he devoured your neck, gentle kisses followed by teeth in your skin.

He moved you off his lap, letting you lie down beside him. He removed your feet from his thighs, shifting to kneel on one knee between your legs.

His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, slowly pulling them off your legs, along with your panties.

He tugged his shirt over his head- already covered in a thin layer of perspiration from your bodies being pressed together. Your eyes dropped to his chest, firm pecs and muscles that lined his navel; it made your mouth salivate, the pool of arousal getting deeper with every passing moment.

He buried his face against your chest, lavishing your breasts with kisses, your bra offering a sliver of humility until he reached beneath you and unclasped it. He slid it off your body, now fully intent on pulling one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly while running his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand cupped your neglected breast, rough fingers squeezing and massaging the flesh.

Your back arched into him, breaths of pleasure leaving your lips as he moved lower. His hands wrapped around your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders as he leaned down.

"You alright?" He looked up at you, your calves resting against his back, thighs squeezing his neck.

"Yeah," You nodded. "Keep going."

He flashed a brief grin, before he dove down, leaving kisses on the inside of your thighs. You flinched every time he'd sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh, a soothing lick afterward that eased your nerves until he'd strike again.

His lips made contact with the skin bordering your pussy; you awaited his tongue with trembling limbs, shaky breaths that caught in your throat. He didn't make you wait long, before his warm tongue slid between the furrow of your pussy. It made you lurch forward, the sudden infliction on your clit making your stomach tighten.

"So fuckin' good," He mumbled, sucking in a sharp breath.

You exhaled- a whimper leaving your lips at his words.

He kept your thighs pried apart, no matter how hard you tried to clamp them around his ears, or how much they shook over his shoulders. His fingers left impressions, digging into the doughy flesh as he too found himself invested in your taste.

The sounds his mouth produced while pressed against you were vulgar, loud slurping and sucking, lapping at your clit. He would move his head side to side, grunting against you as his tongue slid over your clit.

"You want my fingers?" He asked, pausing to look up at you.

You nodded, "Please," You breathed.

You felt a finger slide inside you, letting out a sigh as he curved it against your G-spot. His tongue reached your clit again, a bit faster now as he continued to hook his finger in your walls.

You gasped softly, your hips shifting with impatience as your orgasm teetered on the edge. He could feel your walls pulsating, short bursts of squeezes around his fingers. He watched you, your eyes shutting, your lips parting as you moaned into the open air.

Your body was enveloped with a searing heat, your heart racing in your chest, your pussy fluttering with pleasure as you closed in on your climax.

The last flick of his fingers and caress of his tongue pushed you over the edge, falling into the impending pleasure that awaited. Your hands reached his, grabbing and squeezing when your abdomen tightened. Your pussy clamped down around his finger, nearly stopping his beckoning motions as he continued through your climax.

"Yes," You choked out, low and uncharacteristically desperate.

Your hips writhed against his mouth, taking deep breaths as you recovered from the strenuous exertion.

He sat up from between your thighs, running his hands up your body, climbing over you simultaneously.

"You still sure?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face.

You were out of breath, tinged a shade of red with the flow of blood to your skin. Your hands fell to his arms, gliding up to meet his shoulders.

"I am," You nodded, your hands now clasping around the back of his neck.

He nodded, reached down to unbuckle his pants, dropping them low enough to let his cock spring free. He was already painfully erect- nearly throbbing with the blood rushing through him. You took note of how big he was, a bit intimidating for your first time, but you trusted him to be gentle, slow.

He was watching you the entire time, not paying any mind to how badly he wanted to feel you, to be inside you. It didn't matter how long he'd been practically buzzing with desire- he wanted to focus on you, to make it as pleasurable as possible for you.

"Done this more than a few times, huh?" You teased, having watched his expert fingers when he pulled his belt open with one hand.

He furrowed his brows, "You callin' me loose?" He asked, a small grin forming.

"Experienced?" You offered instead.

"You'd be surprised to hear it, sweetheart, but I ain't one for searchin' out pussy."

You nodded, a smirk on your lips.

"Virtuous man, are you?"

"Had a few," He tilted his head. "But you," He paused, leaning in to nuzzle his face into your neck. "I want you."

"You have me," You said, your hand cradling his head as he leaned into your neck.

"Not just tonight, sweetheart."

Your lips parted, searching for a response; something that would be equally as stunning to his ears, but you couldn't properly form a sentence. Not with the shocking revelation sitting in the air, taunting you.

"I need you," You whispered.

An invitation, a plea, a demand; a combination of all three. You didn't care how new it was, how intimidating it was to be experiencing something for the first time. You wanted him, needed him, much more than anyone else before him.

He shuddered against you, even more aroused to hear you beg for him. The sweet cadence of your voice in his ear, goosebumps covering his flesh; you did something to him he hadn't experienced in a long time.

He quickly opened the wrapper of a condom, one he'd tucked away in his back pocket in case you'd expressed interest in him the same way he did you; he was thankful he thought ahead. He usually did, it was ingrained in him now, imparted by his vigorous military training. He'd thank his drill sergeant one day.

"Might hurt," He said into your neck.

You could feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, the head of his cock barely intruding on the barrier of your pussy.

He used a bit more force, his hips moving forward to push past the plush muscles inside you. He watched your expression as you closed your eyes, bit down on your bottom lip.

"Look at me," He said. Not a harsh demand, a soft invitation for comfort.

You did, your eyes opening to find his.

It wasn't painful- not with the amount of effort Simon put into eating you out. It was strange, foreign sensation, to have something deep inside you, so much bigger than a finger or two.

"Y'alright?" He asked, clearly holding back, struggling through his question.

"Yeah," You exhaled. "Please don't stop," You said, your hands grasping at his hair.

"Fuckin' hell," He grunted. "You're fuckin' tight."

You could feel his hips retreat, gently sliding his cock back into you so not to hurt you.

He rounded his hips, his face inches from yours, an expression of disbelief on his face at just how well you were taking him, how wet your pussy had become after your orgasm. His lips were parted, face flushed as he rolled his hips into you.

Your head fell back, your toes curling as you brought your thighs to his sides, clamping them down around his waist. It felt right, comfortable, enjoyable. You hadn't expected it to be so easy.

You lifted your head to find his lips, pressing yours into his as he kept at his pace; slow strokes that stretched the entirety of your pussy, nearly meeting your cervix.

"Goddamn," He cursed, pulling back from your tongue to exhale sharply. "You're doin' so well," He praised. "So fuckin' well."

You smiled softly, your hands still clasped around his neck as his hips met yours. You removed one hand, knowing well enough that stimulating your clit was sure to help you orgasm a second time. You sucked on two fingers, before dropping them to the apex of your pussy, rolling them over the sensitive bud.

You'd half expected sex to feel amazing, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. Truthfully, it was Simon- his body over yours, his hands searching your body- that made it pleasurable. His concern for your well-being, making sure you were comfortable, safe; it sent a surge of arousal through you. You felt connected to him, bearing your entire being to him, and he seemed to find you fucking irresistible.

