#its a strange feeling. to stop loving someone
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Persona
jihyo x gn reader
fluff, very unserious, suggestive (kinda), not proofread
wannabe player jihyo
You know it’s not the smartest idea, but it feels like it’s the only option to shake things up.
Nayeon’s been urging you all evening, saying, "Just get on a dating app, y/n. It’s easier to find someone who wants to hook up on there. And better yet, with no strings attached since you’re so allergic to falling in love and settling down."
You huffed and rolled your eyes. No need for her to be so… brutally honest. And so caved in. You downloaded the app and started scrolling through it. You swiped on pretty faces, ignoring those seeking long-term relationships, until one profile grabbed your attention.
Despite its douchy and fuckboy-ish vibe, you couldn’t help but be drawn to this person’s profile.
Jihyo.
Her photos showcased her with well-defined abs glistening under gym lights, another captured her in full hockey gear, while another showed her casually sporting a backward cap, adding a touch of laid-back douchiness.
Let’s not talk about her bio, which ew by the way… You cringed as you read it,
6’1 when I stand on my money.
ps: my couch pulls out, but I don’t when I’m strapped up👅💦
You gag at this but still swipe right. It’s clear she’s looking for the same casual fun as you are. And as expected, you both match, confirming your mutual interest in a no-strings-attached connection.
You begin texting Jihyo, and the conversations quickly become flirty, bordering on explicit. This back-and-forth continues for a week until Jihyo takes the initiative to set up a date to meet in person.
She suggests grabbing a quick bite at a fast food joint near her place. You find the idea crass and somewhat unappealing; after all, why bother with a lame meal when you could just head straight to her place for some action?
Nonetheless, you agree. Jihyo manages to sway you with another teasing message: “You’ll need energy if you wanna keep up with me, angel ;)”
The day arrives, and despite knowing it’s just a one-time thing, you find yourself oddly excited. You debate whether it’s worth dressing up for the occasion, knowing you’ll likely never see her again after tonight, but you make the effort anyway.
As you commute to the shitty fast food joint, a text from Jihyo pops up: “hey! I’m already here. I’m gonna be waiting for you at the bus stop, no rush :)”
You frown at first, but then a small smile creeps onto your face. It’s strange to receive such a normal and sweet text from her.
You feel a flutter in your stomach, but you quickly dismiss it. This is just a one-time thing, you remind yourself, as you gather your things to to hop off the bus.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, you glance around, expecting to spot Jihyo. However, she’s nowhere in sight until you hear your name being called. You look past the man who was hiding Jihyo, and as she steps forward, you realize she’s even shorter than you had imagined.
"I hope the ride here wasn’t too bad. Ready to eat?" She smiles wide, and you can't help but notice how much cuter she is in person than you had imagined.
You nod, following her into the restaurant. She walks with a pep in her step, and you can't help but admire how cute she looks in her baggy jeans, oversized shirt, and that damn backward hat. It's nothing like the pictures she had on her profile.
A cutie.
She orders and pays for both of you, and you can't help but slip out, "You must be really rich then."
She frowns, her lower lip popping out in a pout. "I mean-" she starts to explain, but you cut her off, "your bio. 6'1 when I stand on my money, remember?" You tease, then casually munch on your fries.
Her eyebrows arch in surprise, and a blush tinges her cheeks. "Gosh, I forgot about that. I’m sorry, it’s-"
"You’re cute."
Her blush deepens, and she adjusts her hat, offering you a shy smile.
As the conversation flows, you find yourself enjoying Jihyo’s company more than you expected. Her easygoing nature and genuine laughter put you at ease, and you start to forget about the initial awkwardness of the situation.
You notice her little quirks—the way she looks incredibly angry when she takes a delicious bite of her hamburger, that big smile that makes her eyes almost disappear, the way she gives you her full attention when you speak… It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the flutter in your stomach.
She then offers you to come over for some dessert, and you can't say no. After all, this is what you originally came for anyway.
The walk to her place is short, and when you arrive, you brace yourself for the typical "fuckboy" house—a mess, dishes piled in the sink, and a less-than-ideal bathroom. However, when she welcomes you inside, you're taken aback. The place is pristine and beautifully decorated. You start to wonder if her dating profile was all just a facade.
You prepare yourself for the "dessert" as she instruct you to get comfortable. Taking a seat on the couch, you anticipate what's to come, but to your surprise, she returns with a tray to the coffee table in the center of the living room. The tray has an array of treats—brownies, cookies, and mochi—and hold up, are they homemade too!?
"I’ve made them for you! For tonight! Have a taste!" She says with pride, her smile wide and chest puffed out.
You take a cookie and bite into it, moaning at the delicious taste. It's so good that you kind of want to murder her for being such a good baker, but also for messing up your flow.
You guys should’ve been in bed by now.
She flops beside you, still smiling. “It’s so good,” you remark, savouring the last bite of the cookie.
“Yeah? I’m glad you like it, wasn’t sure what you were gonna be into,” she says, her eyes fixed on you.
As you meet her gaze, you sink further into the cozy couch. She removes her hat, allowing her curls to cascade, and you're taken aback by her beauty.
She runs her fingers through her hair before settling in, her arm draped over the back of the couch, hand supporting her chin. She continues to watch you, and you feel your cheeks flush under her gaze.
"I don’t think I’ve had the chance to tell you how beautiful you are, y/n," Jihyo says softly, her eyes scanning your face.
She bites the inside of her cheek and briefly lets her eyes drift down to take you all in. You smile shyly, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. Perhaps the "fuckboy" from her profile is finally making an appearance now.
Your hands sink into her sofa, and you hum, "This isn’t a pull out couch."
Jihyo’s eyes linger on yours, a teasing glint dancing in them.
"Never owned a pull out couch," she responds, her tone low and suggestive, "but I do have the strap."
You roll your eyes, but the shiver that runs down your spine betrays your true feelings. She smiles softly again, her gaze locked with yours as you edge closer to her.
"You're too crude, Jihyo. It’s not charming," you tease, allowing your fingers to trace a pattern along her arm, the tension between you growing.
"I may be crude, but hey, having a pretty person right beside me makes up for it, don't you think?" she whispers, edging closer. Her breath grazes your lips, igniting a surge of excitement within you.
And then, with a delicate touch, her lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The sensation is electric, your body melting into the moment as you get lost in the softness of her lips against yours.
A shared breath and she gives another kiss, deeper than the last. Her lips press against yours with a newfound urgency. You feel the softness of her touch as her hands slide to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer.
A soft moan escapes your lips in response to the sensation, and she pulls back, breathless, her eyes locking with yours as the intensity of the moment hangs in the air.
“Y/n,” she starts, her voice gentle as she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “I know we’re both into the one-night stand thing, but I think I like you more than I should. And I know you should’ve been on your third orgasm by now, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to sleep with you unless we go on, at least, two proper dates.”
You stare at her, surprised by her honesty. The air between you is charged with tension as you process her words. Despite the initial intentions of this encounter, you can’t deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with her.
Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you reach out and gently cup her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin. “Jihyo,” you say softly, “I feel the same way. I’d like that.”
A smile spreads across her face, relief evident in her eyes. “Really?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Really,” you confirm, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her lips. It’s a promise of what’s to come—a beginning rather than an end.
A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she leans back against the couch, holding your hand tightly.
“Let’s watch TV and finish the sweets?” she proposes, her voice tinged with shyness.
You smile warmly at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Sounds perfect,” you say, feeling a rush of affection for her. “But I need the backstory behind that insane dating profile of yours.”
Jihyo chuckles, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Oh, that,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Well, you see, I had a phase where I was tired of all the boring conversations on dating apps. So, I decided to spice things up a bit and I may have gone a little overboard with the whole ‘fuckboy’ persona.”
You giggle, intrigued by her. “It definitely caught my attention,” you admit.
She smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I may have exaggerated a bit,” she confesses. “But hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
“Definitely,” you agree, squeezing her hand affectionately. “But I’m glad to see the real you now.”
With a warm smile, Jihyo leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. “Me too,” she whispers, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
"However, I do give the best strap. No one can beat me to that and I mean it when I say I don’t pull out and-"
"Ew, you’re crude Jihyo!" you exclaim, playfully scolding her with a mock grimace.
Jihyo lets out a hearty laugh, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Hey, just keeping it real, sweetheart."
You may not be allergic to falling in love after all.
#twice x reader#twice imagines#kpop imagines#gg x reader#twice scenarios#gg imagines#twice smut#jihyo x reader
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#sometimes realizing you no longer like someone when theyre now far away is much too difficult to accept#it surprises me how much of the love i had for friends simply came undone and vanished the moment we parted ways#its a strange feeling. to stop loving someone#to grow indifferent to their lives#i think it bears a heavier feeling in my heart than having followed on opposite paths due to anger or misunderstanding#indifference always plays a role on how significant it is to suddenly now be insignificant to someone else#or to see a (once) loved one as more than just. one that exists#it hurts to know that i was probably not built for long term love#maybe there is something wrong with that statement#or maybe not#but its still strange at how this hollowness gnaws at me#why should i feel bad for something that isnt there anymore#i think maybe thats not really the right question#i think that. its not the mourning of what you lost#but of what you once held so dearly and now doesnt even seem to be able to grasp - no matter how hard you try#its not the item itself you mourn for#but the clear off-putting feeling of its absence through the memories of its presence in the past#like when something gathers up enough dust on a shelf#and once you take it out theres a mark of where it used to be#the only part of the shelf untouched by the layers of dust#now open to be filled again - yet never again with the same thing#i honestly dont know how to express this#ive just been thinking a Lot about this recently#maybe a couple of weeks by now#maybe it was proximity the only thing that held us together#and maybe it was our opposite thinking that entertained us#but did not necessarily mean we were friends because we liked each other or the knowledge we had available to share#maybe the proximity and every day life rotine just made ourselves relatable to one another. and that made a sort of connection#and there is still love in whatever this is#but the likeness of it all was just simply gone the minute they left
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I made it look like my gf told someone to seethe and cope over slur discourse how's everypony else doing tonight
I guess I wrote most of my thoughts in the notes oops
#I feel bad atm#But its a bit strange going into someone's inbox to day you can't use the word lesbo#Like.#I hate being called a faggot or fag#But I know lots of people who love it and fully use it#So just seeing the word is whatever#Like I get that its a slur and in general don't use slurs towards someone if they don't want it yknow#Some people hate the term queer and I'll not call them queer but I'll be dead in the grave before someone stops me from#Using that word#People on the internet reclaiming slurs and you seeing it isn't an us problem thats more a you not using the app well at that point#Filter words out you hate seeing its not that hard#And don't get mad at dykes and lesbos for using terms they love#I'll reiterate what I said in that post but in a nicer way:#People and culture shape words and not the other way around#Words will be altered slightly and new words will be made and language will evolve#If you hate a word for past meanings and you hate it- cool! Don't use the word and ask people to not call you it/use it if you're around#But don't go around asking people on the internet to not use the word because it used to be something different#And no stuff like gay/trans panic is NOT something people can use#Because it is STILL used in the world to actively hurt queer people for bullshit defenses in courts#Queer isn't some sort of active thing being used to literally get people absolved of murdering queer people#But trans and gay panic are#There's a difference.
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Drop the towel wrapped around you and appear naked in front of your Genshin husband
In a nutshell: That old tiktok challenge/prank. In your private, shared home of course.
Warnings: My perpetual warning as a writing mother is that I am sleep deprived. Very VERY sleep deprived. SUGGESTIVE: BORDERING ON NOT SAFE FOR WORK, written on a 10 minute timer please be gentle
Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, implied fem!reader
Personal Favourites: Tighnari
Aether
chokes on nothing
"Y-Y-Y/N?! What're you doing?"
Comes up to you and tries to cover you up with the towel again, as if it was a sin to look at you naked in broad daylight.
Full on blush on his face and respectfully tries to look away.
"Don't surprise me like that!"
Seems not to like it but actually likes it too much to the point of getting embarrassed for himself.
Yes he's your husband but is still a precious respectful man
Albedo
Blinks a couple of times but appreciates your beauty and gives your body a slow once over. Chuckles in amusement afterwards.
"Is there a reason for this?"
Just to get his reaction, you admit.
"Well..." starts walking towards you. "I do have higher self-control than most others... but let it be known that I'm far from immune to my..."
Stops in front of you and yet again seems to eat you up with his eyes. "...needs," ends with a suspiciously sweet smile.
Alhaitham
Can't help but be a bit surprised and you can see it by the way his eyebrows go up as soon as the towel hits the floor.
Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, as if hesitating, which is really strange for someone like him.
"...Is this the part where I sweep you off your feet and carry you to our room?" there's a bit of amusement in his tone. Stands to walk over to you.
Places a hand on your waist.
"Cause I can guarantee you that we DON'T need to be in our bedroom for things to happen...but you knew that already, right?"
Ayato
Quirks his eyebrows up, amused smile appearing on his face.
"I must say, this is a lovely surprise,"
Traces your figure with his eyes. Then approaches you to hold your waist and dip in to kiss your neck softly.
"How could I ever resist, my love, when you're standing in front of me in all your magnificence?"
Takes the longest time just admiring and basking in your beauty, tracing every little part of your skin.
Baizhu
Lets pretend the snake ain't here okay?
Does a double take.
"Y/N, first off, you'll get a cold,"
Pushes his spectacles up and gives you a once over.
"Second, you'll give me a heart attack,"
Beckons you over gently with his hand. "Come over, I suppose it's been a while since...I've done a full body check,"
Hides a grin.
Cyno
Blankly looks at you and is still processing what is happening
"Y/N? Is this... Did I do something?"
Is so suspicious that this was some kind of trap.
You tell him its simply to get a reaction out of him.
Immediately shoots out of his seat and catches your wrist.
"Then...Is it my turn to get one out of you? There's several ways to do that...and I know your favourite ones,"
Diluc
Eyes follow the towel down to the floor and head snaps back up to blink at the sight in front of him. Recovers quickly.
Chuckles as he stands and walks over. Picks up the towel and drapes it around your shoulders. "Only because it's quite chilly tonight,"
but still ends up inching the towel off your shoulder, tracing your collarbone. "Although, as your husband, I suppose it IS my job to keep you warm... So how would you like it today, love?"
Itto
"WHOA!" by instinct covers his eyes with his hands but his fingers are actually splayed apart so he can totally see through the gaps
Feels himself getting aroused
I mean the guy gets turned on even just at the sight of your neck
Suddenly stands and walks over to you, easily hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and makes a beeline to your shared room.
"You're asking for it Y/N!"
Kaeya
"Oho?"
Sits back and relaxes, he doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some type of show maybe. "What's this? Finally giving me that lap dance you owe me, snowflake?"
Laughs but you're incredibly flustered at the suggestion.
Beckons you over and grabs you by the waist to sit on his lap.
"Feel that?" he whispers in your ear.
Oh you feel it alright, pressing at your upper thigh.
"Now whose fault is that? You'll have to do something about it now, love,"
Kaveh
"Archons!"
Looks away with a blush on his cheeks.
"Put something on!"
Yes he's seen you naked before, you're married, but the guy's always flustered in unexpected events.
You provoke him further by coming over, sitting sideways on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Y/N!" He looks down at you and can't help but look at your nakedness in full and close view.