"Simon," You whispered, the soft tone of your voice meeting his ear. "Feels so good, Simon."

He would've crumpled, fallen into you and let himself go- but he wanted to see you climax. Wanted to see you fall apart while he split you open on his cock. He took a bit of pride in being the man you chose to experience it with, and he wasn't keen on making you regret it.

His pace was even, your fingers matching the speed as he drove in and out of you. You could see the droplets of sweat on his skin, the way his abdomen glistened as he moved. His eyes poring into yours, watching for any hint of pleasure, pain or discomfort.

He liked watching you, feeling you, just breathing you in. Your smell, your touch, being inside you was intoxicating. He was lightheaded, near his own orgasm, when he felt the familiar flutter around his cock.

Your eyebrows were drawn tight, lips open in a gasp that was trapped in your throat. He could see your eyes begin to flutter shut, your body freezing in a rigid stance- then your pussy constricted around his cock. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a guttural moan, gripping his neck, your nails digging into the skin.

"Simon," You choked, raking your nails down his back as your climax descended. "Fuck," You whimpered.

"Fuckin' hell, sweetheart," He mumbled.

His muscles flexed as he finally reached his peak, releasing into the condom with a shiver and a deep groan.

The air was still as you stared at each other, quiet recollection of what just took place. You didn't feel different, but you felt good. Still enjoying the after effects of your orgasm, the pliability in your relaxed limbs.

He sat back, helping you up off the couch. He offered you his T-shirt, holding it out to you.

He cleared his throat, "Feel alright?"

You nodded, smiling softly at his awkward disposition. "Yes, thank you."

"Y'can stay the night," He said. "I'd like it if y'did."

Your brows lifted, "So you weren't just trying to get in my pants?" You bit your lip, hiding the giggle at the base of your throat.

"Don't need to lie my way into your cunt, sweetheart. The truth seemed to do it well enough." He was clearly hiding a smile.

You gently hit his shoulder, laughing. Your energy quickly dissipated, and he pulled you into his side. He focused his attention back on the TV screen with a hand wrapped around you, the other on your thigh. You let your head rest on his shoulder, releasing a deep sigh of contentment.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you

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4dbarbie-archive · 9 months

Text

4dbarbie remix: How to realise Self?

Disclaimer: This remix/mashup post was compiled by me, a student of 4dbarbie as a way to make sense of everything and to understand how to apply the knowledge practically. I went through all her posts and answered asks to make this which is made up of various parts of 25 49 (omg lol there was a lot of good stuff) different posts and answered asks. It is not an original post by 4dbarbie herself but all words are directly from her various posts and answered asks (except for my clarification notes which are in purple text in brackets & the last section after the last divider where I make some closing comments). Hopefully the way I've organised the information in this post makes sense and helps some Vanessas out there. ♡

Fair warning as this is a pretty long post essay (!) so maybe grab a cup of tea or something :) If you are really new to all this then take some time to really process it, there is no rush. My personal notes and highlights are in pink for main points and purple for 'action' points.

May we all realize our Self ♡

There would be no steps necessary, no process to undertake if you would just establish yourself in the I AM alone. You are so lost in your play you forget reality. 1 If you are "I AM", it means you are not the person experiencing the world/thoughts/circumstances, you never were. 2

The external world, you control it (because it is you!, in you), you make it, fully, even when you tell yourself you don't. 3 To know yourself as the source of all that is, you have to first remove the veil of what's stopping you from seeing it in the first place. To know your real being, you have to first abandon what you thought yourself to be. 4 There is no external life, there is no need to use any methods to recondition or train your mind. It is much faster, much easier and you are hundreds times happier just letting go of the mind. 5 The process is one of letting go more and more until you find yourself having nothing, being nothing. The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 6

A jeweler who wants to refashion an ornament, first melts it down to shapeless gold. Similarly, one must return to one's original state before a new name and form can emerge. The only way to renewal lies through destruction. You must melt down the old jewellery into formless gold before you can mold a new one. What refuses to die cannot be reborn. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 7

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. By thinking you are it, you create a character who desires and then identify yourself with it. You can only have when you let go of thinking that you don't. To change, you need to give up this conviction of being this person. You need to disbelieve. 9

Most of you can't change because you are so desperate TO change... but there is nothing to want to change. Things just are. Don't work with changing self, just realize who self actually is. 10

You have it, all is well. Just stop believing the illusions born out of thinking you're a person. 11

Unless they understand who they really are, that Vanessa is a habit and nothing more - that nothing has existence outside of awareness, including her, that awareness assigns reality and is the only reality - they're always going to struggle to control something and get frustrated they don't see what they think they're aware of. What you're aware of is what you're being. You can't be aware of being something new while also being Vanessa. 12

Knowing is being. If you really knew, the thing you knew would be materialized. You know you are Vanessa so you're being Vanessa. Would you want Vanessa if you were her? No. You are her so you don't desire her. And you won't be able to be Vanessa 2.0 if you don't shed this Vanessa first. That is, let go of thinking the thoughts are yours. 8

Your memories of the life Vanessa lived are now and not in a past. You are imagining her past being now. Her past exists now because you are aware of it now. If you were Lara you would be aware of a different past, still now. Basically there was no yesterday and you are imagining "a past having been" today. 13

Anon: "Do I have to endure the world while I know my self as awareness and disbelieve that I am Vanessa???" Ada: THE POINT OF KNOWING YOURSELF AS AWARENESS IS TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT AT ALL TIMES, FOREVER. It's complete, incomparable freedom and power. It's the only real love. 14

You are either your Self with nothing attached to it or you're an ego. Disbelieve you were ever her. See what happens. 41

A lot of beliefs are subconscious. "I am a body", "I am Vanessa", "There is a world" are all subconscious, automatic beliefs. Upon investigation you can get rid of any belief (by making them conscious and then dropping them). 15 How do you drop a belief? (see part 1 and part 2)

HOW TO STOP?

The body and the mind are only symptoms of ignorance, of misapprehension. Behave as if you were pure awareness, bodiless and mindless, spaceless and timeless, beyond 'where' and 'when' and 'how'. Dwell on it, think of it, learn to accept its reality. Don't oppose it and deny it all the time. Keep an open mind at least. Make your mind and body express the real which is ALL and beyond all. By doing, you succeed. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

You need not take time to meditate or put time aside to contemplate and "apply". All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours. 16 It is your own desire to hold on to it that creates the problem. Let go. Stop imagining that the dream is yours. As long as you give reality to dreams, you are their slave; see all as a dream and stay out of it. 17

You imagine that there is an external world in which the you that you're identified with lives, but all of that is in your mind. Stop imagining it's true and it dissolves, which can only mean it never was. Which can only mean you assigned reality to it by thinking you're it 18

I've said it before, you don't have to convince Vanessa that she's unreal. Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go... you're holding so tightly onto your ideas now, that's why you can't see their falsity. 19 You don't have to convince anyone of anything. What I teach here is to leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 2 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you. Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them. 32 Doesn't matter what the thought is, leave it alone, ignore it BUT not by force of will, just indifference. We've established you aren't the ego, alright? Thoughts, right now, are from the ego. 20

Thoughts of the past life come, remember they no longer have anything to do with you. Literal full delusion (I only call it that because after being identified with a person for so long, it's mind-blowing to grasp you are not that). Thoughts are not yours, complete indifference - no need to fight them. Where they come from, none of your business. Only know they are not yours. YOU not being in your desired reality is a thought, got it? This body and this world are not forced onto you, they exist through your identification with them. Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. After you've detached, you'll easily shift to as many realities as you want - don't put any on a pedestal of desire, they are equal. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (referring to anon's desire). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you. 21

You don't need to convince yourself they're unreal, just dismiss them as not yours. They will disappear more and more through your newfound indifference, then their physical counterparts will, too. Detachment is by doubt and indifference. First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own. 20

Start letting go bit by bit, just to see what happens, you won't start "acting crazy" just because you become uninterested in thoughts, I promise 22

What I recommend you to do is bring your self into focus, become aware of your own existence. See how you function, watch the motives and the results of your actions. Study the prison you have built around yourself because of credulity. By knowing what you are not, you come to know your self. The way back to your self is through refusal and rejection. 23

Here's a scale of emotions you go through, from bottom to top: apathy, grief, fear, hostility, anger, indifference, acceptance, freedom finally - and then unlimited, independent joy. You can review this to see where you are on the journey and what should come next. You can't skip them, all of them have to happen for you to have the all. 14

Do not try to understand any more, just be. And let other things be as they are. Even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. 14

If you are angry or in pain, separate yourself from anger and pain and watch them. Step away and look. The physical events will go on happening, but by themselves they have no importance. It is your mind alone that matters. When you identify yourself with them, you are their slave, you think you have to act on them. When you stand apart, you are their master. 24

One thing is certain: the real is not imaginary, it is not a product of the mind. 23

You are beyond the mind. Mind and body become your servants once you discover your Self. The present moment is all that is, so yes - become aware of having never been the ego, of your ego being just one of your creations. Ego is the concept of individuality, of separation from the “I", and the All. Therefore ego is a false assumption. We are really the Supreme Reality, we are not separate from It. To "fix" the separation, reject what you are not. Only look at who you are, over and over and over until it becomes the permanent identification and replaces the ego. 25

Once you are convinced that you cannot say truthfully about your self anything except ‘I am’, and that nothing that can be pointed at, can be your self, the need for the ‘I am’ is over — you are no longer intent on verbalising what you are. All you need is to get rid of the tendency to define your self. All definitions apply to your body only and to its expressions. Once this obsession with the body goes, you will revert to your natural state, spontaneously and effortlessly. 23

Drop the false ideas first and watch. After what keeps you stuck goes, you can do whatever you want. You can think the ugliest thoughts and nothing will happen if you know yourself as who you are. It's your identification with the thought that causes the thought to be true. 26

The guilt is because you think you're running out of time and you need to change "your" life now. Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough. 27

She (Vanessa) will vanish yes, you ask how because you still think waking is more real than a dream. Do your dreams not vanish? Do you wonder how they vanish? They just stop existing all of a sudden when you go into another dream (waking). What if you've lived all your life as Ada and woke up one morning and were suddenly Vanessa with no memory of Ada, would you know anybody vanished? Nope. All you know is who you are right now (because present is all that is), which is Vanessa. 28 Leave poor Vanessa alone, with both her desires and fears, disbelieve you are her until reality becomes self-obvious.

By being your Self you gain the freedom of existing as anything, anytime. You don't lose Vanessa's pretty body if you don't want to stop imagining yourself as being Vanessa with her pretty body. 29

Nothing is lost, awareness just shifts. You can always go back. We're just removing the obstacles that stop you from having this freedom of choice (your identification with this person). You can completely wipe out Vanessa's existence as well. Later if you change your mind, you can make it so that she actually existed again. You are no form, you are formless, the form only is when you imagine there is a form, be your favorite form and dream beautiful dreams :) 30

There is no difference between sleeping and waking, awareness is the background of both. You just think the waking state more real because you've dreamt it over and over and reinforced your belief. They're equally imaginary. Become aware of this and life will forever be a breeze. 31

All depends on you. It is by your consent that the world exists. Withdraw your belief in its reality and it will dissolve like a dream. Cease from looking for happiness and reality in a dream and you will wake up. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 17

Your next step will be realizing there is nothing to learn in a dream. You'll find yourself having less and less thoughts, then none at all. Then, only if you want, you will be able to reinstall the mind, now of your choice, and change the dream. 16

Past doesn't come up anymore, memories don't come up anymore after you've ignored (thoughts) & detached yourself enough. They just don't. You can think freely now about being something different. If you can't, don't get mad, don't blame, only know that the one that's doubting isn't you, so the doubts are totally fine to be. They'll be for a while and then they dissolve too, because by ignoring, not getting involved - you forget. And by forgetting not only do you free up so much mental space, but possibilities of what can be, become unnumbered. 36 Anon: Is it okay to feel completely indifferent after learning about this stuff? Like, not feeling as worried about what is playing in front of me since I know its not me Ada: That's the goal. Then become indifferent to the thoughts you get as well. Those aren't yours either. You'll become aware they've dissolved & you can reconstruct the mind however you want because you have no attachment to past beliefs anymore. 33

Even the process is very beautiful... but the very best is when your Self becomes the permanent background instead of Vanessa. Now you always return to Vanessa, later you'll forget to consider her ♡ Dream not of a character who wants and desires, there is nothing to long for — only things to be. 16

To not depend on anything but everything to depend on you is a top state you can grasp with no method. 5 The experience is of being empty, uncluttered by memories and expectations; it is like the happiness of open spaces, of being young, of having all the time and energy for doing things, for discovery, for adventure. A sense of 'there is nothing wrong with me. I have nothing to worry about'. But not one you condition yourself into like you conditioned yourself into a body, it is one that naturally and effortlessly dawns on you by itself when you reject all else, because it is your natural state. 34 Real freedom and real love only emerge when you're not identified with a transient ego. 35

All you are doing is becoming lucid. Becoming able to control the dream. You won't be able to, unless you step out of it. That is, stop thinking this story you tell yourself is true. When Vanessa is no longer all you are, you'll be able to 'change reality' the way you change the film in a video projector. You'll be able to have as much fun in the play as you want to, change it when you no longer want this one specifically. The emotions of the character are fun and welcomed, because they no longer imprison you, there's the background of love to it all - that once you gain, it can't be lost, it's ever present. 36

What you are identified with materializes. If you are not, it disappears. 37

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is. All you need to fix is your wrong identification. There isn't anyone who couldn’t materialize anything right now if he or she would just let go of identifying as the limited body. 38