Gulps but starts to feel his body heat up, his hands suddenly, assertively planting themselves on your waist as he meets your eyes. "I don't care what you say about yourself, but know that you're the only one who takes me from 0 to a 100 in a second,"
Kazuha
"Y/N?" Chuckles nervously and takes in the sight of your body.
Smiles at you and takes your hand to kiss the back of it.
"I've seen you countless of times... Each time, I'm reminded by how fortunate I am that you chose me to take care of you,"
Caresses your cheek all the way down to your jawline. "You're beautiful, Y/N,"
He has the most tender and gentle look on his face, but its mixed with a passion that you've never seen on anyone before. "Let me show you how much I love you, dear,"
Neuvillette
Eyebrows twitches upwards in surprise. Has no clue what to do in this new situation.
He doesn't say anything but is most definitely enjoying the view of your body. You see his jaw tense up, as if he's clenching his teeth.
"Ahem," he starts. Then seems to have the most trouble prying his eyes away to meet your gaze. "Is this...perhaps another way to tell me... that you would like some attention?"
You say not really and just wanted to see how he would react.
"Ah," he lets out, as if understanding and as if the conversation has ended.
A moment of silence passes and you're starting to wonder if that was all he was going to do. But he then stands and places a gentle hand on your bare waist. "...So you're simply doing it, as people would say, 'for fun'?"
He asks, and you say yes innocently. He smiles a bit and has another hand cupping your face and thumbing your lips. "I see," breathes out slowly.
"Unfortunately, for your actions, the Iudex feels that a punishment is in order,"
Scaramouche
Raises one eyebrow as if he's bored. Then smirks.
"If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask," pulls you by the waist and makes you straddle him "But this is good too,"
Hands actually start to grope you up and down. Will fondle and squeeze in private places immediately.
"What? Startin' to feel good? S'what you get when you play games with me,"
will smack your butt the first chance he gets
Tartaglia
Immediately jumps up and in an automatic daze, eyes glued to his favourite parts, trudges towards you and attempts to bury himself in softness.
You quickly stop him and in turn HE quickly stops you. Hands easily bunching your wrists up together and angling them upwards above your head.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he grins down at you. "Someone's being naughty,"
You complain that he reacts too fast.
Laughs, but his hand starts to unbuckle his pants and there's a dark look in his eyes. "Oh, I'm just being naughty back. When you want something, Y/N, believe it when I say I'll GIVE it to you,"
Tighnari
ear twitches. Tail swishes back and forth. Does not show any expression except slight curiosity.
"What's the occasion?"
You tell him that you just wanted to see his reaction.
He hums and nods slowly, like processing some type of complicated information.
"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute,"
You ask him where he's going and you're a bit upset at the lack of response from him.
He chuckles and returns to you, tail angling upwards in an attempt to wrap and brush against your waist. Takes your hand, presses your wrist against his lips and seems to take a slow breath in.
"I'm merely clearing off my schedule for today. Now, be patient, I'll be back,"
Wriothesley
Almost spits out his drink but gulps it all down instead.
Eyes widen a fraction at the sudden act but his hand is already loosening his tie.
"Wait right there precious," chuckles while he says this, tie already falling to the ground, now unbuttoning his vest. At the same time walks over to you urgently as if you're going to disappear but laughs nervously while he's at it.
"I swear you'll be the death of me,"
Looks like he's going to pounce on you but when he reaches you he only gives you a chaste kiss, as if asking for permission first.
You suddenly remind him that he has a LOT of things to do today, appointments and all.
Actually barks out a quick laugh. "You're not really expecting me to walk out now? As far as I'm concerned," pulls you flush against him and kisses your jaw "The only thing I need to do today is you,"
Xiao
"Wh-Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"
caught unprepared. Crosses his arms and looks away. Pretends he's uninterested but his eyes still dart back to look at you.
You ask him if he likes what he sees.
He now completely looks away from you. A few seconds pass and when he turns his head back to look at you there's now a carnal look in his eyes.
He walks towards you slowly and captures your chin to tilt it up. Looks down at you as if he hasn't eaten a meal in days.
"...When I'm done with you tonight you'll get your answer,"
Zhongli
Chuckles. Amused.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?"
You shrug and even do a turn for him. He watches you carefully and takes in the image in front of him.
Smiles and strides over towards you. "Truly a magnificent sight," brushes his fingers against your neck
His eyes trail downwards and isn't shy about looking at your body. "Might I remind you my dear, my stamina surpasses that of a normal human," he smiles at you sincerely.
You tell him that you're well aware. He just chuckles again.
"Then you know well what'll come next,"
End
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#genshin fluff#zhongli x reader#genshin impact#headcanons#ayato x reader#scaramouche x reader#neuvillette x reader#wriothesley x reader#cyno x reader#diluc x reader#childe x reader#tighnari x reader#alhaitham x reader#kaeya x reader#kaveh x reader
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FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan
description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.
includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak
wc: 5.8k+
a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.
Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill.
It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path.
You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same.
When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections.
It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god.
That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls.
Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear.
Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight.
You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks.
“Hey.”
You stop.
Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other.
That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be.
Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all.
But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth.
Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke.
Strangely enough, it’s inviting.
You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting.
You step into the cabin and close the door behind you.
“Hey, Luke.”
He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too.
You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance.
Luke stares at you.
The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.
He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful.
You should leave.
You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone.
Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal.
Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot.
“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin.
The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity.
Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive.
You tell him as such.
This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative.
“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.”
Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more.
“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.”
You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together.
Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way.
How comfortable it feels. How protective it is.
You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more.
In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company.
It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer.
Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner.
(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)
He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach.
“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him.
(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)
Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words.
Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar.
Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them.
You focus back on Luke.
“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.”
The bedroom.
Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces.
This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left.
So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing.
But it’s wrong.
He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again.
“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.”
A moment passes. And then another.
You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color.
Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again.
“Why won’t you join me?”
His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful.
Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him.
“Because it’s not right, Luke.”
When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words.
“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?”
Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you.
“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice.
“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.”
“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.”
That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back.
He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back.
“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?”
His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty.
“He attacked first.”
Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ”
“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.”
“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?”
“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.”
“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.”
“Okay.”
Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you.
Either way, your reply is the same as his.
“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door.
Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together.
You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened.
Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken.
“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.”
He doesn’t add on. You don’t move.
“And how do I feel?”
The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow.
As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him.
“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”
When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose.
Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours.
There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually.
Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh.
His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load.
He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t.
He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t.
His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek.
While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal.
There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again.
When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack.
“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw.
He hums, his eyes still shut.
“I want you,” you admit.
You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul.
“Took you long enough to admit it.”
You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep.
“Don’t be an asshole about it.”
He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.”
He takes a moment.
When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with.
“You have me. Always have. Always will.”
You’re quick to surge forward.
Luke is quick to reciprocate.
This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees.
His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him.
It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.
You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there.
You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room.
His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs.
If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position.
You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen.
“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light.
You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do.
It’s strange what desire could make you do.
You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.
But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions.
As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything.
You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do.
Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch.
The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit.
He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud.
Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied.
Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks.
Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening.
He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting.
“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips.
You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again.
Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.
You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time.
He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound.
He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time.
And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion.
As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side.
Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen.
You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips.
Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes.
He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs.
You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue.
But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it.
Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times.
There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself.
As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum.
“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.”
You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean.
Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter.
You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste.
You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone.
He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs.
Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences.
“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit.
“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other.
“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him.
And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him.
You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you.
His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be.
Just existing.
After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily.
None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke.
When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms.
Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone.
“Can I have you? Just one final time?”
He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you.
The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong.
But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar.
You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place.
And truthfully, you don’t think he did.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent.
“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him.
He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck.
Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right.
Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better.
There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge.
He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape.
He was more.
It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods.
For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both.
A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke.
But there’s nothing for you to do about it now.
You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back.
You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop.
“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.
‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will.
Either way, you’re forced to change yours.
You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone.
The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it.
“This is it?”
You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief.
It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back.
Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door.
“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.”
And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape.
Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs.
The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there.
You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
#writeblr#warm up#my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky#i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles#yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help#for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT#and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen#than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say#''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help#i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.''#bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't#actually offer fair support to everyone#we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less.#and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help#bc i DID have it better than other people#and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help.#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn#instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself
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can i pleaseee request a dark!ghostface!ethan landry x reader where the reader doesn’t know ethan is ghostface and she looses him at a party so she stumbles around tipsy trying to find him calling out his name when suddenly someone dressed as ghost face approaches and starts walking beside her making very sketchy and personal questions (its ethan but obviously reader doesn’t know 🙄) ultimately leading to a chase and she gets home thinking shes safe and suddenly he ambushes reader and ‘spice occurs’ (idk) and then shes like “no! i need ethan!” and he gets …turned on… and asks about himself iykwim . pls base it off of that 😭
holy shit i love this … ethan’s gonna feel so fucking smug about reader needing him heh
tell me more — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : being attacked by ghostface leads to strange questions about ethan. ethan being behind the mask grows more and more turned on the more you say.
contents : just filthy, slight dub con, unprotected sex. wc 2.9k
You down another red solo cup. But as no more liquid falls down your throat, your brows begin to furrow. You pull the cup away to see no more alcohol sloshing inside.
“Ethan,” you turn. “Can you get me another—”
You stop, not seeing the curly haired boy behind you. You spin. Or beside you. “Ethan?” You call, your tone tipsy, over the rowdy students, all enjoying the party.
You step, but sway as you grab the wall. A giggle escapes you as you nearly knock shoulders with a passing couple. “Sorry.”
You go back to looking for Ethan, who had been by your side the entire party up till now. “Ethan?” You drag out the syllables as you squint your eyes. “Where are you?” You mutter under your breath.
“Y/n?”
You spin, seeing Chad. “Chad!” You exclaim. “Have you seen Ethan?”
Chad chuckles at your slightly slurring words. You put your hands on your hips, as you wait for his response.
Chad shakes his head. “Last I saw, he was with you.”
You sigh, turning back to stare through the house party.
“You alright?” Chad asks. You nod in response.
“I’m fine, you go…go back to…whatever you were doing.” You walk away, gazing around.
“Ethan—oh.” You bump into someone, and as you glance up to apologise you pause, seeing the white face of Ghostface.
You narrow your eyes, stepping back, swaying a fraction. “Excuse me.” You say, walking past them.
As you try to continue your search, you feel a presence beside you. Glancing to your left, you see Ghostface, black cloak and all, walking alongside you. “What— who are you? You know, its not a great costume.” You continue slowly walking through the crowd.
“Is it not?” The baritone voice of Ghostface asks.
“Hey!” You slightly slur. “Where did you find one of those modulators? I’ve been trying to find one.” You pause. “To try it out, not because…I uh, kill people. I don’t kill people.”
Your blurting out anything on your mind, and Ghostface just tilts he head as he observe you.
“You know, you could have been more original. Everyone dresses up…as Ghostface.” You say, slightly poking his chest.
“And how do you know I’m dressing up?”
You pause. “Well…” you blink, trying to screw your head on straighter.
“How do you know I’m not the real Ghostface.” He whispers, the low voice sending shivers down your spine.
“Uh…your at a house party?” As if that would prove your point.
“You don’t think Ghostface goes to house parties?”
“I mean not to party,” you say, slightly growing wearier. “…obviously.”
“Is that what you do—party?” Ghostface asks.
“Of course!” You say, stumbling a bit. “I always go to parties. Usually with—oh!” You exclaim, glancing around.
“Have you seen a boy with curly brown hair, and a cute smile?” You ask Ghostface.
“What’s his name?”
“Ethan.” You nod, squinting your gaze on the crowd again. “He disappeared.”
“A cute smile?” Ghostface inquires.
“Yes.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Now get looking.”
You walk farther into the hallway, where it appears quieter and darker, away from the fluorescent lights. “Ethan?”
Then you feel a breath by your ear. “You seem desperate.”
You spin, seeing Ghostface. “Don’t do that, your making me think your actually a creepy killer.” You whisper. Alcohol still buzzed in your system, but you could feel it begin to ebb away as you stared at the silent, eerie figure.
“Mr. Ghostface?” You ask, since they hadn’t answered you. “Or Mrs.”
You then see something glint against the hanging hallway light. Something metal, in Ghostfaces grip.
“What—” you cut yourself off, staring at it. The threat suddenly clicks in your brain, as you whip your gaze back up to Ghostface’s mask. He begins to step closer, and you stumble slightly back.
You look around and realise how alone you are. Ghostface is blocking the way back to the party. You glance behind you and see the front door. Without thinking, you run to it, turning the handle and rushing outside.
This house was thankfully not a far walk from your apartment. And as you glance back to see Ghostface following you, you hurry your steps.
Your growing soberer by the second, as the cold air hits your face, and the looming danger of getting stabbed makes your pulse quicken. You can hear steps pick up behind you, making you hurry yours in turn.
You’re soon nearing your apartment, and wondering why Ghostface hasn’t caught you yet, you weren’t that much of a fast runner. Was it genuinely some joke?
You spare a glance behind you to see no one. You don’t slow though. Carrying up to your door, whipping it open and locking it.
You breathe heavy as you back up into your apartment, switching the lights on. “Fuck, that better have been a joke.” You mutter, feeling almost stupid for freaking out.
“I’m afraid it wasn’t.” The low voice makes you spin. There stands Ghostface in your kitchen, the signature tilt to his head.
You should have grabbed a knife. You rush farther into your apartment as you try to reach for a room, but Ghostface is quick to intercept, grabbing you and yanking you towards him.
You scream, trying to get out of his grip. “Shh.” He whispers against your ear, as your back presses against his front.
“No, get the fuck off me!” You exclaim harshly.
“Did you end up finding your friend?”
“You know that I didn’t.” You hiss back, as you continue to struggle.
Ghostface chuckles, right by your ear. His grip wraps around you, one of his hands on your stomach, as he stands flush against you.
You gulp. Ethan, god, you hope he was okay. “You didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?”
“Hurt my friend.”
Behind the mask Ethan’s grin is growing. He had wanted a little fun, and seeing you scared and running gave him a rush, one that went straight to his dick. You seemed so concerned for you “friend”. Your cute little question on if he hurt…well…himself, made this all the more enjoyable.
“You seem, so concerned.” He probes. The feeling of you against him, has his voice dropping, even deeper than the modulator originally is, as his sentence husks out.
“Of course I’m concerned.” You say, trying to keep your fear from being prominent in your voice. “I wouldn’t want him hurt, or worse killed.”
Ethan’s gloved hand spreads wider across your stomach, keeping you from running away. He rests his chin on your shoulder, making you stiffen. “Ethan, right?”
You gulp. “Yes. Please don’t hurt my friends, don’t hurt him.”
Ethan is growing more turned on, by your tone of worry. You cared so much for him, and Ethan could tell. Fuck, he liked you like this. He wanted to know more.
“You care about him, don’t you?”
“Yes.” You say, very aware of the knife still in his grasp.
“How much?” Ethan hisses.
“A-a lot.”
“Oh? Why do you care about him—a lot?”
“He’s always been a good friend.” You say, your breathing mismatched.
“Is that all?”
“No. He’s also quite cute.” Your spewing answers in hopes that Ghostface won’t kill you. But you know how foolish that notion is.
“Is he? What’s cute about him?” Ethan asks, licking his lips.
“His uh, face.”
“That’s a bit generic.”
“Also his hands, I like his hands.” In response Ethan, drags his hand lower down your stomach making you slightly arch into him. Your wearing a pretty little skirt, that him as Ethan couldn’t look at for too long. But him as Ghostface could do whatever he wants.
“Why?” God, Ethan was getting hard. Being this close to you, and hearing your praising words is sending heat through him.
“Um, their big and…I like how they feel.”
Fuck, Ethan is breathing hard. He pulls you closer to him, making you gasp. “What else?”
“H-he um.” You gulp. “His hair. I like his hair. I always want to run my fingers through it.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because that would be weird.” You two were friends, you felt it would cross that line. Though as you begin think about all these things about him, your starting to feel butterflies slowly swarm your stomach. Did you “like like” Ethan?
“I don’t think so. It’s a friendly thing to do.”
You hold back a scoff. “I’m not taking any sort of advice from you.”
Ghostface—Ethan—chuckles. “But I’m being honest. I’m sure he’d love if you ran your pretty fingers through his hair. Maybe he might slide his hand to rest on your thigh.” Ethan slowly brings his hand further down your body, to stop on your thigh, your skirt slightly scrunching up.
You shudder at the shift. Fear and adrenaline coursing through you. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”
“You sound so sure.” Wouldn’t do that?—Ethan thinks to himself. No. He’d do a lot more. He has the urge to track back up your thigh, this time under your skirt. But he wants to drag this out a little longer.
“Let’s say he did do that. How would you react?”
“Why are you asking me this—”
His grip hardens on your thigh making you shut up.
You gulp. “I would probably move closer. To reach his hair better.”
“And how would you feel?”
“I would feel…hot.”
“Where?”
“What?” Your mind is running wild as thoughts of Ethan swarm your brain.
“Where would you feel hot?” Fuck, Ethan was growing agitated. He could feel his cock throb. The pressure of his pants made sure you didn’t feel him through the long cloak.
“Um.” Your voice shakes a fraction. “In my…stomach.”
“Here?” Ethan wanders back to your stomach and taps his fingers against the material if your top.
“Y-yes.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan’s gloved hand goes lower, making your breath hitch. “Not here?” It’s a ghost of a touch. But you feel it, his finger brushing across your clothed pussy. You shudder against him. You were hot. Exactly where he said.
“Do you know how Ethan would feel?” Ghostface—Ethan—asks.
“No.”
“He would feel desperate.” Ethan’s voice comes off breathy through the modulator. “So, desperate.”
You shudder at the thought, even more so as Ghostface brings his hand under your shirt, still staying by your stomach.
“Do you like Ethan?” Ethan could tell you felt something for him, but if you were in denial than you wouldn’t make a move. But now with this information he doesn’t mind stepping up. Cause he really did want to feel your hands running through his hair.
“I—” you breath.
“Yes?” Ethan eagerly asks.
“A…little bit. Yeah. Yeah, I kind of do.”
Ethan grins behind the mask, as his grip tightens around you. You fit against him so nicely.
“Well, what a lucky guy.” He almost chuckles to himself.
“Are you going to stab me?” You finally ask. What was with all this talking? You should be dead.
“Do you think I will?”
You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“But I want to hear more about your crush.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“…yes.”
Ethan holds back a groan of slight annoyance. “I want to know what you’d let him to do you.”
You blanch. “W-what?”
“I want to know where you’d let him touch you.”
Your suffocating on air. “Would you let him touch here?” He brushes away your hair with his knife to reach your neck, making you shiver. “Would you?”
“I’d…like that.”
Ethan holds back a moan at you letting him—wanting him to touch you.
“Where else?” Ethan continues. “Here?” He grazes down your chest, just above your breasts.
“P-probably.”
“Mmm.” Ethan lowly hums as his gloved hand travels down the top covered valley between your breasts, skirting over your bra.
Your immobile, because there’s a tension growing between your legs, that is making you concerned for your mental health. Ghostface was touching you—almost touching you and you were feeling hot.
Ethan glides his hand all the way until he reached the edge of your skirt, pausing. You gulp, holding down a whine as you press your thighs together. What the hell was wrong with you?
“Would you let him touch here?” He harshly breathes out, as grabs your pussy, making you jolt. He’s touching your panties, hand under your skirt, as he begins to rub. “Yeah? You’d want him to touch you here?”
Your breathing is choppy as he continues to rub up and down, going harder over your clit, making you shudder.
Ethan then wraps his other arm across your chest, bringing you impossibly closer, as he listens to you trying to hide your whimpers. Fuck, you sounded so pretty. Slowly falling apart in his arms.
He was rock hard, and growing desperate. Feeling your pussy over your panties was quickly not enough, as he slips past them, his gloved fingers reaching your wetness. Ethan grins. You were soaked. All for him and his game.
“Are you wet for Ethan or me?” Ethan holds back chuckling at the fact that there’s not a wrong answer.
“E-Ethan.”
But he certainly liked that answer a little better. “You just want to feel his big hands fingering you, don’t you?”
“Oh— fuck.” You choke as he pushes a single finger inside you.
Ethan keeps his other arm across you, his knife loosely in his grip. He keeps wanting to pull you closer, so that your ass completely pressed against his throbbing cock. He had to feel more of you.
He adds another finger as a whimper escapes your lips, making Ethan smile. “That’s right.” He whisper-hisses. “I bet you’ve dreamt of him.”
“Uh huh.” You manage as he thrusts his fingers repeatedly into you.
“Your so cute having little dreams about Ethan. I’m sure you touched yourself. Having woken up horny,and needy.”
“S-shit.” You stutter as his fingers pick up pace, thrusting in and out, in and out. The glove material inside you feels foreign but oh so, good.
“You need him, don’t you.” Ghostface says to your ear. “Don’t you?” Ethan has grown incredibly desperate, as the thought of you wanting him—needing him feels like an orgasm in itself.
“I do.” Your head falls slightly back as pleasure rocks through you. “Ethan…” You moan out.
Ethan finally cracks, pushing you against the wall, as he discarded his knife. He presses himself into you as he finally feels his clothed dick press against your sensitive pussy. You jolt as you feel him, his hands wandering your body, cupping your breasts under you shirt.
“Holy shit.” Ethan breathes as his mask grows hot. He wanted to kiss you. Is it worth taking off the mask?
In response to his silent question to himself, he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside as he stays pressed to you.
You watch as Ethan’s signature curls come into view. Your mouth hangs open in shock. Both at him as Ghostface and at what you had revealed. You had said so much about him, about how wet you were for him.
Your eyes are blown wide and Ethan can’t hold back anymore, smashing his lips against yours. You gasp through the kiss as Ethan plays with your tongue, lapping at your mouth as he moans.
“Ethan…” you manage to say as he unclips your bra, yanking it away. “I didn’t know it was you.” He’s kissing your neck, biting at the sensitive skin, as he begins to grind into you.
He licks your neck making a shiver run down your spine. “I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Ethan kisses you again, as your head hits back against the wall. He licks your top lip. “You should have told me.”
“I didn’t— I wasn’t sure…if—”
“I felt the same?” Ethan guesses as he brings his hand around your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around him. He rips your panties clean off as you gasp. Your skirt is bunched up by your hips. “Well, now you know I really fucking do.”
Ethan reaches for his belt with his other hand, under his cloak. Pushing the dark material aside he brings out his cock, extremely hard and ready.
He pushes the tip into you as your fingers reach for his hair.
“I told you.” Ethan breathes against your open mouth. He pushes further into you as you choke a moan. “I’d love it if your fingers were through my hair. And look,” Ethan pauses to grip your thigh tighter, pulling you closer, as he sinks completely into you. “My hand is on your thigh.”
He thrusts into you, his mouth beginning to open over your own, you both panting as your bodies clash.
“Oh—f-fuck. You feel so…” he can’t even finish his sentence as he continues to thrust, his dick filling you up, as you grow more and more dazed.
“You looked so fucking cute wandering around looking for me.” Ethan says between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Cute.” He moans before kissing you. Both your tongues meet each other sloppily, as the thrusting becomes the same.
Pleasure is through your entire body, as ethan grabs at your waist, fingers digging into your skin. You felt and smelt so nice. “Christ, y/n.”
He bites your jaw as your highs draw close. “Your always gonna need me.” He now grabs your jaw between his fingers. “You hear me? You won’t need anyone else.” He kisses you hard, before whispering against your lips. “Nobody else. Only me.”
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#. ( archived )#the ethan effect#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x you#ethan landry#jack champion x reader#jack champion smut#jack champion#jack champion x y/n#scream smut#scream#scream 6
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— "𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱!!" ♥
:feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, scaramouche x gn!reader:
⤷ synopsis: ah, poor reader's crush won't notice them!! the solution? ask your guy friend to pretend to be your partner, and perhaps that'll get them jealous... except-!?
⤷ cw: fluff, highschool!au, possesive + overprotectiveness, ykyk the whole package
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123
"C'mon, just for one week...?"
"Have you finally gone mad?"
XIAO's words come out as more of a scoff, if anything. You can see the way that his expression forms a scowl that he's less than pleased at your suggestion. "You want me to fake date you for a week?"
Sheepish, you nod. "...Please?"
"Because you want your 'crush' to get jealous?" You don't get why he's put that in quotations, but you nod along, slightly confused. Xiao's expression only darkens, for some inexplicable reason. What, have you done something to offend him?
Desperate, you recall your last resort. "Well," you begin, voice unsteady as you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. With a shrug, you sigh. "If you're not willing, I can always find someone e-"
"I'll do it."
Ah, there was the Xiao you knew. Aloof, yes. Cold, yes. But not willing to admit he was inferior to anyone - especially when it regarded you.
So there, your plan was complete. Act like Xiao was your boyfriend, and then maybe they would finally notice you… except, why do you get the feeling that Xiao was forgetting his purpose?
It’s not anything major, not by a long shot, but you find it strange how he’s suddenly grown so clingy, as if pretending to be your partner somehow enhanced the relationship between the two of you. He walks you to every one of your classes, and insists on coming over to your house for study sessions, and while you don’t particularly dislike it, it is awkward, seeing him act so intimate even with no eyes watching.
But… this was all normal, right? He was just normalizing himself with his role, so there was nothing to concern yourself over. That’s what you chided to yourself whenever these moments occurred again and again, until one day, you accidentally brush hands with the male while trying to pass him some papers, and he practically jumps away from your touch. He doesn’t apologize afterwards, but you can see how he’s more cautious around you, sometimes catching his gaze lingering on you for far too long while a sheepish red creeps over his cheeks… and the way he glances at his own hand so gingerly is something peculiar all together.
However, none of that prepared you when the next week, the last day of the promised agreement, Xiao asks to talk to you. Alone.
“Xiao, what’s up?” He hasn’t spoken yet, and the silence is suffocating.
“Can we… not pretend any longer?”
And for a moment, everything seems to stop. Time itself halts as the only thing you can hear is your own shallow inhale and exhale. His voice cuts through the moment. “I’m tired of pretending, wanting something that isn’t mine. Something that I can never have.”
“Something… that can never be yours…?” It’s hard to speak, like something is in your throat, but you manage to.
“Yes. You.”
Ah, how could you not return his words when he gazes into your eyes with such adoration?
“...Xiao, it’s not entirely impossible.”
And the words that come out of your mouth aren’t lies, because you’ve felt the butterflies too. You wouldn’t think, a week prior, that you would’ve fallen for someone as distant as him, but the way he treated you so gently swayed your resolve. In a way, this outcome was inevitable.
Ha, but to think that Xiao, born from one of Liyue’s elite families, would confess to you like this, with such a flustered expression, eyes clouded with love?
“Ah… then, if that’s the case, you’ll allow me this, won’t you?”
There’s a hint of something strange in his tone, yet it’s left undeciphered as the male swiftly leans forward, one hand making its way behind you and keeping you steady as his lips meet yours. He’s pressed against you, close enough that you can feel his own heartbeats along yours, beating just as quickly. When he pulls away, one shaky hand manages to grab yours, grasp surprisingly strong.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to kiss you again.” ♥
"...Ah? Sorry, I think I heard something different. Could you repeat that?"
You don't think KAZUHA has ever looked more perplexed as he stares at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as he tries his best to process your words. "So you..." His voice cracks, and he coughs into his fist. "You want me to be your fake boyfriend?"
"Just for one week..." You nod at his words, feeling a little awkward at your request. It wasn't too outlandish, was it? From the way Kazuha seems completely frozen, one would assume so... but it was a simple plan, even if it didn't work, it was worth trying, right?
It takes the white haired male a whole ten seconds to respond, which is already unusual in and of itself. He nods hesitantly, “I…I suppose I could.”
It surprises you how good of an actor he is, holding your hand without a second thought, inviting you out after school, waiting for you to pack up after classes and always following you to your next… sometimes you wonder if it’s even an act at all.
His touch seems too sincere, gaze too warm… and by the third day, your crush fades. Is it too hopeful to wish for something more in your relationship with Kazuha? Was it really so shameful? He treated you too tenderly to ignore, even if it was all just pretend… you wanted it to be real.
And maybe such thoughts were given an answer when, on a whim of carelessness, a small, folded up piece of paper fell from the male’s pocket as he waved goodbye, walking out of the classroom. Curious, you retrieved the paper, figuring you could give it back to him later… but you couldn’t resist just one peek. If it was really that private, he would’ve taken greater measures in ensuring its safety, wouldn’t he?
Ah, but what was written on the paper…well, to put it simply…
It was a poem, addressed to you. Professing his love, his adoration, his infatuation.
Words you were not meant to see, but ones you witnessed.
And when he comes to pick you up after class, wearing his usual serene smile, it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time.
His crimson eyes seem to glitter when he spots you amongst the crowd, his entire expression brightening as he excitedly half-runs over with a slight flush on his cheeks. “There you are!” And just like always, he latches his hand upon yours, his grip comfortably tight.
Have his hands always been so warm?
“Dove, is something wrong?” The look of concern in his eyes is almost overwhelming. Something that can’t all just be a farce.
“Sorry.” Then, amidst the bustling crowd, you lean forward and give him a light peck on the cheek, pulling away as you watch his features grow slack with shock, cheeks reddening as he lightly squeezes your hand.
“W- Oh, does this mean…” His voice has gained a hopeful edge as a smile graces his lips. “C’mon dove, you missed. Here, let me show you how…”
And then he embraces you tightly, and you can feel his bashful warmth spreading into your body as his soft lips meet yours in the mere span of seconds, engulfing you with a sense of affection that you had never felt before.
“K-Kazuha… I…” It’s hard to get words out, with how loud your heart is beating in your ears - but there’s no need to, as the male shushes you with a smile playing on his lips.
“There’s no need to explain, I already understand. Besides, I was getting tired of playing pretend all the same.” ♥
"Haha, never expected to hear those words from you..."
HEIZOU looks rather calm, which is odd, about the entire situation, laughing quietly to himself before turning to you with a rather smug expression. "What, you want me to be your 'boyfriend' for a week?"
"Mhm..." You do suppose he's likely heard of stranger requests before, given the part-time detective work he does.
"Hmm..." Even though it seems like he's already made up his mind, he still playfully puffs out his cheeks, squinting his eyes at the distance as if that'll help his decision making skills in any way. "What'd I get in return, though?"