Only by letting go of all do you gain everything. But once it's done, it's done irreversibly. Fear is no more, control is fully yours. You are free, completely. And with the bliss of freedom no human pleasure compares. You become full love, full power. The absolute and only power. Sooner or later, you will arrive at the same conclusion. You can't stop being what you are, all else can stop existing, but you can't. The only thing you have a choice in is delaying seeing it by thinking you are this or that. Only see it (I Am), then you can imagine whatever you want and it will be. 39

If you project the world, it is within your power to change it. But you must stop identifying yourself with it first. Go beyond, then you have all the power to destroy and recreate. All everybody wants is to be free, but to do that you must know two things: what you are to be free from and what keeps you bound. 2

Your own self is your ultimate teacher, the outer teacher is merely a milestone. It is only your inner teacher that will walk with you to the goal, because he is the goal. - Nisargadatta Maharaj 40

Got more questions? Recommended reading:

Ada's recommended guides on realizing Self: 1, 2, 3

My recommended posts from Ada*: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

All references from the remix post

Books: I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj** and Keys to The Ultimate Freedom by Lester Levenson

*in addition to the sources linked in the post **a lot of her posts incorporate quotes and excerpts from this book, moreso than Lester Levenson's Keys to The Ultimate Freedom and she also shared a lot of excerpts from the book

What does this look like when applied?

Experience is the best teacher and learning from other's experiences and how they applied this knowledge can be really valuable and insightful. I don't define success based on materialising things necessarily although that is one result of realizing Self.

From 4dbarbie students: see the tag

Other: 1, 2

Okay, what to do after reading all this?

Apply apply apply. Don't wait, nothing will happen by waiting. There is only now. Inquire who is causing trouble and to whom. You can't think yourself into realization. 'You' are beyond the mind. You are the creator of the mind. It must be experienced.

#remix #4dbarbie #nonduality #non duality #nondualism #non dualism

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after-witch · 2 months

Text

Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out.

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you.

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”?

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?”

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep.

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live?

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this.

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing.

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.”

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone. You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared.

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little.

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered.

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now.

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle you could write home, how would you even word the letter?

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item.

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended.

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…”

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat.

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you.

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness.

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it.

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them.

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light.

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page.

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted.

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined.

She didn’t act right away.

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning.

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind.

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you?

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!”

Before you knew it, you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away.

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it.

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords.

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t.

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor.

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent.

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears.

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing.

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist.

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead.

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now?

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand.

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways.

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table.

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said.

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.”

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out.

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home.

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms.

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments.

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain.

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage.

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you?

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down. “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–”

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side.

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.”

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.”

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?”

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here.

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you.

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now.

Freedom was confusing as hell.

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle.

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink.

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied.

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun.

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

#yandere #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #afterwitch writes #/pets prologue done! dunno how many chapters this one will end up being.

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circe69 · 1 year

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𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 (FEM!READER X SIMON RILEY)

wc: 1.7 - genre: suggestive fluff - narrative: you get snowed in with ghost and a none-working heater. GASP. whatever shall you do to stay warm? muahahah. - warnings: makeout at the end, again, suggestive, other than that nothing.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Ghost, Ghost do you copy? Over."

A male's voice booms through your partner's radio, cutting through the loud silence of the blizzard blowing your ears out.

Ghost pressed down on a button after muttering not-so-quiet curses, "Yeah, copy, out." His voice was angry, like it always was, probably upset at the fact that he was stuck with one of the newest trainees, a woman who knew how to shoot but not necessarily where to aim.

"Y/N, you coming?" He demanded over his shoulder. "Yeah, right behind you Lieutenant."

You were slightly terrified, Ghost was the one you didn't want to be stuck with ever, especially stuck with in a snowstorm. The two of you trekked up a giant hill and awaited Captain Price's further instructions, if the signal would even allow.

"Good. There's a safe house up over the hill. It's a log cabin, not in perfect condition by any means, but it'll keep you warm. Over." Price's voice came through staticky, barely comprehensive, but Ghost understood every word.

He sighed, "Roger that." He stayed quiet for a while before asking you, without even turning around, "You hear all that?" You had to swallow to moisten your dry throat before speaking up. "Yes sir." Snow was stuck in your boots, making you yearn for any sort of warm comfort. The weather was unpredictable, meaning neither of you were prepared to be snowed on. You prayed the cabin had hot water and a large supply of soft blankets.

As you neared the house, it was almost pretty. Despite the water damage and evasive vines covering the sides, the snow almost made it seem fairytale-like, from a movie or something. Ghost shook the snow off his boots on the last step and you did the same, trying to act like you knew what you were doing, but you ended up stubbing your toe and silently groaning under your breath.

Entering the cabin, it wasn't any warmer than it was outside. You started to interject but Ghost stopped you mid-sentence, "Don't get your panties in a twist, I need to turn on the AC."

Your jaw still agape at his comment, you watched him throw off his backpack and gear on the nearest couch and storm back outside. While he hopefully fixed the air conditioning, you took it upon yourself to check the place, opening and closing doors, cabinets, turning on the water and smiling at how hot it was. Opening a closet close to the kitchen, you found it to be stocked with pillows and fuzzy duvets, quilts, and towels. You'd never been so excited to see sheets.

Ghost opened the screen door and slammed it, maybe he thought it was easier than just getting your attention by saying your name, "Bad news."

Oh great. "What?"

He sighed before continuing, "AC won't work. Stupid Price must be having himself a ball back at headquarters, laughing with Soap about how bloody freezing we'll be." His sentences turned into mumbles as he walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. He almost groaned at the feeling, and you felt your cheeks flush at the sound.

You said nothing in response but looked back to the closet and chose which blanket, or blankets, you'd wrap around yourself. You reached up to grab a quilt from the top shelf, but when you pulled on it, maybe 5 more came down with it. A few fast footsteps came up behind you, and you felt a presence behind you as they fell on top of you.

You screamed in surprise and turned around to see Ghost was standing with his arms up, trying to support the 20 pounds in blankets. It looked like maybe he tried to catch them, but it didn't work.

Ghost had essentially created a giant tent for you. His body towered over you, and his arms outstretched almost reached the ceiling. You started to belly laugh at the circumstances, but you quieted down when Ghost stayed frustratingly quiet. "What're you laughing about? It's not funny." His statement just made you laugh more, now you were clenching your stomach and bent over, laughing your head off. Ghost's accent was always increasingly stronger when he was angry. You absolutely loved it.

He almost started to smile; you swear you saw it, but before you got a glimpse of his teeth, he got out from under the blankets and left you alone, the weight almost knocking you to the floor. You heard a snicker as he left.

"I'm gonna take a shower, Y/N, feel free to do whatever." You hummed in response, exhausted from folding and putting the blankets back up on the top shelf.