"...Eh? Uhm..." While Heizou was one of the more eccentric people you were acquainted with, you hadn't expected that he'd ask for something in return. "...A kiss?"
You were joking, but somehow, that made the male perk up. "Sure, sounds like a fair trade to me."
Well… if he was satisfied, then all was fine, right?
Except, with the promise of a kiss in tow, why does he seem so much more… full of vigor? That wasn’t natural, was it?
It’s easy to dismiss things you don’t see, but not when it’s clearly witnessed. Every little action he did, accompanied with a smirk, would be followed with a smug little something along the lines of, “I can’t wait for the kiss,” or “Your kiss will make this all worth it~!” And even whenever he loosely held your hand, he would glance at you and make a puckering motion with his lips.
At that point, calling his actions “normal” would just be lying to yourself.
“So, how’d it go?” Heizou glances up at you with tentative emerald eyes as you near him, something in his gaze that you can’t quite describe.
“All they said was ‘congrats on finding a partner.’” You sigh, slumping as you stand next to him, sliding down the wall before sitting on the floor, knees hugged to your chest. “I think they're dating someone else… ah, how could this be? I’ve had a crush on them for years, yet…” Another long sigh escapes your lips.
At the edge of your vision, you can see a certain male staring at you with a faint smile on his face, growing subtly wider with each word that leaves your mouth.
“Heh, seems like my love has run fresh out of fortune~!” His voice lilts, and you can hear the smirk residing in hsi tone as you flinch at the use of a petname. “Aw, it’s really too bad, isn’t it…” He’d almost look convincing if he wiped the jeering grin off his face.
“What are you…” Your voice trails off as Heizou sits on the ground next to you, mimicking your posture while placing his hand over yours.
“You promised me a kiss, didn’t you?”
Curses. That, you did.
“...Ah, were you serious about that?” You laugh awkwardly, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Were you not?” He counters instantaneously, his smug expression not budging an inch. “I never knew you were so unfaithful in keeping promises… I can’t help but feel disappointed.”
Then he pouts, eyes glimmering as he gives you the puppy eyes, albeit a little cursed. And just like that, you can feel your resolve shatter, crumpling like a piece of wet paper mache. An odd metaphor, but it seemed to fit the current predicament. With a groan of… embarrassment? Exasperation? You finally agree, grumbling, “Ah, let’s just get this over with.”
“Ready when you are~!”
Awkwardly… hesitantly, you lean forward, give him a light peck on the cheek, and retract as fast as humanly possible. Heizou only laughs at your antics, “You call that a kiss?”
“What, do you have any complaints?” You can’t help the snarky edge that makes its way into your voice.
“Perhaps a few.” The male smirks, scooching closer to you so that the two of you are uncomfortably close. “Why don’t I show you what a true kiss looks like?”
He doesn’t wait for your answer, he doesn’t have to - he just swiftly moves in, one hand on your chin as he moves your mouth onto his. You can feel the sneer against your lips as he engulfs you into one kiss, then another. It seems like an eternity before he pulls away, and when he does, your left panting, face flushed with red.
“Hah… I-” Archons, why did he look so handsome right now? With his slightly dishiveled burgundy hair that framed his face so immaculately, the way his spring eyes glimmered with the slightest hint of mischief, and the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards with a satisfied air.
“No need to thank me for my services, but if you’d like to repay me…” He recovers quicker than you do, his smile not flickering from his face, not even once.
“Why don’t you repay me with a date?” ♥
"Hahaha- oh. Wait, you aren't joking? Ugh, who do you take me for?"
The instant SCARAMOUCHE realizes you aren't jesting, his smile drops, and it's replaced with a look of absolute denial... or maybe it's repulsion?
Either way, he looks displeased, and his gaze towards you is one as if he's glaring at an annoyingly loud fly. Or maybe a worm, like he always likes to say to people he particularly dislikes, cursing "lowly worms" under his breath when he passes them in the hallways.
"Are you crazy? Delusional? Oh, I get it, you ate something weird." He lifts his eyebrow at you, frown deepening with every word. When he notices that you don't admit to any of them, his eyes go wide. "...You're being serious."
“Yes…?” The way he’s acting makes you nervous. “C’mon, please? Just for one week…”
“...How unfortunate… the way you’re acting so desperate is kind of disgusting… but if you insist…” Scaramouche glowers, but eventually loosens his expression. "Let's make it quick."
He's a bit of a strange boyfriend, to say the least, barely holds your hand, and when he does, it's only when people are around. He's not exactly polite in his affection either, whenever he's latched onto you, he'll stick his tongue out at anyone and all who passes by you two, giving any sort of strange look.
He may or may not tone his antics down if you ask him too, but likely not. Why should he give a shit about what you think, or what others think? He's stronger - if they want a fight, he'll give it to them.
And when your crush eventually never returns the jealousy you were wishing for, it's disappointing, to say the least, but the only words Scaramouche have to say about it are: "They didn't deserve you anyway, the fool."
...Wait, was he the one that sounded jealous, now?
Perhaps you were hearing things.
Except...
"Hey, the week's over, isn't it?" Scaramouche sounds disinterested, but the way his gaze is fixated on you says otherwise. "Our little 'dating scheme' is finally over." You note the slightest hint of remorse in his voice.
"So it is." You don't glance up at him, continuing to scroll through your homefeed.
"Does that mean we're dating for real now?"
"...What?"
He lets out a sound that's a mix between a laugh and a scoff. "You tell me."
"Aren't we, now that we aren't faking it anymore?" ♥
(a/n) oops i made heizou's part too long and scara's too short whoopsies
#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fanfiction#genshin xiao#xiao x reader#kazuha x reader#genshin kazuha#kazuha#heizou x you#genshin heizou#heizou x reader#genshin wanderer#wanderer x reader#wanderer x you#wanderer#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#genshin oneshots#oneshots#genshin imagines#genshin x you#genshin fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin drabbles
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hi, i’m not sure if your requests are open, forgive me if not, but i’ve been thinking about bombshell!reader and spence lately. not sure if you’ve written this already or something similar, but how about them sharing a room on a case? similar to alaska.
fem, 1k
Spencer predicted the outcome of the roommate situation fairly quickly. Ignoring whatever data he might have in his head about the team, Spencer was always going to end up sharing with you tonight, because the universe hates him, and because you quite like him.
It's nice to be someone first choice, if nothing else. “Me and Spencer will share, obviously,” you say, holding out your hand for a keycard.
Hotch passes it over without complaint. He doesn't have to say keep it professional, you will (ish), and he doesn't have to ask Spencer if he's okay with this arrangement. Despite endless exhausting teasing, everyone knows that you and Spencer are actually friends. Or, he thinks you are.
You certainly feel quite friendly as you hike your bag higher up your arm and sew the other arm through his. “Let's go. I'm so tired I might fall asleep on the way there.”
You don't look tired. Spencer struggles to understand how every emotion you wear suits you. How every time he looks at you, you're prettier. He read a book recently on human attraction, and less factual but perhaps his most strongly believed takeaway from the book was that a person grows more attracted to the person they're attracted to, like a loop, or an ouroboros snake eating its own tail, forced over and over to make the same stupid mistake. What is he doing? Does he really think this is a good idea? Is he in love with you? How couldn't he be? You walk arm in arm to a room you're going to share and you don't care that he smells sickly of arnica and deodorant mixed together. You ignore the dark circles under his eyes, dark circles you never seem to have, always so perfect, always so you.
“This one?” you ask, coming to a stop. “Room… 108?” He takes your bag and you smile gratefully, inserting the key, and legging open the door. “Tada. Home sweet home, Dr. Reid.”
The hotel room is small and stale. Clean, sure, but questionably, with yellowing furnishings and sparse furniture. There's a double bed, two nightstands, a cubby bathroom close to the door, and a single chair near a small free standing countertop opposite of the bed, hosting a microwave and cups with hot chocolate sachets.
“Wow,” you say, beaming, immediately breaking for the bed.
“Wait, wait! We have to check for bed bugs.”
You hold your hands up in surrender.
Spencer peels the sheets back and uses the little torch on his keychain to investigate the mattress while you sit on the floor, one leg crossed beneath you and the other stretched in front of you as you sort through your clothes. You hum as you fold a shirt cleanly and make a pleased sound that may prove to give him indigestion as you unearth your pyjamas.
“Spencer, can I shower first? Do you mind?”
“I don't mind.” He turns off the torch, satisfied. “Thank you. For letting me check without being annoyed.”He says the second bit quieter than he means to.
“Why would I be annoyed?” you ask, standing up in a whirlwind of pistachio perfume. Low notes of something sweet and caramelised haunt him as you drop your hand on his shoulder. “I'm gonna shower really fast, I swear. Should we get dinner? I bet we could order something to the front desk.”
“I'll see if they have any menus.”
Sitting in bed with you, later, showered and fed and drinking microwaved hot chocolate from paper cups together, Spencer has a strange flash of pleasure. Talking to you, seeing you with your hair in its protective style for the night, your skin shining with lotions and serums, and to have the revelation that you really do have dark circles under your makeup, it all feels private and special. Because you're still undeniably beautiful, and you act like he's worth sharing that with.
He feels overwhelmed, in all honesty.
You can sense it. You do your best to calm him down.
“Finish your drink, babe,” you say, knocking him on the thigh with your knuckles. “It was a really long day.”
“I'm fine.”
“Yes, you are.” You giggle at yourself. “Sorry, I'm being serious tonight, I decided.”
“Why?” he asks, puzzled.
“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You don't.”
You put your hot chocolate on the nightstand and sink back into the pillows, looking every bit a movie star as usual despite your fresh face. It's your expression, the confidence behind them, that makes you so beautiful.
“What are you thinking?” you ask.
He looks down into his hot chocolate, swirling the drink around and around. “You're beautiful.”
It catches you off guard. You're quiet for too long, panic festering in his chest.
“You are too.” You put your hand on his thigh. When he brings his haze to your face, you've closed your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Wanna brush my teeth for me?”
“No.” You both laugh. “Sorry if that was out of the blue, before.”
“I say worse to you,” you say. “Lay down with me. We can snuggle.”
Spencer lays down. You don't snuggle, but your hand stays pressed to the side of his thigh, and the smell of your perfume lingers despite your shower. It must've been caught in your hair.
“It's weird,” you say, facing the ceiling, “I'm not tired anymore.”
“It's called learned arousal.”
Your laugh is a shock. “Oh, is it now?”
“Not like that. Are you thinking about work? If you think about certain things while you're in bed, it starts to make it so you think about those things on instinct. You've conditioned yourself.”
“I don't think so,” you say. “Well, maybe. Mostly I just think about you, Spence. And not like that.” You laugh again, so much laughter Spencer could conjure the sound from memory alone. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I promise I'm not trying to harass you.”
He stares at the side of your face. “I know what you mean. I think about you too.”
“Well, good to know I'm not in this torture alone,” you say softly.
It is the worst night's sleep of Spencer's life, but he thinks he might want to do it again.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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The Voice in Your Head
Graham was excited about moving into his new apartment. It was in a nice part of town, with good transit access to his job, plus it was pretty spacious for the price. Graham could just picture himself, his plants, maybe a boyfriend, all fitting neatly into the apartment, with its nice hardwood floors and retrofit kitchen.
So, he was quite surprised, on moving day, when the neighbour across the hall grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “There’s something weird about that unit,” the guy hissed in a low voice.
“What are you talking about?” Graham frowned. This guy looked totally ordinary in every way, in his button-up shirt and neatly parted hair. There was no way he was some crazy conspiracy nut.
“The guys who live in there,” the guy continued, seeming frantic, “they change. Most of them get spooked and move out in a few weeks. I’ve never seen one last longer than two months. That’s why the rent is so low.”
“Bull.” Graham tugged himself free. “What is this, some kind of weird building hazing or something? What a way to greet a neighbour.”
As he marched away to unlock the door for the movers, Graham felt his new neighbour’s eyes on his back.
Even though he did his best to put the strange conversation out of his mind, Graham kept thinking about the guy’s words as he unpacked for the rest of the day. He had seemed way too sincere for a prank.
At one point, one of the movers gave a sudden shudder and dropped a box full of Graham’s work shirts and coat hangers. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking away the wild look in his eyes as his coworkers stared, “there was a...smell.” Graham noticed that he was one of the first to leave the apartment to go wait in the moving van once everything was carried in.
Left alone after the movers set up the basics—bed, couch, dining table, desk, TV stand—Graham stood in the kitchen, trying to recapture his excitement for the new apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like the sunlight through the big windows of the living room looked a little watery, like it couldn’t fully enter the space. Even though it was nice and warm inside the apartment, Graham felt strangely clammy, and he couldn’t settle down.
In an attempt to use the restless energy, Graham paced to the bedroom and cut open his boxes of work clothes. He had a pretty ordinary cubicle job, so there was a certain standard of professionalism to meet, but Graham also loved business clothes. Getting dressed for work, for Graham, was like putting on a professional person, like he could pretend to be someone else for 8 hours a day. He had dozens of slim-fit button-ups for his skinny body, perfectly chosen to match his pale skin. Matching sets of slacks and blazers quickly filled the closet.
The action was soothing, and pretty soon Graham was unpacking his loafers. He’d cleaned them before putting them in the box, but he decided to give them a quick polish before putting them on the shoe rack. As he went to get a rag, Graham suddenly thought, I bet those won’t fit for long.
He stopped, halfway to the kitchen. The thought had been so out of character and strange. But, it sounded like his internal voice. It was a weird feeling.
Don’t worry about it.
Graham shook his head and resolved not to worry about it, grabbing the rag and putting his shoes away.
That night, Graham had trouble getting to sleep. It was like he couldn’t get warm, even under all the covers. He tossed and turned until, finally, he drifted off.
It was still dark when his eyes opened. Somewhere around 4 AM. Feeling strangely detached from himself, Graham swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom.
Looking into the mirror in the darkness, Graham found himself stripping out of his silk pyjamas to see his own skinny, pale body. His lips moved, and Graham heard himself mumble, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
As if puppeted by someone else, Graham’s body moved through a series of bodybuilding poses. “There’s potential, though,” he heard himself mumble into the darkness.
He lifted up his arm and stuck his nose into his armpit, frowning. “Don’t worry, dude, you’re in good hands,” Graham’s voice told him. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get spooked.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Heh, spooked.”
The morning sun had Graham blinking awake. He’d had a strange dream, talking to himself in the bathroom. But as he pushed aside the covers, Graham frowned. He was naked, even though he always slept in pyjamas.
The pyjamas were on the bathroom floor, tossed carelessly. Well, Graham thought, maybe he’d overheated…while on the toilet.
Anyway, he’d been too tired to take a shower last night, but he definitely needed one before work today. Graham stepped into the shower and turned the tap, but was disappointed to hear a gurgling somewhere in the pipes. Only a few drops came out.
One more day won’t hurt.
“One more day won’t hurt,” Graham said, vocalising what his inner voice had said. He would email the building manager and get the shower fixed today. In the meantime, he applied a few extra layers of deodorant and fixed his hair as best as he could.