As you heard the water run, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. Sure, I mean, this wasn't the best circumstance you could be in, but maybe Ghost wasn't as awful as you thought. He was definitely attractive and had a sense of humor that he just didn't know how to use, but it was perfect. As you almost smiled to yourself just thinking about it, you heard a banging on the wall, coming from the shower. You jumped in your seat at the noise, and didn't even stand up before you heard Ghost yell, "Hey, get me a towel would ya?" Goodness, he was loud. You could visibly see birds fly away at his screaming.

"Yeah, yeah!" You yelled back, returning to the closet and prepared yourself to open it. Grabbing a white, scratchy towel, you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom, you had to walk through a bedroom to get there. Stepping over Ghost's clothes made your breath accelerate, he'd just left them scattered across the floor.

You knocked on the bathroom door, "Come in," was the only response you got. It was gruff, demanding. You'd be scared not to. Steam poured out as you opened the door, not sure where to look and where not to.

"Here," you said quietly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the thought of Ghost in the shower. You saw his arm outstretch from behind the curtain, wet fingers ready to grip the towel. You stared at them for a minute before his hand flexed, signaling you to give it to him. After handing him the towel, "Thanks," was all he said.

You didn't know what to say, so you stumbled on your words as you spoke, "Is the water hot at least?"

Ghost laughed deeply, making your stomach churn, "Smoking." You chuckled awkwardly before bolting out of the bathroom, unable to make any more small talk that close to his naked body. How could anyone?

You heard the water turn off and climbed under your covers on the rickety couch, if Ghost were to come out, you'd pretend you were asleep and had been for a while. You could hear his bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, his clothes being slid on and all the yawns and quiet groans escaping his mouth.

He opened the bedroom door and your eyes slammed shut. "Oi."

You said nothing, but you could sense him getting closer to the couch. "I know you're not asleep, there's no way anyone could on that thing."

One eye blinked open to find Ghost's face hovering over yours from behind the couch. His wet hair dripped onto your face, and he hesitatingly wiped it off with his fingers. "Sorry 'bout that," he whispered.

"S' fine," you whispered back, shamelessly staring at every part of his face.

"Let me sleep here. You already complain about your back all the time. Don't need anymore."

You rolled your eyes and closed them again before turning over on your pillow, your back now facing him. "No way, I was here first."

He scoffed, "Unbelievable. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Ghost started to walk away before you rolled your eyes once more and jumped up from the couch, making a run for the bedroom with a pillow under your arm. "What the-," Ghost said as you ran past him. You jumped on the bed and immediately sighed when you pulled the covers up, "It's freezing, it'd be stupid not take advantage of human warmth. It's like, the only thing we're good for."

Ghost cocked an eyebrow and slowly walked to the other side of the bed with his arms crossed over his huge chest. "The only thing, huh?" He got underneath the covers carefully after shutting the last lamp off, and you shivered as his skin brushed against yours.

"Ghost, you're freezing!" Your teeth chattered for dramatic effect, and he placed a hand on the back of your neck just to make you squeal. You did just that, giggling and trying to peel his freezing hand away but it was no use; he plastered his other hand on the other side of your head to hold himself up as his hand warmed up from your skin.

"I guess you're right, warmth is the only thing you got going f' ya, isn't it?" He teased, and you slapped his arm. "How dare you." You whispered.

His arm rested on your bare waist, even though it took a long time for it to get there. Ghost was never good with women, touch, admiration of any kind, but he'd be willing to embarrass himself for you. You squirmed slightly at the feeling, but allowed yourself to scooch closer to him, taking his touch as words in and of itself. Come closer. Touch me back.

Your hand slowly made its way up his bicep, squeezing every so often at the muscle. His eyes were low and hooded as they watched you watch him, feel him. Once you looked up at him, your arms now wrapped around his neck, you could feel his breath on your mouth; that's how close your faces were. You watched his lips, open and close, his tongue licked his bottom one, and that was all you needed.

You took ahold of him, putting your lips on his. It was slow at first, careful, gentle. Until your hands drifted up his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly, and it elicited a soft groan from him. You opened your mouth, and Ghost followed after you. Now he was greedy, hungry, starving. His tongue swept across your lips first before making contact with your own tongue. You broke from the kiss, slightly panting and lips swollen. You suddenly realized how hot it had gotten, and so had Ghost.

"See? Human warmth." You said into Ghost's neck after burying yourself into him. You felt his jaw flex, most likely from a smirk, and he pulled the covers up over both of you. "Whatever."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x y/n #modern warfare #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #circe69scribbles

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strawbeerossi · 10 months

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Jealousy

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the team tracks down the unsub they are looking for, it’s up to reader to lure him out of the bar with nothing but her charm and charisma. Spencer however, just can’t stand watching it. He makes sure to make his feelings known to the reader later on.

Content Warnings: Post-Prison!Spencer, Jealous!Spencer, BAU!reader, case details, coarse language, Dom!Spencer, kinda mean!Spencer, sub!reader, possessiveness, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (F receiving), fingering, hair pulling, spitting, aftercare, fluff at the end

Word count: 3k

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Well, here it is! Can I technically call this ‘Jealousy (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)’ ?

Spencer approached Emily, his brow furrowed with concern, as he held a file tightly in his hands. "Emily, we need to talk about Y/N's undercover assignment. I've been analyzing the data, and there are some significant risks involved that we need to address before we even think of sending her out there.” he began, his voice laced with urgency.

Emily, her expression serious yet attentive, met Spencer’s gaze. "I understand your concerns, Reid, but we've already vetted this operation thoroughly. Y/N is well-prepared and capable of handling herself," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring.

It wasn’t matters of him thinking that Y/N wasn’t prepared, it was him being worried because this unsub was taking women who fit her image description and killing them after doing horrible things to them.

The male nodded, his worry still evident. "I know Y/N is skilled, but the circumstances surrounding this case are unusually complex. I just want to make sure we have contingency plans in place and that we're ready to support her in any way necessary," he explained, his analytical mind racing with potential scenarios. She could have a knife pulled on her and be forced out, this unsub could drug her by sticking her with something, he could kill her right there if he figured out she was a federal agent..

After being released from prison, Spencer became a different man. He used to be more composed, now however, he was more temperamental. It didn’t help that Y/N was his girlfriend, the need to protect her being obvious. Besides, who wants to see their partner talking with a man who was brutally stabbing women and doing horrible things to their corpses? Especially when each of those women could’ve been her twin. That put her in a high risk situation that wasn’t a guaranteed arrest.

“Reid,” The Unit Chief let one hand come up to rub her face, the woman being tired of the argument. She could understand the worry and frustration, however this was Y/N’s job that she’d been doing for a good six years now. She knew the stakes as well as what she could or couldn’t handle.