Still, Graham was self-conscious all day. He dreaded any coworker getting close enough to smell him or notice that his skin was a little greasy. By lunch break, he had rehearsed in his head a whole speech about walking to work to explain why he was so gross. It was a relief when the clock hit 5 PM and no one commented.
The repair man was standing outside Graham’s apartment when he got home, and he let them in. Apparently, there was nothing obviously wrong with the shower. It even ran on the repair man’s first try at turning the tap. Still, the man recommended that Graham put aside some tap water in case it kept acting up. At least he could take a sponge bath.
No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.
“No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.” Graham wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It was like someone else had spoken through his lips. It was kind of urgent to have regular showers. But he shook hands with the repair man and smiled as he saw him out. If the shower was just randomly acting up, he’d learn to adapt to it.
The guy across the hall looked out his door while Graham stood there, thinking through the strange thought he’d had. “You okay?” he asked. “Nothing…weird happening in there?”
Nothing to worry about.
“Nothing to worry about.” Graham smiled at his neighbour. Yeah, he was feeling pretty relaxed. With his move done, he really did have nothing to worry about. He was just jittery about his new place. “Graham, by the way.”
“Leo,” said the neighbour, still looking rather nervous. “You sure? Usually, guys go screaming down the hall their first night, yelling about feet and nightmares, like they're being haunted.”
Not this time.
“Not this time.” Maybe Leo really was some kind of conspiracy theorist. Graham still had more unpacking to do. “Nice to meet you.” He closed the door.
First things first, though, Graham wanted to finally get his first shower in his new place. He went and turned the tap.
Nothing.
Graham took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to fill a pot with water from the kitchen sink.
Hahahahaha. Laughter filled his mind. Graham froze in the middle of the kitchen. No matter what, his mental voice laughing at him couldn’t be a good sign, right?
The only thing to do with a problem is laugh.
That logic seemed sound. It wasn’t the way Graham usually dealt with problems, though. He was the kind of guy who tended to panic at the slightest opportunity.
He must be maturing.
Chuckling a bit to himself, Graham went to get his basin of water for a sponge bath.
The sponge baths really weren’t so bad, and by the time the shower started working randomly a few days later, Graham couldn’t find any of his soap or shampoo. He had a vague memory of dreaming that he’d thrown them out, but that was ridiculous. Every time he thought about getting more bathing supplies, he’d have the thought that it was just a lot of effort. He was doing fine with water alone, why complicate it?
One night a week or so after his move, Graham found himself staring at his ceiling late in the night. He must be dreaming again. He felt his lips move. “I think I’m gonna try moving in for real, just a bit. Don’t mind me.”
Suddenly, Graham’s feet went ice cold, and a strange, wet, slippery sensation slid into his feet. They felt…tight, like they were overfull somehow.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be a tight fit. Don’t worry, I’ll work you in slowly,” said Graham’s mouth.
Still with that strange, distant sensation, as if he wasn’t in control of his body, Graham sat up in bed and swung his feet to the floor. He watched as his toes wriggled and something shifted under the skin. They did look a little bloated. Over several minutes, Graham watched like a passenger while his feet flexed back and forth, looking a little larger with each twist of the arch and ankle. Dark hair began to sprout on his growing toes.
At last, they seemed to stabilise, and Graham’s body lifted his right foot up. A faint, but distinctive, aroma rose from the massive sole. “Mmm, smells like being alive,” said Graham’s mouth with a smirk.
The next morning, Graham laid in bed for a long time. He’d never been a foot guy, so this dream was especially strange. He realised, thinking back on it, that his cock had, in fact, been hard the entire time. There was even a stain in his Calvins—somehow, every night he’d worn pyjamas to bed he’d tossed them off while dreaming—like he’d had a wet dream.
When he got out of bed, he wondered why his feet looked oddly tan against the skin of his legs. And, later, why they felt strangely snug in his loafers. They pinched where they had felt perfectly comfortable before.
When he got home, it was a relief to tear his shoes off, but Graham wrinkled his nose at the sharp aroma emanating from his sweaty socks. That was it, he resolved, he needed to stop procrastinating and wash himself properly again.
But it is sort of hot.
Graham paused as he was about to start making a shopping list. If he really thought about it, the scent was kind of hot. No one had mentioned that Graham wasn’t soaping up his body or deodorizing anymore. The smell from his feet hadn’t bothered anyone. It was like it was his own little dirty secret. Like another role he could play underneath his work role.
And the smell really was sort of attractive.
“New shoes” went on the shopping list.
Some sneakers, too. To get really smelly.
Right, Graham didn’t want to mess up any work shoes as he experimented with this new interest of his. “Sneakers.”
It was like his dream had opened a floodgate. Every night, Graham dreamed of his feet growing erotically, and each day they were just a bit larger, with just a bit more stink built up on them. In his dreams, Graham talked to himself, talking about getting gym equipment, a bunch of new clothes, even about how boring Graham found his job.
More and more, Graham found himself agreeing with his dreaming self. One evening, he put a bunch of gym equipment into his Amazon cart, then turned off his computer. Gym stuff cost a lot of money, he needed to be sure he wanted to buy it. But that night, he dreamed about sitting at his computer to finalise the order, and the equipment arrived a few days later. At that point, it seemed like a waste to return it, so Graham set it up in the spare room, where he had originally planned to have a library.
Books are boring.
Graham had decided books were boring.
Any time he was at home now, Graham kept finding himself thinking, “I should do a few reps.” The results were unbelievable, with muscles thickening all over his body in what seemed like just a few days. It wasn’t long before Graham was outgrowing all of his clothes, quickly wearing out three new pairs of jeans in as many weeks.
Sweats are better anyway.
Graham’s new fitness obsession extended into his dreams, too. The cold, slippery sensation still enveloped his feet every night, but it also covered most of his body now. In his dreams, Graham would feel himself get out of bed and strut to the bathroom to pose and flex as his muscles grew larger and larger, until they bulged off his frame.
Once his muscles had grown thick and tanned dark, Graham’s dreams went in a few different directions. Often, he would watch in the mirror as he sniffed his armpits or feet, jacking the thick, musky foreign cock that had grown in place of his average, cut dick. Sometimes, Graham would hear himself say, “Nah, needs some more,” after sniffing himself. Then, he would go to his home gym and pump out reps until he was coated in sweat.
He always woke up aching and coated in stale sweat after those dreams, with a pungent scent emanating from his armpits and shockingly larger feet.
Every few nights, Graham had a dream where he would run his thick, callused hands over his neck and face, subtly pinching and compressing his face until a handsome stranger looked back at him in the mirror. “There, that’s the real me,” he would say to himself in a deep, smokey voice.
After those dreams, Graham was always surprised to see his normal face in the mirror. And yet, there would be a familiar sharpness to his jaw, or the set of his dark eyebrows, that reminded him of the face in his dreams.
The world outside his apartment felt increasingly strange. It was like a part of his internal voice was missing. He had trouble understanding his own thoughts, now. It was like he was a jumble of two different people. Had he really used to spend most of his free time reading library books? Was he really the kind of guy who didn’t put himself up for a bonus at the end of the year?
The apartment was safe and secure. It was like Graham’s mind was wrapped in calm and good sense as soon as he walked in. His mind spoke louder, which let him make better decisions, like the time that he wore sweats and T-shirt to work. It had made perfect sense when he walked out the door, but then he had stumbled over his words when he tried to explain to his boss why he was dressed appropriately for work.
Long story short, Graham was arriving home early today. He was just unlocking his door when Leo came barrelling up the stairs in running gear. He stopped when he spotted Graham, just stepping over the threshold and into the wonderful calm of his apartment.
“Who are—Graham?” Leo stared at him. “Is that really you?”
Graham looked down at himself, then back over at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”
“No way. You’re so…muscular and tan. I barely recognise your face.”
“Yeah, I had a bit of a growth spurt.” Graham flexed a bicep with a grin.
“A growth spurt powered by anabolics and a talented plastic surgeon, sure,” Leo was frowning at him.
Graham was kind of offended by his rude neighbour. He’d put a lot of hard work into this body!
Yeah, I have. Get him in the apartment.
“Look,” Graham sighed, the words spilling from his lips like in his dreams, “I’ve had a bad day. Just come inside if you want to talk.”
Leo seemed to hesitate, just for an instant. “But that’s the—“
“Either get inside, or get out of my face.” Graham’s voice sounded a bit gruff to his ears, beyond just the depth that it had gained over the months he’d lived here. It was like it was another man’s voice.
Leo shook himself. “Okay.” He steeled himself and followed Graham over the threshold.
Perfect.
“Whew, it’s ripe in here, man,” Leo observed. “Do you ever shower?”
“Just with cold water.” Graham kicked out of his sneakers, freeing his massive, socked feet and stretching them out. More and more, he felt separate from his body, as if he was watching it move. Still, it hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done, he thought. He was just playing another role.
“Well, clearly, it’s not…enough…” Graham watched, his mouth held in a strange smile, as Leo seemed to lose his train of thought. The man’s nostrils flared, and he swayed slightly.
“Yeah, not so mighty and judgmental anymore,” said Graham’s voice. “You’ve forced me to move up my schedule a bit, but it’s not a problem.”
Leo licked his lips before answering. “Sorry, sir,” he said thickly.
“You’re the guy who’s been helping my potential bodies escape, aren’t you?”
“I warn them about this apartment…I keep listings for new places they can go…” Leo’s eyes started to clear, and he shook his head. “No, wait, what the fuck—“
In a flash, Graham leapt into action. He didn’t know how he got one of his sneakers in his hand, but he grabbed Leo in a headlock and shoved his face into the putrid interior. “Nuh-uh-uh, no escapes or exorcisms this time,” Graham’s voice whispered, as Leo thrashed in his strong arms. “The more you fight, the more you fall. Isn’t it hot? My sexy, sweaty new body all around you, and the smell and taste of my foot musk all over your face?”
As Graham spoke, Leo’s struggles weakened. Graham watched with amusement as they both slumped to the floor, a rock-hard boner growing in Leo’s running shorts.
Finally, Graham’s grip on the sneaker loosened, even as Leo reached up to hold it himself. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Graham’s said soothingly. “You’ve thought I was a sexy beast since I moved in, right? You loved my big, musky muscles and my foot stink. That’s why you made up that story about a haunted apartment.”
Leo’s eyes seemed to be rolling uncontrollably in his head, but he nodded.
“Now I’ve finally noticed you and invited you inside. You just couldn’t help yourself, you foot slut. You were gonna tackle me before I gave you that shoe to lick.”
Leo nodded fervently, moaning. A wet spot was forming at his crotch.
“Now we’re gonna go to the bedroom and I’m gonna shove my cheesy uncut cock in that virgin hole of yours, okay bro?”
“Fuck,” Leo gasped, muffled through the shoe. “Fuck yes, Graham.”
“Nah, man,” said Graham’s voice, picking Leo up like he was a doll, “I’d rather you call me Grey.”
As Grey’s thick cock entered Leo, Graham found himself watching as if from outside himself. He could see his own handsome, angular face as he fucked Leo. He could see Grey’s massive, musky feet shift as he gained a better angle to make Leo squeal. He could even watch the dribbles of sweat run over his thick ass as his voice gave short, sharp pants.
“Fuck yeah,” Grey said to himself in a harsh voice, picking up the pace.
“This is my body.”
“This is my fucking musk temple.”
“Made it all by my-fucking-self.”
“Feels fucking good to be alive.”
As Grey buried his thick, musky cock deep in Leo, shaking through his orgasm, Graham found himself back inside his body. Once again, he watched like a passenger as Grey licked his load out of Leo’s asshole, then sent his happy new foot slut on his way with a spare sneaker and instructions to stop using soap and add Grey's contact info to his bank account.
Eventually, Grey lounged on the couch, naked, idly stroking his slimy, still-lubed cock and scrolling through Grindr. “What do you think, Graham?” he said out loud. “Since it's my first night able to leave the apartment, I should go crash some boys’ b-ball game and make some more foot slaves, right?”
Graham couldn’t help but agree. He was just the voice in Grey’s head, after all.
This story is a slightly belated holiday gift for @idesofrevolution! Happy holidays, and here's to a hot and sexy new year ;)
#male transformation#mental change#muscle tf#male tf#race change#musk tf#male possession#gay possession#feet kink tf#all fwkong
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Sukuna’s Vessel, Yuuji Itadori.
Your time as Sukuna’s wife was a small blip in time. Something you nearly forgot until a pink-haired boy tries to talk to you
tw// fluff, adult language, MC is Lilith! (a powerful demoness)
if this does well I will make multiple parts.
masterlist
Art by icebuko
Was inspired by this scene from RWBY. dividers
You have already adjusted to your life in this world. It was hard to know if this is what you enjoyed or not but there was much less violence and a lot more excitement and love…You figured the mundane life suited you better. You became interested in the culture of Japan, you taught yourself its current traditions and you learned to be an elementary school teacher. No idea of why you were resurrected in this modern age came to your mind, but all you could do was live. Although, for years upon years, you felt like something was missing, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
Just when that feeling was beginning to fade, you met a particular boy. You stood in the spring rain with your transparent umbrella, dressed in business casual as you helped your young, toddler students cross the busy street. Silently, you desperately tried to shield the babies from the harsh rain and cold air. The children scattered, going on their way back home using the routes you taught them so that they could be fast.
“Um, excuse me…?”
It was the boy you had seen before. He was young, probably a teenager. You noticed him stalking you for a bit now. What could he have wanted from you?
His hair was an unnatural color, maybe dyed. His uniform wasn’t anything like you had seen before and on his feet were painfully red shoes that hurt your eyes. Truly the sense of style for a young boy in this age fashion.
“Yes?” You turned around to look at the boy. He was visibly nervous but you tried to comfort him with a welcoming smile. As you examined him, you got a sense of familiarity.
“Are you….(y/n)?”
You blinked for a moment. Could this have been an older sibling of one of your students?
“I am.” You replied. “Is there…something you want to speak to me about?” You tilted your head and he became increasingly restless under your watchful eyes. “Can we talk in private?” The boy asked politely. You looked down at your watch. It seemed you had time before you needed to go home to prepare your lesson for the next day of teaching.
You humored the boy. The two of you walked to a nearby park where he told you his name and his occupation. He told you why he was going to school. If what he was told was true, you should already know about curses and sorcerers. He also asked you questions.
Yuuji asked things like if you had a family. What have you been doing with your time? But then he asked who you were and if you loved anyone.
You found it rather inappropriate that someone so young and strange to you was asking about your personal life.
Now, the two of you sat on the bench. The rain eased to a drizzle and you began to enjoy the little time you had left with the boy. “Why does who I may love matter to a boy like you? You should be into girls your own age.” You joked, closing your umbrella and leaning it against the edge of your wooden seat. Yuuji blushed at your comment and raised his hands before shouting. “N-No, it’s not like that! I was asking f-for a friend!”
“A friend?” You repeated, raising your eyebrow slightly. You couldn’t recall anyone who wouldn’t be interested in you. “Well, I am going to need to get going.” You told him. “Dinner’s calling me and I have to grade my student’s tests.” You smiled kindly, beginning to stand before the boy suddenly stopped you. He grabbed the sleeve of your attire before uttering:
“Are you really the wife of Ryomen Sukuna?”
Your mouth opened to speak. You felt the world stop and it was like you couldn’t feel the rain on your skin anymore. That was a name you haven’t heard forever.