“I promise that we will have this covered. We have surveillance all over the bar. Alvez, Simmons, and you are going to be inside, close enough to stop anything if things go too far.” She stressed the details, the woman just being exhausted explaining her decision continuously. “You aren’t changing my mind. I need you to understand that this decision was made with Y/N. You need to let her do her job.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N walked into the dimly lit bar, her gaze looking around for Marcus Black, the man’s face still fresh in her mind from the picture that Penelope had sent her while she was on the way over to the location, the woman trying to mentally prepare herself for the mental gymnastics she’d have to go through for this. It was a common misconception that undercover missions were much easier than having to risk it by assuming who the unsub is and building off the profile.

Y/N would argue this is much harder. You have to stand in front of a person who did unspeakable things to others. You have to get close and personal, be able to hide that overwhelming feeling of being disgusted, nervous, and even terrified. This was a man who was definitely bigger than she was in every aspect, being able to take her down if he truly wanted to.

That didn’t stop her from flashing a bright smile at the bartender as she’d approached the bar, sitting in a bar stool while ordering a vodka tonic. Across the room, she could get a clear view of Matt Simmons, the man keeping his gaze fixated on her as he gave a nod once the two made direct eye contact.

She had a wire, the team could hear everything from the earpieces they all had in order to communicate with one another as well as communicate with her, even if she couldn’t very well respond in an obvious way.

Although as Y/N was lost in her thoughts, she could feel a presence beside her, one that oozed darkness. The vibe had dropped tremendously low, however Y/N needed to keep up a façade or all of this will go to shit, something the team definitely doesn’t need right now.

Especially when they could just taste the capture that was going to come. “Hi.” The woman spoke, a charming smile gracing her features while her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink.

Which as she had struck up a conversation, Spencer was quietly watching from the other end of the bar, nursing a full glass of some mixed drink in front of him just to avoid suspicion. He knew that she had to fake interest but that didn’t stop a heat rising in his chest, one associated with jealousy.

Seeing his girlfriend giving another man bedroom eyes, laughing at every word he said, even putting her hand on his upper arm was enough to make him seethe in his spot, hazel eyes focused on his girlfriend.

She was giggling, he could just hear it from his spot, probably telling him that she just couldn’t bare the thought of going home alone. He was just further pissing himself off thinking of the potential things she could be saying, not even tuning in to the actual dialogue because he knew it would’ve pissed him off much more than his own thoughts.

It was enough to make him clench his hand around the glass in his right hand. It was like his brain was trying to trick him into genuinely believing that Y/N was enjoying herself. He knew better, however the anger over the ‘what if’ had him shaking.

It reminded him of when he was in prison.

Y/N would come to visit him and it was one of the only things that got him through the hell, however the other inmates always had their comments. Saying explicit things about his angel, what they’d do to her given the chance to ever see her outside of those four cement walls. He wanted to keep his head down at the time but god damn, if this version of him was in prison, he would’ve been throwing fists and starting fights over his girlfriend, adding onto his sentence.

This was absolute fucking torture, Spencer’s leg bouncing in annoyance as he was using his opposite hand to put the earpiece in his ear, just in time to hear something that would have him absolutely livid. “I don’t think you could handle me, sweetheart. However if you’re up for a challenge, I’m always happy to take a precious little dove like yourself home.. However.. I don’t know if you could take what I’m going to give you,”

The male’s voice was the first thing Spencer was greeted with. “Is that so? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But I promise, once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, there's no turning back.” Y/N countered, her voice low and in a seductive tone while her fingers were tracing over the rim of her glass.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, honey.” The man continued while looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Most women can’t handle what I offer. We make a wager..” There it is! Now tell her, you fucking fuck.

“If they can get through my little game, they get to go home. If not?” He began, reaching in his jacket pocket. Which was enough to make Spencer jump up from his spot before he was storming over, catching a glimpse of a knife being pulled from an inner jacket pocket.

It gave him probable cause to shove the man over the counter, making Y/N’s eyes widen at the surprise while she was jumping back.

“Marcus Black, you are under arrest for the murders of Christine Brailey, Jessica Fredricks, and Emily Knight as well as the attempted murder of Amanda Grey.” Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, the handcuffs locking tightly on his wrists before he was shoving him out of the bar.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N’s back was hitting the front door of the apartment as soon as she and Spencer made it inside, the woman gasping while she was trapped between her boyfriend’s body and the wooden door.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying yourself back there. I mean you were really trying to sell it, weren’t you?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raising as his hand was coming under his girlfriends chin to make her look at him. He looked furious, it was enough to make Y/N nearly fall on her knees right then and there.

The thing about Spencer was that he was much different now, prison changing him in many ways. He was still a good man, there were no doubts about that, but now he had more anger.

Which Y/N was the outlet he needed when he was having a hard time, fucking her deep into their mattress where she was soaking their bedsheets with her cum, getting to the point where she was crying from overstimulation and begging for more.

“Get your little ass in the bedroom.” Spencer spat, dropping his hand before watching his girlfriend scurry off, making a b-line to their bedroom. It took Spencer an agonising amount of time to lock up and make sure everything was turned off for the night before he was making an appearance.

“You know, I could tell you were truly enjoying yourself. How does it feel to be a fucking whore?” He spat, making Y/N clench her thighs together as she could just feel her arousal soaking her panties from the harsh words.

“Look at you. Fucking pathetic. You’re really getting wet right now while I’m scolding you for being a whore?” He asked, taking a few steps over before letting his hand tangle in his girlfriend’s hair, tugging her head up to force her to look up at him from the spot where she was sitting on their king sized bed.

“So cock hungry.” He spoke while letting go of her hair while working to loosen his tie, urging his girlfriend to take his belt off for him. However as she was moving to start on his pants, his hand was wrapping around hers. “No.” He began, using the tie he’d loosened and taken off to restrain her hands behind her back.

“You don’t get the pleasure of touching me tonight.” He scolded his girlfriend before pushing her back onto the mattress, his hand grabbing her right ankle before he was pulling her to the end of the bed.

The black dress she wore had a perfect eyeful for him, her tits threatening to spill over the top as he was running his large hands over her body, fingertips tracing over the straps before he was pulling them down, letting her breasts out of their confinement while he groaned lowly. He had seen her body so much and he could navigate it with ease, but seeing her was always like the first time. Just.. He knows what he’s doing now and he’s not as nervous. “Fucking gorgeous.” His voice was low while he was using no effort at all to tug the dress down her legs, throwing it somewhere on their bedroom floor.

“The point of panties is to have something to cover you up.” He spoke lowly, chuckling as her needy, swollen cunt was practically swallowing the fabric of the panties that were on her hips. With a soft hum, his fingertips were running across her covered slit, collecting her arousal on his fingers while sighing, his head shaking.

“Look my angel. Who’s got you this wet?” He asked, his hands pushing her thighs apart more, falling to his knees at the edge of the mattress. “Y-you.” Y/N was whispering, shaking with anticipation as she was really desperate for something, anything. She knew the game Spencer was playing though.