“Who told you that name?” Your ability to make Yuuji feel calm was soon diminishing. Yuuji didn’t reply at first. His eyes darted from you and often looked to the right as if he were in thought. He would hold his head but never made an effort to mention why he was behaving so erratically.
“I guess that means you are her.”
Your face eased. “So, I assume that you have revealed yourself to me because you plan to kill me like what happened hundreds of years ago or so?” You tilted your head before giving him a closed-eyed smile. “Huh?? Oh, N-No, of course not. My sensei doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Then…who sent you?” You sat back down by Yuuji. The boy didn’t answer you. His gaze broke from yours. “Yeah, Yeah, I’m getting to that!” He muttered but rather loudly. The boy didn’t seem to be talking to you.
He then turned his full attention to you again. “How did you meet Sukuna?” His question was innocent but it held unimaginable weight. “First,” You raised a finger. “How do you know that name?”
Yuuji shoved his hands into his pockets. “School.” He lied…half lied.
“They’re teaching you about him at your school…? Gods…” You sighed softly. “I knew Sukuna a long time ago but my story goes beyond him. I’m much older than him, you see.” You looked down at your black pumps. It was expected of you to wear this for your job. You suddenly felt the pressure of walking in them all day and kicked them off just a bit.
“Older?”
You nodded. “I was actually the first woman. I was the first wife of Adam. You know who that is?” You broke your gaze with the ground to see that the boy was staring at you rather intently. Was he even listening? He wasn’t even blinking. “Yuuji.” You called, ripping him from his daydream.
“H-Huh? Oh, Adam? Um…” He thought for a moment before shaking his head. You smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t. It’s more of a Western tale…” Your manicured nails dug into the soft wooden chair. “Adam was a jerk.” The frown you held was small but behind it was an anger that only the Gods could fathom.
The boy’s ears perked up. “Oh, like Adam and Eve! You’re Eve!” He looked as if he had hit the lottery with a guess that good. But…
You laughed again. “No. Eve came after me. She was the more obedient wife. I’m often erased from history.” Your posture eased and you leaned your back against the bench. “Ryomen Sukuna was the only man that ever loved me. And that I loved back.” Your heart rate quickened thinking of your lover. “You humans know him as a horrible threat…which is true.”
“But I was a horrible person too. We were horrible together…my Ryomen.” You said his name so breathlessly. It was so long ago but you replayed your favorite moments with him. There was no harm in talking about Sukuna, right? He was long gone so this boy’s superiors couldn’t have been targeting you for any reason. You enjoyed pretending to be a human. This wouldn’t be a problem, right?
Yuuji didn’t say a word. He hid his eyes from you, sinking further into his jacket. Without saying much of anything, you effortlessly humanized Sukuna. It didn’t make the boy feel any less hostile toward the King of Curses but it did give him insight into what kind of person he was. He had a soft spot for at least one person. Without warning, he sat up straight. “Um…would you say you still loved him?”
Normally, you would be put off by such a question, but you were already deep in this conversation. Your eyes wandered to the people entering the park here and there. They pushed their kids in strollers and walked their dogs. The sound of the cars driving behind you was painstakingly loud as you tried to think of the past. You answered. “Yes, I do.”
Suddenly, Yuuji erupted with activity. The way he pulled his hood over his head and turned away from you concerned you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” You leaned over going to rest a hand on your shoulder when you heard muffled speaking. “Yuuji—”
“I-It’s nothing! ‘Just cold, sorry!” He blurted out, causing you to recoil back. “I see…”You replied, going back into your place. “I wonder what ever happened to Ryomen.” You looked down at your watch. It was time for you to go now.
“I know where Sukuna is.”
“What?” The corner of your mouth instinctively raised into a smirk but your eyes were wide as saucers. “I didn’t peg you as a prankster but I suppose I should’ve expected it.” Your tenseness eased, before shutting your eyes and laughing to yourself. Sukuna? Here? No, that surely wasn’t true. The world would be in ruin if he were.
“I’m serious!” Yuuji then proceeded to explain to you his unique situation that involved him swallowing your lover’s fingers and, in turn, bonding them together. You still didn’t know what to believe. It almost made you angry…you somehow felt that perhaps, sorcerers were watching you, waiting to see if you’d break your masquerade as a human if they convinced you that he was alive.
You clenched the handle of your umbrella as it lay beside you. “If Sukuna is really inside of your body, then let me speak to him.” You were….half serious. You wanted so badly to just hear his voice again, even if he were saying something vulgar or pure evil. Or to just know if this was all a trick. Yuuji rubbed the nape of his neck. “I can’t really do that. Not in public, he might—”
“He won’t.” You interrupted. “I’ll make sure he won’t do anything.”
Yuuji had no choice but to trust you. For the last day, he’s had Sukuna yelling at him so loudly and often that he wasn’t able to tune it out like always. For a moment, Yuuji stopped resisting Sukuna’s pull on him, allowing the curse to take over his body. There was a familiar set of markings that appeared on his body and face. The amount of joy, confusion, and concern that filled your body was undeniable.
Although your Ryomen Sukuna was in front of you, trapped inside the body of a boy, you felt like it was a trick. Maybe it wasn’t sorcerers casting a spell on your mind. Perhaps it was God punishing you one last time or it was Adam trying to take one last jab at you before you experienced true death.
Once you laid eyes upon Sukuna, it still looked as if Yuuji had control. His eyes were like that of a dear in headlights while his face was full of admiration.
“Ryomen?” You called his name, causing the vessel he was in to flinch. His eyes then turned serpent-like. They were eyes you knew very well.
“It seems as though you have been resurrected.” He rested his head on his palm, those same eyes wandering your body, staring shamelessly at your chest area and thighs. “But you can never be too sure. How do I know you’re real?” He fidgeted more in his seat—more than Yuuji actually. He tapped his foot on the ground, drummed his fingers on his leg, and even sank his nails into his jawline out of anticipation.
The question caused you to blink. “You’re asking me if I’m real—?”
“Hurry. You have—” His gaze shifted downward for a brief moment before it went back to you. “—less than 60 seconds. If you can’t answer me, I’ll kill you and be done with it. Tell me what I said to you the first time we met. Only I and the real (y/n) know of this.”
Your mouth curled into a pleasant smile. You turned your hips towards him. “I’m not scared of a little monster like you.” You locked eyes with him. “When I met Ryomen, the first words to me were ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’ And I said, ‘I think the Gods would disagree.’ He laughed in a way I would never forget before telling me: ‘Give me a son and I’ll give you the world.’”
Sukuna was unmoving. His antics completely stopped and he listened. So silent…it was unlike him. You continued.
“I was devastated when he asked that of me. I said ‘I can not have a child. My womb is corrupt.’ And so he vowed to make—”
“Shit, it really is you.” The words pour out of his mouth like a waterfall. “It’s been so long. I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing living a mundane life with mortal scum?!” He cursed and threw out his insults, not even caring about the poor humans who walked by and were forced to listen to him. You smiled attractively. “I kinda like this ‘scum’” You replied, mimicking his voice so well you sounded like a female version of him.
“What happened to your body? Why are you burrowed away inside of a child?” Your head tilted with curiosity. His vessel was much smaller than before although, it was nice seeing what he’d be like as a human and not a monster.
Sukuna parroted the same thing Yuuji did, confirming the truth. The boy ate his finger.
“…but once I return to full power, I’ll make the Gods pay for what they did to you.” He wanted nothing more than to just reach out and touch you. It’s been so long since he’s seen you…since he’s heard your voice. Hundreds and hundreds of years of his consciousness lingered beyond his execution and his only thought was you. Even then, aspects of you had faded in his memory. Where were your horns and claws? Did you even have either of those? You had a sword too? No? Oh, he couldn’t remember but one thing that did stick with him was your presence. Sukuna could track you like a bloodhound and find you at every corner of the earth.
“The Gods wouldn’t care about you, Ryo.” A dry laugh left your lips at his awestruck face. “They don’t even care about me…but Adam—will return. You’ll be good to me and kill him, right?” Your sweet smile turned into a smirk, your eyes turned warm and filled with lust. Sukuna picked up on your subtle cues, his mouth going from slightly agape to a twisted, toothy grin. “I’ll bring you his head, I swear!”
“Hm.” Your eyes lit up with enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but rest your palm on his cheek. Yuuji’s skin was much smoother and softer than Sukuna’s monstrous features. “…and if you objectify me again, I’ll obliterate you.” Your manicured nails grazed his skin, threatening to pierce the vessel’s skin at any moment.
Sukuna was confused—not afraid. He hasn’t wronged you so why are you threatening him? It was then that he noticed your eyes. They glowed red.
That’s right, you were rather observant. His hungry eyes were already sexualizing in every way possible.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Sukuna replied, his wide demonic grin returning to his soft features. “Ya know, if you want, you can have me right now.”
Your eyes softened before you exhaled. “In that body?” You chuckled. “Maybe when it matures a little.” Your words made his smile fade and his nose scrunch up in disgust. “Who cares how old this vessel is?! It’s ME!”
“And you’re a bit short for my liking.” You fake pouted before letting go of his face. Upon instinct, he rubbed the claw markings you left behind. “I’m still taller than your small ass. You women are so picky with your size kinks.” he spat, rolling his eyes. “Next, you’ll ask me to put the world in your hands. And what do you bring to the table, huh?”
“Myself.” You replied before placing an innocent kiss on his cheek.
“Then, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stick around.”
#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna#ryomen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen headcanons#Sukuna x demon reader#female reader#reader insert#fluff
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One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley
Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.
Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.
Word count: 2398
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
Warnings: none, fluff.
Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.
For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.
Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.
According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.
My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.
In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.
One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.
Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.
Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.
Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.
His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.
However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.
He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.
“Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”
But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.
“What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.
“Nothing,” he responds bluntly.
“Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.
“Negative.”
“Are you sure beca-“
“Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.
Fine. I won’t try to help.
I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.
When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.
Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.
Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.
He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.
I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.
I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.
When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.
It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.
On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.
“What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.
When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.
I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.
I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.
“Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.
Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.
I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.
At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.
I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.
As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.
The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.
I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.
The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.
Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.
Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.
It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?
Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.
I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.
I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.
“If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.
“Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.
“Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.
“That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.
It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.
“I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”
I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.
“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.
The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.
I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.
“Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.
As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.
Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.
Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.
Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.
I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.
Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?
Fic based on this concept:
#MWII#mw2#cod mw2#cod imagine#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley#ghost imagine#cod ghost#cod ghost imagine#mw2 imagine#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#one bed#Simon Riley fluff#cod ghost fluff#ghost fluff#cod fluff
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forced to serve (p.1)
Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warning: Smut, Forced Prostitution, Dub-Con, Butt Stuff, Ass to Mouth
Written for and with my sexy wife @queenshelby, luv you bae
Summary: Your husband forces you into prostitution and your client is Thomas Shelby 👌
After you were told to prepare for your first client that evening, you found yourself nervous about what would come. This wasn't how you wanted things to turn out - not by a long shot! It was your very own husband who forced you into prostitution and desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You somehow had to feed your young child.
Dressed in your most provocative attire, your heart raced when you heard someone approaching your door – it was him. Tommy Shelby. A man whose reputation preceded him. From stories whispered around town, he always demanded something different and intense from those he interacted with. He enjoyed intercourse that was rough and forceful and demanded complete submission from those who served him.
He paid well and he was informed by the madam of the house that you would be obedient and allow him to penetrate you in whatever way he wished, for at least two hours.
It was all part of the deal you had made before entering this world where men like Tommy Shelby roamed free, dictating others' lives, desires, destinies.
The moment he entered the room, he immediately began taking off his shirt, exposing himself without shame or embarrassment. His muscular body gleaming under dim lights only intensified the raw power emanating from him. There was no mistaking whose presence filled the room now.
"Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here, my pet!" Tommy commanded without bothering to formally introduce himself.
"You want me to crawl towards you, on the floor?" you asked hesitantly, unsure whether you really understood his request correctly.
"Yes, Love," he barked back at you impatiently. "And don't ask questions. Just do it."
Your heart thumped rapidly against your ribcage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, heightening your senses. As you scrambled across the floor, getting closer to his towering frame, a strange mix of fear engulfed you.
"Good pet", he growled softly, taking notice of your compliance. Then, gripping your wrist tightly, he pulled you up onto your feet and led you towards the bed, commanding you once again to get on your knees, facing away from him.
Without waiting for your response, he spanked your bottom harshly, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your entire body. As tears welled up in your eyes, you felt a sudden surge of anger rise within you.
"Your safe word is red. Use it when you can't take it anymore and I will stop," Tommy spoke, his voice hoarse with lust. "I am not going to be gentle. In fact, I am going to hurt you, but this is what I am fucking paying you for, eh?"
As he roughly grabbed your hips, lifting you off the ground and positioning you into a standing doggystyle, you couldn't help but feel utterly overwhelmed by his brute strength. With one hand firmly grasping your waist, he used the other to pull your skirt higher, baring your bare behind for him to see.
Your stomach twisted with nerves as he swiftly removed his trousers, releasing his enormous erection from its confines. It stood tall and proud, almost taunting you.
Tommy reached forward and, without warning, he pushed your head down onto the mattress. "Open your legs wide and stick out your ass, sweetheart," he ordered.
Reluctantly, you did as instructed, feeling humiliated and afraid of what might happen next. Toying with your tender flesh, he slapped your ass repeatedly until it stung fiercely. He then took hold of your waist once more, pulling you further into the position he desired. Your face flushed crimson with anger and shame, yet your resolve remained unbroken. If anything, these brutish acts fueled your determination to endure. Tommy leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps along your neck.
"Don't worry, love," he whispered huskily, "This won't last forever." He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass cheek, eliciting a whimper from you despite your best efforts to suppress it.
"Now tell me how badly you need my cock inside your cunt, little bird," he said in a low, threatening tone.
"Please, sir..." you murmured, trying hard to maintain composure. "Just please make sure it doesn't hurt too much…"
At this point, his expression changed, morphing into pure malevolence. He knew just how far he could push you without crossing the line marked 'red'.
"That's my good pet, eh" he snarled approvingly, rubbing his cock against your still dry entrance.
Realising that you were not ready yet, he removed his cock temporally and spat some saliva onto his fingers and pressed them against your moistening hole, massaging and stretching it slowly while occasionally glancing at you with a look of hunger. You clenched your teeth together, fighting back the urge to cry out from the burning sensation spreading through your insides.
Finally, he stopped and held his manhood upright, his gaze fixated upon yours. "Are you ready, love?" he questioned with anticipation evident in his voice. You nodded mutely, unable to find the courage to speak aloud.
Unable to bear the intensity of the pressure building inside you, you finally gave consent, letting out a soft whimper that seemed to excite him even more. Grabbing you tighter by the waist, he thrust violently into you, causing you to gasp involuntarily.
Despite the initial discomfort, the familiarity of the rhythm gradually allowed you to become accustomed to his size. However, you struggled to regulate your breathing, hyperventilating as you tried to keep pace with the increasing speed of his movements.
Clutching the sheets tightly, you winced every time he drove deeper into you, the pain shooting through your loins growing stronger with each thrust.
Tommy loved watching his partner squirm beneath him, submitting to his every desire.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" he taunted, pounding into you relentlessly.
Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity continued to increase, leaving trails of salty residues on your skin. Each stroke felt like an invasion, deepening the connection he sought.
You bit your lip, determined not to let your cries escape. Instead, you focused on counting the number of strokes, trying to block out the searing pain with numbers. Your throat became parched as sweat trickled down your forehead, making it difficult to swallow.
"You are married aren't you?" Tommy suddenly interrupted your internal struggle, his heavy breath echoing in the silence of the room.
"What makes you think that?" you managed to choke out, trying to hide your feelings behind innocuous indifference.
"The ring on your finger gave it away," he replied smugly, continuing his thrusts, groaning loudly.
"Y-yes, sir. I am married" you mumbled weakly, your whole body trembling slightly from the assault.
He paused briefly, admiring your vulnerability before continuing mercilessly.
"Tell me Love, does your husband fuck you like this?" he crooned, driving his hips harder into you.
You cried out involuntarily, overcome by the intensity of his movement. Your legs quivered with fatigue, your arms shook as they supported your weight precariously on all fours.
"Answer me, love," he growled, pushing deeper inside you, his member pulsing against your wall, filling you completely. Your throat burned with the effort of holding back your cries.
"No," you whispered hoarsely, causing Tommy to smile maliciously as, unexpectedly, he started to probe your anal opening with his finger while continuing to thrust into your sore pussy,
"Does your husband ever touch you here?" He breathed heavily into your ear, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin.
You closed your eyes, struggling with the urge to both answer him honestly and to deny him altogether.
"Answer me, love," he repeated forcefully, pushing his index finger into your anus with such precision and ease that it surprised you greatly. You cried out in astonishment at the sudden intrusion.
"No," you answered eventually while crying out loudly.
His laughter resonated around the room, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. "So, has anyone fucked your ass yet? Tell me, sweet thing."
You cringed internally, mortified that he would ask something so personal, but knowing it was part of the game, you mustered enough courage to respond truthfully.
"N-no," you stammered quietly, the word nearly escaping your lips before you could catch yourself.
"Well, we'll rectify that today, shall we?" He purred menacingly, slipping two fingers into your wet, gaping anus, stretching and teasing you slowly.
Your muscles contracted involuntarily in response to his fingers penetrating your rectum, making you writhe underneath him. Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, emitting silent gasps.
"Good pet," he whispered, withdrawing his fingers slowly and methodically from your anus.
"I think your ass is ready for my cock now," mockingly, reaching for the bedside table and retrieving some Vaseline.
Fearful and hesitant, you lowered your head submissively. He ignored your reluctance and quickly covered his cock in the creamy substance.
Without waiting for your permission, he positioned himself over you again, guiding his engorged tool toward your aching anus. His grip on your hips was ironclad, refusing to allow you to escape or resist his assault. You writhed helplessly underneath him, struggling to accept the impending invasion. Despite your protests, your body refused to comply, betraying your resistance as he slowly inserted his length into your rear passage.
"Remember your safe word love," he whispered softly into your ear. You bit your tongue, willing yourself to remain strong.
As his full girth filled you up, he began moving within you, his powerful hips bucking against your own, his hands pressing harshly against your shoulders, pinning you in place.
The world around you blurred, and the only sound you heard was your labored breathing combined with his savage grunts of pleasure. Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks, unnoticed by either party involved in this perverse act.
"It hurts, doesn't it? Having my thick cock in your smallest hole? I can feel how much it aches you when I slide in and out," Tommy gloated cruelly, his breath ragged and heavy against your shoulder. His cock throbbed steadily inside you, reminding you of his sheer power over you. It felt like he had no regard for your limits, your needs – he simply possessed you, taking whatever he wished, whenever he chose.
"Tell me, do you like feeling my massive rod buried deep inside your bowels?" He asked playfully, his voice carrying a sinister undertone that made your stomach turn.
Swallowing nervously, you managed to gather enough strength to utter a faint yes. It wasn't a complete fabrication though, as you did enjoy feeling full. This admission served as further encouragement for him, prompting him to continue his brutal attack.
With each new entry, his pace increased incrementally until you found yourself lost in a haze of desperation, pain, and arousal. Your walls seemed to close in on themselves, creating a claustrophobic environment where you could neither scream nor beg for release.
In this moment, Tommy realized that he was approaching his peak - the culmination of his dominance and control over you. Increasing his tempo exponentially, he used his considerable strength to propel himself deeply within you once more, ignoring your frantic attempts to pull away.
His hardened pelvis rubbed against your tender entrance, forcing you to succumb to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body despite your best efforts to maintain distance.
Every thrust reverberated throughout your entire frame, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your system, making it impossible to hold back your orgasm. As you approached climax, Tommy increased his vigor, grasping your hips firmly, rocking your body against his rhythmic pace.
With every thrust, your moans grew louder, feeding off one another. Tommy couldn't help but be proud of his mastery, reveling in your submission. You were a delicious treat he didn't want to end too soon. Your breath quickened, and your nipples hardened under his gaze. As your excitement reached its peak, the walls around you disappeared, replaced by the intense heat of passion. The sensation of his hand cupping your breast brought forth a surge of electric energy, heightening your already spiraling awareness.
The rhythm of his thrusts intensified, mirroring the rapid beat of your heart. With each motion, you could sense the pressure building within, threatening to erupt and consume you entirely.
Your nails scratched furiously at the sheets, seeking some kind of anchor amidst the storm of emotion and physical stimulation consuming you. The taste of salt lingering on your lips only added fuel to the fire, and you found yourself begging for him to take you even further.
"Please, please don't stop!" you pleaded. Tommy laughed triumphantly, a devilish glint dancing in his eyes.
"Do you truly wish for me to push beyond your limit, my little pet?" He taunted, grazing his teeth along your neck, sending shivers racing across your flesh. Unable to suppress your desire any longer, you nodded fervently, meeting his challenge eagerly.
"Then open your mouth wide, my dear," he instructed, loosening his grip just enough to grant you a brief reprieve as he pulled his cock from your ass and pushed you onto the floor.
"You are going to swallow my cum without spilling a drop," he commanded sternly, towering over you.
Feeling violated and humiliated, you dropped obediently to your knees and took his rigid erection into your hungry mouth. Tears streamed down your face as you performed this degrading task, your pride battered and bruised beneath his feet.
Despite the overwhelming shame and embarrassment, you tried your utmost to satisfy him, hoping to regain even the slightest fragment of dignity that remained intact.
His manhood twitched visibly in response to your efforts, provoking him to grab your hair roughly, pulling your head closer to his groin.
"Keep it up, open your throat," he threatened gruffly, reaffirming his absolute control over you. Panicked, you obeyed without question, not wanting to anger him further. Every caress of his fingers through your strands sent shudders of fear down your spine, yet you continued to service him dutifully.
His member grew heavier in your mouth, swelling impossibly larger still as you worked harder to accommodate its size. You fought the urge to gag, concentrating solely on staying true to your promise to him. The struggle became evident in your reddened eyes and quivering jawline. Desperate to avoid his wrath, you tightened your grip on his length, sucking harder, and increasing the intensity of your movements.
Tommy let out a low growl of satisfaction, pleased with your performance.
"Here it comes, love. Feast upon my essence, my precious pet," he said, allowing his seminal fluid to pour forcefully into your awaiting mouth. The salty liquid flooded your palate, filling your mouth completely. The bitter flavor caused your lips to pucker. Still, you valiantly kept your mouth closed, determined not to defile his command.
Still holding your hair tightly, he allowed you to come up from your knees, bringing you into a standing position.
"Open and show me your tongue, I want to make sure you swallowed it all." Obeying, you extended your tongue to meet his inspection.
"Very good, my pet. Now get back on to your knees and clean off my cock properly," Tommy ordered coldly, releasing his grip on your hair. Observing his reaction, you hurriedly knelt before him, carefully opening your mouth to receive his cock once more. His phallus emerged from your mouth, wet and sticky, leaving behind traces of his seed.
"Lick it clean, come on!" he demanded brusquely, eyeing you critically. You complied immediately, not wanting to upset him anymore today. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you meticulously cleansed it, paying special attention to any lingering residues.
"That will do," he conceded finally, stepping away from you. Exhausted, you sank down onto the floor, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the events gradually subsided.
Looking up, you noticed Tommy surveying you with a mixture of admiration and contempt.
Clearly satisfied with your obedience, he smirked, wiping the remaining evidence of his domination from your lips with a smile.
"You did well tonight, pet," he admitted grudgingly, turning to leave. "And I cannot believe that your husband would share someone as divine as you are, sweetheart. I certainly would not share you with other men if you belonged to me, which makes me wonder what sort of man he is..." Tommy leered at you suggestively, his tone oozing confidence and superiority. You flinched involuntarily, unsure whether to feel insulted or intrigued by his brazen assessment. Feeling emboldened by his apparent interest, you sought to learn more about the enigmatic Mr. Shelby. "My husband... He is quite peculiar, sir," you hesitated, casting your eyes downward thoughtfully, without telling him that he was forcing you to do this for money.
#cillian murphy#cilliean murphy smut#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#tommy selby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby x you#tommy shelby#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinder imagine#tommy shelby fanfic
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Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:
First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)
You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.
You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.
Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)
Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.
You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.
Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)
You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.
You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.
Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)
It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.
You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.
Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)
You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.
"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.
"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.
"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"
"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.
"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"
"All the time," he says, and that's that.
The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.
#secret life smp#secret life spoilers#zombiecleo#ethoslab#a bee fic#trafficshipping#<- YEAH OKAY THIS IS A LITTLE MORE BLATANT THAN I NORMALLY AM.#you can read this platonically if you WANT but. it's. yeah it needs the tag.#anyway etho and cleo are soulmates but they're soulmates who very slowly and almost accidentally slid into being it#who built their way up to soulmates over time#do you understand me.#...also it DOES strike me the irony of tagging shipping on the fic where the lead SPECIFICALLY SAYS she hasn't fallen in love but#YOU KNOW. ITS THE VIBES.
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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 ? ! (𝐼𝐿 𝒟𝒪𝒯𝒯𝒪𝑅𝐸)
il dottore x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ female masturbation ﾉ test subject x mad scientist ﾉ degrading kink ﾉ clit play ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ size kink ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ◡ ˶ ◡ ꒱ྀི১
i wrote this a while ago 'n i just found it in my drafts 2 day so i figured i should finally post it ! i wld srsly do anything 'n everything 2 be dottore's test stubject he is soo perfect. art credits go to the lovely @/lllOhara ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !
Piercing red orbs scanned the room, scrutinizing every detail. His lips curled into a slight smirk as he saw your figure curled up, encapsulated within a metal cage, and suspended by thick ropes. You looked so small and frail, like a little bird locked away in its gilded cage. The man could hardly suppress a laugh as his eyes trailed up your naked figure, stopping when he saw your head hanging low. It was obvious you were still unconscious, but it wouldn't be long before you awoke. Your breathing had evened out, and the wounds you'd received were beginning to stitch themselves back together. It would seem that you had more fight in you than he'd initially anticipated, and for a brief moment he'd been afraid that he'd made a mistake by attempting to bring you here. But alas, his worries were unfounded. The Doctor was always right.
"Y/N," the man spoke, his voice a deep baritone. His words hung in the air as he waited for you to reply. When you didn't stir, his smirk only grew. "I know you're awake, pet," the Doctor spoke again, this time more clearly, "You're a terrible liar, my dear. Now, stop playing pretend and look at me."
His command was sharp and commanding, yet soft and inviting, and it forced you to comply. Slowly, you raised your head, eyes fluttering open, and met the Doctor's gaze. As your eyes landed on his form, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you, ranging from anger, to fear, and even a sense of longing. You couldn't help but notice the way the light reflected off of his ruby red irises, making them shine like the most brilliant of gems. It was then that you realized just how handsome the Doctor was. His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression serious and brooding, yet his mouth was pulled into a devious smile that made your heart race. The man's appearance was nothing short of regal, and he commanded respect from all who were lucky enough to meet him.
The mask he usually wore was gone, revealing his face in its entirety. You noticed how his lips were set into a thin line, and the way his nose curved downward towards his pointed chin. He was tall, much taller than you were, and his shoulders were broad and powerful. You found yourself mesmerized by the man before you, unable to take your eyes off him, even as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. It was a strange sensation, this mixture of fear and desire, and you had no idea what to do with it. Were you attracted to the Doctor? Perhaps… perhaps not, but something inside of you wanted him, that was for certain.
Your body betrayed you as you shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, drawing his attention to your nudity. Your nipples had hardened, and your core throbbed with need, aching for release. It wasn't right, you thought to yourself, you shouldn't feel this way about someone who'd captured you, imprisoned you, and planned on experimenting on you. But the longer you stared, the more you wanted him, and the more your mind seemed to lose focus on anything else. Your vision swam as a haze clouded your thoughts, leaving you completely intoxicated with desire. And just like that, you lost control. Your legs parted instinctively, and your hips bucked upward, grinding against the bars of your prison. It was almost as if your body had a mind of its own. You'd never felt anything like it before. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop yourself. It was like you'd gone mad, your body reacting on its own accord, no longer caring about consequences or rational thought. And the worst part was, you loved every second of it. Your cheeks flushed crimson as you writhed beneath him, the cool metal of the cage rubbing against your sex, sending shivers down your spine.
You could feel his gaze upon you, watching as your breasts bounced and jiggled while you rode the bars of the cage, grinding yourself against them. Your moans grew louder, and your breathing became labored. It was so good, you thought to yourself, too good. You couldn't help but wonder, had you really gone insane? Were you really willing to sacrifice yourself just for the sake of pleasure? And yet, here you were, doing exactly that. And the man watched, his expression unchanging, save for the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. His lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he enjoyed your performance. Your moans echoed throughout the laboratory, drowning out the sounds of the machines and equipment around you. It was beautiful, he thought, how could something so lewd and vulgar be so breathtakingly gorgeous? You were like a living work of art, and he could watch you for hours.
You felt your climax approaching, and you tried desperately to stave it off, not wanting the Doctor to see you in such a state. However, you were powerless to stop it. Your orgasm tore through your body, causing your limbs to spasm uncontrollably. Your head lolled forward, and your jaw fell open, letting loose a series of breathy whimpers. Your hips bucked upwards, slamming into the bars, forcing your body against the cold metal. The pleasure was indescribable, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was intense, raw, and powerful, and it left you panting heavily. You could feel the slickness coating the bars, and the smell of your arousal permeated the air. You were completely spent, utterly exhausted from the force of your orgasm, and yet somehow you felt invigorated. You couldn't remember the last time you had came so hard, and the intensity of it took your breath away.
A low rumble reverberated throughout the laboratory, and you could feel the vibrations travel up your spine. The machine beside you was whirring to life, and a loud clicking sound filled the room as its gears began to turn. You couldn't understand what it was doing, or what it meant, but the Doctor seemed pleased by whatever results were displayed. He walked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours, and knelt down beside the cage. He placed his gloved hands against the bars, gripping them tightly, and leaned in close. "That was quite impressive," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear, "Now, let's see what other noises I can pull from that pretty little mouth of yours."