“Damn right,” He gave an arrogant smirk while blowing cool air on her soaked pussy, a chuckle leaving his lips at the pathetic mewl that fell from her lips. “That’s right. Me. Because you’re mine, Y/N. Gonna show you what happens when you get too into flirting when you only had to do the bare minimum.” He murmured, his fingers hooking in the waistband of the black panties, tugging them down her legs while discarding of them somewhere on the floor.

Spencer was delving right in, eating her as if she was his last meal and he was a starved man, the way Y/N’s whines and cries making his cock stand at attention. However it wasn’t long until he was pulling away, tongue paying attention to her throbbing clit while two of his long fingers were being pushed into her without warning.

Her pussy was clenching around the digits, her back arching off of their sheets as she was blabbing her own praises, even if she wasn’t making too much sense because she was a sobbing mess as she could feel those long fingers curling.

Her hands were still bound, grabbing onto her own wrist, although she’d rather have her fingers in Spencer’s hair and being able to shove his face against her more. However, it was all crashing down when Spencer was pulling away, the male chuckling as his girlfriend was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She was desperate for relief.

“Shh.. I know.” The male chuckled, now getting off his shirt, shedding his slacks as well before his boxers were the last to go. He was getting situated, his hands wrapping her shaking legs around his waist while he was spitting onto her already soaked pussy, the tip of his cock teasing her desperate cunt by spreading the sit around as if she needed to be lubed up.

“Alright, angel. Are you ready for my cock or do you need my fingers a little longer?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. Even in his state, he’d always ask before going too crazy. Last thing he needed was to hurt her.

“Cock!” Y/N blabbed immediately, eyes glossed over while her hips were rolling in an attempt to get some sort of friction, clenching around nothing as she was left to lay there helpless.

“Answer any faster, why don’t you? Someone is eager..” Spencer chuckled, however he was getting quite desperate himself. So, he wasn’t wasting time before his cock was pushing into her cunt, his head falling on her shoulder while he let out a low groan.

Y/N was letting out a drawn out moan, a few whimpers following after. There was always a delicious stretch, the pleasurable pain having her squirming and trying to push herself against his cock for more, the only thing stopping her was a strong hand on her hip.

“Patience. I’ll pull out right now and cum on your stomach and leave you here to squirm. You know better than this.” He warned, his voice low as he kissed the spot under her ear.

Feeling his rock hard cock stretching and stuffing her felt beyond amazing and she loved it. Once he was bottoming out, Spencer wasted no time in beginning to ram his cock into his girlfriend.

The feeling of her velvety, plushy walls was always enough to drive him insane. It was like she was made for him, not even just her body but her as a person. She complimented him so well and he did the same with her. It was safe to say that she was his person. Emphasis on his.

The sinful sounds of skin slapping against each other and the moans, whimpers and cries from Y/N were filling the once quiet bedroom. Their neighbors hated them enough, Spencer could already hear the complaints from the woman next door. She’d already made several noise complaints in the past, which Y/N would joke with Spencer that it was because she hadn’t been touched in a good thirty years. What a life that would be.

Spencer kept up his steady, relentless thrusts. His goal was always to have Y/N cum first, mainly because the mere sight of her creaming around his cock was enough to make him explode. “Sp-Sp.. I-I… C-Cu-“ That was all he got out of her before he knew exactly what she was trying to convey judging by the way her cunt squeeze tightly around him, a cry leaving her lips as she was doing hitting her orgasm, her back arching off the mattress as her nails were digging into her wrists.

“Fuck!” She cried, Spencer giving a few more sloppy thrusts before long ropes of his sticky cum were beautifully decorating her inner walls, his thrusts fucking it deeper into her while he was slowly coming down from his own high.

Y/N was in full orgasmic bliss, her face flushed, her eyes glossed over, her once neatly done makeup running down her face as well as her face being all over the place. She was fully fucked out, making Spencer lean down and press a few loving kisses against her lips before he was pulling out and pushing himself to stand.

He disappeared off to the bathroom for a few moments, getting a warm bath ready for his girlfriend before heading back to the bedroom, a soft hum leaving his lips as he was carefully picking up his tired, fucked out partner.

“There we go. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He breathed, the woman letting her arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. She was still in the stage where she was crashing down from her high, so he was placing her gently in the warm tub before grabbing a washcloth.

As he was washing his girlfriend, he was looking up at her face once he could see the content smile on her face. “Hi,” He whispered, the two sharing a little giggle amongst each other. “Hi.” Y/N responded, leaning over to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I hope you know, I might be flirting with more people more often if this is the outcome.” She joked, making Spencer laugh.

“Like hell you are.”

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its-pip-art · 4 months

Text

Chokehold

Astarion x Tav (f)

Warnings: NSFW 18+, minors DNI, smut, blood, p in v sex, fingering, blood drinking, slight praise kink, slight pain/injury kink, porn with no plot

Summary: Astarion gets a little bit TOO into Abdirak's demonstration of torture on Tav in the Shattered Sanctum. Has to immediately steal her away and sort himself out

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes: I was going to write a whole fic about Astarion and my Tav, Antillia and this was one of the plot points, but I woke up this morning and wanted to write it. So if I ever get around to writing the fic I'll re-write this scene and add more delicious, angsty, lovey stuff into it - this is just bare-bones shit. Plus lack of character description in this makes me shake because I wanted to keep it as vague as possible so it's easier to project yourself/Tav into it.

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Astarion throbbed against the leather of his trousers, the once gentle want for her now burgeoning desperation. It was becoming painful. Each strike committed against her made him pulse with desire. His eyes followed the pretty rivulets of blood that escaped her broken skin. “Keep going.” He urged, doing everything he could not to moan her name.

Tav braced against the final strike and she could do nothing but yelp and tremble in the wake of it. She drew in ragged breaths in an attempt to calm herself.

“You have earned her love, sweet thing. Loviatar is so very impressed.”

Astarion watched Tav dangerously as she composed herself and thanked the man with an earnest smile (oddly misplaced, he thought, given the circumstances). The first moment after they stepped out of the room Astarion seized Tav’s wrist and dragged her off to the side. “We have to go.” He hissed.

Tav stared at him bewildered and with growing worry that her odd encounter with Abdirak had inadvertently caused trouble somewhere else in the sanctum, “is something wrong?” She could feel him shaking against her. She held his gaze, the brilliant red giving way to black, his pupils were so dilated…

Astarion held her arms, mostly to steady himself but it was all undone when the cool wet of her blood finally deigned to touch him. His eyes flickered shut from the exquisite sensation, and when they opened they were dark. The light started to disappear between the two of them as the distance closed. His body tipped towards her. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Tav lit red with the abruptness of proximity and his command. “Right now?” She asked in a hoarse whisper, but a wry smile broke through at the vulgar thrill of it. “The torture stuff got you going, didn’t it?” She felt fervour lighting within her when Astarion smiled at her, that dazzling smile.