Dottore pressed a button, and the cage was lowered to the ground. You looked up at him, and your eyes met his, and his hand moved to the lock, sliding a key inside. The door opened with a loud click, and he stepped back, allowing you to crawl out. Once you were free, the Doctor grabbed hold of your hair, yanking you forward. You stumbled slightly, and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly against him, causing your dripping cunt to rub against his groin. A moan escaped your lips as his erection pressed into you, and you felt him twitch in response. "Ahh.." he breathed, his grip tightening around you, "I'm afraid I can't wait any longer."
With one fluid motion, he lifted you into the air, and carried you across the room. He set you down onto a large, cushioned table, and began removing his clothes. You watched him closely, taking in every detail of his muscular frame, admiring the way his muscles rippled under his pale skin. The Doctor's gaze remained locked on yours, and his pupils were dilated, filled with lust. You noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and your mouth watered as he unzipped his trousers, revealing his swollen member. His cock was massive, thick and long, and it stood proudly at attention, leaking precum down the shaft. He stroked himself lazily, and a deep growl rumbled from his throat. "Do you see what you've done to me, pet?" he asked, his voice husky with desire, "This is all because of you."
You swallowed hard, and nodded, biting your lip as he stroked himself faster. He continued pumping his fist, until his cock glistened with precum. His hand traveled lower, and he cupped his balls, massaging them gently. "Such a naughty little thing, making me hard like this.." he purred, his voice low and husky, "You'll have to pay for that.." The Doctor grabbed hold of your wrists, and forced you onto all fours, getting on the table behind you. "I'm going to break your fucking mind, pet." He growled, "You'll be too fucked up to think straight when I'm done with you." His words sent shivers down your spine, and you whimpered softly as his cock brushed against your slit. He pushed inside of you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. His length stretched you to the limit, filling you completely. You cried out in pleasure as his cock slammed into you, burying itself inside your wet cunt. Your walls clenched around him, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, digging into your skin. His thrusts were slow and steady, his pace leisurely, and his eyes never left yours. Your head rolled back, and your body shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.
Dottore's heavy balls smacked against your clit, all while his cock reached places inside of you that hadn't been touched in a long time. He groaned as he bottomed out, pushing deep into your depths, making sure his full length was seethed inside of you. His movements were unhurried, but firm, cock swelling with need as he fucked into your cunt. Your hands clawed at the table, nails digging into the leather, leaving long scratches across the surface. You moaned loudly, unable to contain your sounds of pleasure. "Fuck.." he cursed, "Your pussy's so damn tight.." Your walls squeezed around him, pulling him deeper, causing his hips to stutter. He grunted, and began pumping his hips, pistoning into your core with renewed vigor. His cock slammed into you over and over again, until he finally released a torrent of hot cum into your womb, coating your insides with his seed. His grip tightened around your hips, and he pulled you closer, pressing his chest against your back. "That's it," he growled, his breath hot against your neck, "Take all of it." His words were like music to your ears, and you did as he commanded, letting him fill you up with his thick load. Your body shook, and your eyes rolled back as you fucked yourself onto his dick, slamming yourself back against his groin. He growled low in his throat, and began thrusting harder, using you like a living fleshlight. Your moans grew louder, echoing through the laboratory, filling the air with lewd, obscene sounds. Your juices flowed freely, mixing with his cum, creating a sticky mess between your legs. He pounded into you with such force that the table rattled beneath you, causing it to shake violently.
"Ohhh..oh fuck…fuck, mm-! L-Love it, I love it so muchhh..!" you gasped, tears stinging your eyes as he fucked your brains out, your walls milking his cock, "'m gonna cum..c- h-haahh…so-so close…w-wanna cum on y-your cock…" Your words were slurred, and incoherent, and your body trembled uncontrollably as you neared your peak. "Mm? Is that so?" the Doctor questioned, "Are you gonna cum for your dear Dottore?" You nodded frantically, a hand jumping to your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between your fingers. "Y-Yes…please…p-plea- please make me cum.." you begged, voice strained and shaky, "C-Can't wait..need to…n-nowww..!!" Your words were cut off as your back arched, body trembling as your squirted, splattering him with your juices. Your body went rigid, and your mouth hung open, a scream escaping your lips as he pumped another load of his thick cum into your used hole. "Oh, you little slut," he laughed, his cock still buried deep inside you, "What a mess you've made, Y/N." He held you in place as his seed seeped out of you, dribbling down the front of the table. You couldn't move, your legs had given out, and you collapsed onto the table, panting heavily. Your body was covered in sweat, and your cheeks flushed red, and you could barely keep your eyes open. The Doctor chuckled, and kissed the back of your neck.
"Mmh, don't go falling asleep on me now.." he chided, "We're far from finished."
#୧ ‧₊˚ ☆ athena's creations !#genshin impact#genshin#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin x reader smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x reader smut#dottore smut#dottore x reader#dottore x reader smut#dottore#il dottore#il dottore smut#il dottore x reader#il dottore x reader smut#fatui harbingers#genshin fatui#fatui#genshin impact fatui
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Darkest Hour
For the ones who dream of being the only choice x
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary - Even if hating him is the answer to your problems, your Shadowsinger will always love you.
Warnings - mentions of torture, wing loss, angst, self hatred, depression, heart breaking fluff
The chill of the Night Court breeze drifted across your face, swirls of it scuttering across you bare, scarred back, soothing that roaring hot ache that rippled through your shoulderblades.
It was strange, to feel everything but nothing at all.
Chapped lips and a raw throat encased your rage, the rage that made you shake, the rage that made you tremble and turn cold and sour.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.
Your wings. Your beautiful midnight blue wings with trunks of black membrane had been carved from your body, the last test to see if you'd break, to see if you'd give in to Beron's demands of information about Nyx, about Feyre, about the Made Archeron sisters. You gave them nothing, but it had cost you too much.
Only Rhys knew what had happened to you in that chamber after diving into your unconscious mind, even then the flashes of memory were too sickening to share, to the point that even he had gone pale, had gone so far to empty the contents of his stomach in the nearest empty vase.
He adored you. They all did. A little sister of the Inner Circle, so pure and full of light, a never-ending smile, a kindness no one would dare to taint. You were like a breath of balanced air, full of life and teeming with outspoken serenity. You were the safe place, the shoulder to cry on, the daybreak at the end of the storm.
Now, now you were nothing but an empty vessel.
It broke them to see you so pale, so lifeless, staring out of the window with bleak colourless eyes whilst you lay on you front to avoid irritating the still healing scars on your back. They shouldn't have sent you, they shouldn't let you go alone. They knew that Beron thought you were a monstrosity, they knew it and they let you walk into the Autumn Court unaccompanied regardless of their knowledge.
They had failed you.
Words hadn't left your lips. No food had been eaten, even those cakes you loved so much from the bakery went stale on your bedside table. All you did was stare out of that slightly ajar window, whimpering softly when someone tried to close it to keep any form of warmth within you.
Azriel was beside himself. Mirroring you, he hadn't eaten, he didn't sleep; all he did was drown himself in the deserved self loathing that came with the guilt of not being able to find you sooner, to save you from what you were feeling. Large bags of purple and onyx clung to the sunken skin beneath his eyes, he wasn't sure if you felt his presence in the room with you, but all he could do was watch as you slowly stretched your fingertips toward the window with a flash of longing in your eyes.
Then the monster within you had prowled out of its cage, and you turned cold and distant, only allowing Mor and Mor alone to tend to you, but even then you said little if anything at all and barely left the ice cold confinements of your room.
Everything hurt.
Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt.
You didn't want to do it anymore.
Then, you broke.
The floor was freezing beneath your feet as you placed them onto the wood for what felt like the first time in months, you shakily stood, using one of the pillars of your bed to help you. It was so dark in there bar the slits of moonlight that kissed the ground at your feet, the stars shone brighter as you shuffled along the ground, you loose nightgown swaying with every step.
You had lost weight, you'd felt it drop from your body, and that wasn't just the weight of your former wings. It was you, slowly decaying before your own eyes with no willingness to stop it.
Warmth whooshed into the room once you opened the door, warm light pouring in from the hallway, and the sound of faint laughter drifted up the stairs. Silently, you moved further toward it, not making a single sound as you descended the winding staircase, halting a few steps from the bottom and watching their warm smiles and gentle laugher pool at the centre of their collective consciousness.
They looked happy. Happy.
Azriel felt you first, his head snapping to the right so abruptly that everyone else's followed. The room turned cold and you shuddered and the sudden change, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to go to you. Pale skin and lips greeted them, black-grey veins of exhaustion tugged at your eyes and cheeks, your chest struggled to heave in a breath, and you looked at them with such despair, such hatred, that he had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.
You huffed out an incredulous breath, almost a scoff, "Enjoying yourselves?"
Rhys tentatively rose to his feet, sensing the conflicting emotions within you, sensing the kettle boiling over into searing hot anger, "Y/N," you saw his flattened hand in the air, he used it when he wanted to calm down a hostile situation, he was using it on you.
"Don't say that name," you had snarled, "I stopped being her the moment I lost them," you felt unworthy, you felt ashamed, "I protected you," your eyes darted to Rhys, then to Feyre, to Nesta and Elain, "I didn't give them a single thing and I'm the one who lost everything. For you. I wish I had given one of you over to him, I wish that I didn't have to give the only thing I had to protect people who wouldn't protect me," you were panting, you hands reaching over your shoulder and ghosting at the tips of the gruesome crescent shaped scars embedded into your shoulders.
A gentle tug pulled your attention away from them, they had all risen to their feet, looking at you with alarm and eyes laced with pity, and guilt. So much guilt. You attention shifted to your feet, to the little winged child that stood there, his bright eyes staring up at you with a tsunami of love, his tiny hand grabbing for you, and you indulged him, letting him take your finger in his hand and send warmth flowing up your arm.
Azriel swore he could see some of the colour return to your skin.
Azriel watched as that one touch broke you, you screwed your eyes shut and tears escaped from them, flowing down your cheeks as sobs stung at your chest, he wasn't sure if you could handle the pressure of them.
The night you were due to return was the supposed to be the night that Azriel told you that he was your mate, after 400 years of loving you and 60 years after the bond had snapped for him. He'd been so nervous to the point he'd enlisted Cassian and Elain to help him plan some elaborate evening for you. A hot bath with the lavender soak you loved so much, brand new books he had convinced the author to release early for you, your favourite chocolates, a bottle of your favourite wine, and a letter from him confessing his love for you. He knew how much you cherished letters. You'd kept every letter from all of them in the 400 years they had known you and loved you, they lay sleeping in boxes under your bed.
It hadn't snapped for you yet but you had unleashed all of your pain down the bond, not even searching for him, but feeling too much of the all-consuming pain that your soul was screaming for a moment of light. Just a minute of something else other than pain.
It nearly suffocated him.
Nesta moved to you, almost knocking her chair over in the process and wrapped her arms around you, shielding you by pushing your head into the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through your limp hair, finding more knots than perfect glossy strands and felt herself breaking at how thin you had become.
"It's okay to be angry, Y/N. It's okay to hate us. It's okay," she whispered to you, turning her head to the side and pleading to Azriel to come to you.
He did without a moments hesitation.
Nesta passed you into his awaiting arms, night kissed mountains and cedar engulfed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into him as he rubbed soft circles into your back, relieving some of that aching tension that had become unbearable, "Hate me as much as you need to, I can take it. I can take all of your anger and darkness, let me take it."
"I'm so tired," you loosely wrapped your arms around him and sobbed, Azriel knew how exhausted you were, he could feel it in your trembling bones how close you were to passing out from the feeling.
"Okay," he moved to scoop you up into his arms, holding you so gently like he was afraid you'd snap in two in his hands, "That's something we can fix. One day at a time. We can do this."
Since that night, you felt lighter.
Months had passed, and thanks to Rhys and Cassian, you found your strength again. Thanks to Nesta, you found joy again. Thanks to Feyre and Nyx, you found passion again. Thanks to Mor and Elain, you'd gotten that innocent wonder back.
And Azriel, you had him to thank for it all.
He had been so gentle with you, coaxing you into physical therapy with promises of warm baths and healing creams, and making sure you ate and drank and found reasons to be happy again. The first laugh from your lips almost made him faint, it was accompanied by that sparkle in your eyes that he had missed too much.
Colour had returned to your skin, your hair had returned to its glossy hue, your smile was wide and bright, and even without your wings that he knew you missed, you were by far the most beautifully resilient creature he had ever seen.
You had closed the bedroom window, allowing him to light a fire and settle into his embrace whilst you both read your books. He had given you the one he was supposed gift to you and could have swooned at the smile you gave him.
"What do you think about mates?" It startled him, it made his heart physically halt in his chest and he moved his chin from the top of your head to look down at you. "Do you believe that there is a perfect half of your soul out there?"
"I do. I know it actually," he told you and you craned your neck upward to look at him properly, flushed cheeks and all.
"Yeah," you eyes twinkled, "How?"
"Because I know who it is I hope to see every morning for the rest of my life."
Your smile faltered, "Do I know her?" You shuffled onto your side, your book forgotten on the floor and arm tucked beneath your head.
Azriel mirrored you, settling into the space beside you, "Very well actually. She is bold and beautiful. Her laugh is the symphony of my dreams and memories. Her being herself is always going to be enough for me. It was inevitable really, to fall for her, it was beyond the scope of my control, the first time I saw her I just knew that she was the person my heart had been craving my entire life. She makes me laugh when all I want to do is hide away from the world. She makes it so easy to see the beauty in everything."
"She sounds perfect, Az," he noticed your sad eyes and the way you had curled up into yourself, but still holding on to every single word he said.
"And even when she lost everything, in a way I think it made me love her more, because even in the darkest hour of her life, she still managed to pull herself out of it, to feel and shine again," he turned to you, your brows furrowed and a small gasp floating from you, "I am completely, utterly, totally, in love with you, Y/N. You are the one my soul sings for," his shadows moved to you, curling around your face and torso, the inky tendrils kissing your exposed skin, "And I promise to love you no matter what life throws at us."
Tears pooled at your eyes and he grasped for you, rolling you onto you back so that his face was hovering above your own.
It happened then, that fairy tale snap you had never thought you'd own, the one you'd never thought you deserved. A split soul merging into one, singing in golden light as tendrils of thread sewed your hearts together, "I was so horrible to you."
Azriel shushed you, "I have loved you for 400 years, Y/N. You have been my light for so long, even when I didn't want one, you were there to pull me out," you cupped his face in your hands, "You have no idea how many lives you have impacted by just existing, I can't imagine a moment without you. I'll never tire of hearing what's going on in that strange little mind of yours. To put it in simple terms, there's not one part of you that I don't want, not a single part of you that I don't adore."
Tears fell from your eyes and he wiped them away, his body entangled with yours, "I don't know what to say."
"Just tell me that you love me. Tell me you're mine," Azriel pleaded, his hazel eyes glistening with a love you'd never seen before, not even between Feyre and Rhys, your soul pulsated with that freshly bound power and you sighed, pulling him closer to you.
Pressing your forehead to his you muttered the words, "I love you Azriel, and I am yours forever, in my darkest of hours and most beautiful of days. I love you."
brb sobbing x
#fanfiction#imagine#acotar fanfiction#acotar#maasverse#acotar imagine#azriel x reader#rhysand#mor acotar#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fic#acotar oneshot#fluff#acotar angst#cassian#nesta#elain archeron#feyre archeron#rhys acotar#azriel#acotar x reader#acotar fic#acotar fluff
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