“Immensely so.” Astarion whispered. He felt a little bit of comfort from the way she flushed, knowing that he was soon to get what he craved. He shot a glance over his shoulder, both Karlach and Shadowheart hadn’t gone with them into the priest's room, and for that, he was eternally thankful. He straightened up, clutched Tav’s wrist and began the search for a secluded room - a secret place for him to indulge wholly in his biting desire. He led Tav quietly and quickly through meandering passageways, leaving behind the thrum of the main hall until the sound became just a hum, and then, nothing.

Tav gazed around the silent room that was lit only by a few candles and she leaned against one of the sarcophagus’s, which eased the strain on her back greatly but did nothing to aid her mounting hunger. She watched Astarion pull various crates and large objects in front of the door to block it. “Is that necessary?” She was joking, and only a little concerned. But before she could utter another word he was between her legs grasping her throat, and the wind was well and truly knocked out of her.

Astarion’s expert fingers began to release the leather straps and laces that kept him from her deliciously soft skin. He eased the thick shirt off and his eyes danced over the crest of her shoulders, where he could see the beginnings of her wounds. “Show me.”

Tav’s skin stung with goosebumps at the demand and she turned her back on Astarion, her stomach twisting with pleasure at the gasp that came from him. She flinched at the coolness of his touch, one hand resting on her waist and the other carefully tracing the fresh lines in her back. “Ah-!” She gasped when the hot flat of his tongue dragged along her upper back. She felt a thump between her legs immediately and she braced herself against the hard stone tomb.

Astarion sighed with the instant gratification of her blood flooding his tastebuds - the most beguiling and richest of wines, and as always, utterly dizzying. He nudged his hips against her and his determined cock pressured his leathers once more. He tightened his grip on Tav’s waist, eliciting a strangled whine. Silently he guided her to face him, beguiled by the way she gazed at him…breathlessly wanton. “Darling…” he said so softly as his raptured gaze devoured her heaving chest, his fingers carefully tracing down her clavicle where old marks healed from their last tryst covered her supple breasts. He bent to kiss them, admiring how pillowy they were and how they juxtaposed his hardness so wonderfully.

Tav watched Astarion kiss and kneed at her, her brows knitted in a deep but pleasured frown as his teeth plucked at her stiff nipple. She raked her fingers through his wicked curls and guided his lips to hers, finally tasting him. The advance quickly deepened and she could feel his teeth teasing at her bottom lip, the weight and heat of his body pressed against her. A rough hand pulled her flush against him she could finally feel his tortured cock press against her stomach. As if he heard her plea she was lifted and perched atop the sarcophagus and his rigidness lined up perfectly with her wetness. She reached quickly into his trousers and gripped him, laughing into his kiss at the reaction. “Astarion…” She pressed her forehead against his as she began to work her hand up and down his shaft.

Astarion managed to steal a glance at her as she sighed out his name, the dim candlelight danced in her eyes and her skin was pricked with sweat already. He pulled quickly at her trousers and threw them behind him and he pushed her forcefully onto her back and he fucked his fingers into her, devouring her expression as she convulsed beneath him. “You are soaking, love.” He nipped mischievously at her jawline and slapped away her searching hand. “Not yet.” He warned.

Tav threw her head back and her back involuntarily arched as Astarion continued to viciously pump his fingers into her. She wanted to take control somehow. She considered her next move carefully, which was extremely difficult to do in her current situation, she could quite easily carry on as she was - he was excellent with his hands. But she wanted to be filled.

Once again she lulled Astarion’s lips to hers and held him in a kiss as she reached across herself to drench her fingers in her blood. She broke the kiss and slipped her fingers into his mouth and he groaned, clamping his lips around them and sucking. Tav felt her legs begin to shake from the sensation of her quickly building orgasm but she disrupted his rhythm and it receded. She took the chance to untangle herself and spin beneath him so that her bare arse pressed against his pulsating cock, she pushed back further and grinned when he moaned - an aching moan. “You said you wanted to fuck me,” she glowered over her shoulder at him, “so fuck me.”

Astarion could have finished there and then at the sight of her eclipsed by shadow - his shadow. His hunger for her grew, but not only that, the pleasure in denying light any access to her - he was greedy for all of the spaces it had touched in the past. He wanted the sun to envy him, to resent his sinful kisses, his decadent touches and his maddening caresses.

He pushed his fingers back inside of Tav briefly and used the wetness to lubricate himself with a few languid pumps. His rapacious hands rocked her onto him, setting a brutal pace. His scarlet eyes burned into her back at the redness of her skin, he felt no shame for the ecstasy her pain had brought him. For a moment the only sound other than their laboured breathing was the slapping of his hips against the meat of her arse, and if he wasn’t so offended by her silence he would have enjoyed watching her ripple in the wake of his thrusts. But Tav had a habit of being a nearly silent lover, mostly due to fear of being overheard - which did not line up with Astarion's depraved need to hear her scream his name. He took a fistful of her hair, wrapped his other hand beneath her torso and pulled her up so his lips could meet her ear. “We have a rare opportunity, love, you can howl and you won’t be heard.” He wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but he wanted her to sing, needed her to sing.

Tav shuddered against him as his nimble fingers closed around her throat. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and as Astarion had confirmed before, he was able to hear it. The first rumbles of vocal pleasure began to thrill out of her, slightly performative to begin with, but even those made Astarion rut harder against her, prompting a genuine and searing wail of pleasure. She was released back onto resting on her elbows, allowing her to drive some of the motion against him - the response of which made her keen loudly.

“That’s it,” Astarion growled in praise as he marauded every depth of her. “Good girl.” He sharply inhaled as Tav pounded back at him. He hunched over her, desperate to be as close to her as possible. He pushed his fingers into her mouth and when they were sufficiently sodden he took them to her folds and began to circle her throbbing clit. The reaction to which was a delicious buck of her hips that all but destroyed her grasp on control - he now had it back.

Tav grasped desperately for anything to hold onto to centre herself as Astarion mercilessly fucked her. Her skin was white hot and her vision was clouding. “A-Astarion-…” She managed shakily.

“Yes, love?”

Tav could feel the spread of heat in her stomach, the rope pulled taught. “I’m going to…” She couldn’t manage the last part, her lungs needed air and she was becoming delirious.

“What, darling? You’re going to what?” Astarion relished the way she writhed and reared against him, his fingers worked more ferociously now - agitating her further.

“Cum.” Tav choked out, “I’m going to cum.” She was burning up, searing. She could feel Astarion's hot breath on the back of her neck, his teeth seeking a spot to sink into her. And instantly it all fell apart, the rope snapped the moment he bit into her. “Gods, Astarion!” She cried and mumbled and mewled as her body succumbed to rhapsody.

Astarion drank from her blissfully, her clenching and undulating coupled with the exquisiteness of her blood tipped him over the edge and he emptied himself into her, his pace eventually slowing to a tired stop. He kissed the tip of her ear and nipped the lobe. “You’re a dream.” He sighed into her hair.

Tav laughed. “So are you.”

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