#core it’s always so jarring

[brzatto]

this vanity fair article will always be the funniest thing in the world to me i don’t think i’ve ever seen a cast whose actors’ personalities line up so fundamentally with the characters they play

[falderaletcetera]

listen. I don't just love father brown because I first saw it while ill with the flu or because it's consistently kind to the outcast in a way that has reviewers calling it Too Woke, obviously a vote in its favour. or because the recurring thief character is very pretty to watch. though those are significant parts of it.

I love it because after eight seasons father brown sits down with the village drunk (a munitions expert in the war, has a soft spot for the parish secretary, name of harold or blind harry) to find out why he gave a murder suspect a false alibi and harry explains to him, calm as you like, that seeing the life leave someone's eyes changes a person, that it's what he reckons brought father brown to his faith, that it's what drove him to drink, and he didn't see that shadow in the guy the police are chasing this time. and father brown, rather than justifying or correcting or dodging or doubting him, says he knows how unjust the situation is. that he got something good out of the horrors of the war. that harry really didn't.

it is not a perfect show and yes I have problems with it but gosh, this is a character who's largely used for comedic beats, albeit kindly, and a scene like this isn't out of place at all but it still takes my breath away. we could've been left with this as subtext, y'know? I hadn't even put together that his alcoholism must have been trauma. but instead harry tells us this directly, tells us it's about guilt, that that's something he shares with father brown, who is competent and so often cheerful and I can't even imagine when he was younger, and it's a moment of such unexpected humanity and respect. and it's such a strange thing to see these characters side by side like that.

the scene ends with father brown calling harry a good man, and harry denying it ("they was only young lads" "so were we, harold. so were we.") and the two them sharing a drink as father brown gets a bit watery-eyed and I'm crying too over my nice cosy 'this is a concerning number of murders for a sleepy english village' show and just. hi. what. ow.

I also haven't recovered from the episode that turned into a heist halfway through but frankly I'm only mentioning that because I don't know how to wrap up a post like this. (it was good though. there were two separate honeypots, three if you count the impromptu replacement, one character terrible at grifting and one unexpectedly great at it, and, somehow, a con within a con. it was really very fun. get a show that can do both, I guess?)

[itspileofgoodthings]

So sorry if this is bothering you but so curious as well... why do you hate Guts?

Thanks for your time ❤

you’re not bothering me!

I think the simplest way to answer this is with one of Olivia’s own lyrics from pretty isn’t pretty when she sings “none of it matters and none of it ends” because. That is kind of her whole ethos about how life works. She believes that! And so her work, to me, is profoundly cynical and self-absorbed because it can’t point to anything bigger (none of it matters) so it revolves purely around her own feelings. It won’t ever situate itself in a wider picture. And I love whining in a song tbh. I love when an artist captures those uglier emotions —the discontent, the restlessness, the irritation, the blandness and staleness of it all and the railing against it—because those are all part of the human experience. I am continually shocked—it is shoCKING—by how many negative emotions I can and do experience over and over again. But it is thankfully against the backdrop of reality. My bad moods are something that can be so unpleasant to feel and so ugly to witness—I wrestle with how ugly and small my suffering is—but there is a way in which, all discourse about the validity of any and all of my feelings accounted for, those aren’t real. Just symptoms of my suffering and sometimes my convalescence (lol, love a symptom of convalescence) but reality is still always so much realer. It’s always ready to break in a million times a day; the beauty and sturdiness of reality, the texture of existence, as Flannery O’Connor once said, is always there and with enough time (and with patience and help and love) I can get back to contact with it. Not just the state of my own mind full of bitterness and worry and pain, endlessly stewing in its own unhappiness.

I am not good at that, it takes a lot to get me there. But I guess my point is—to circle back—Olivia’s music doesn’t try and doesn’t want to. Its scope is so narrow, every song no matter how pleasing at first eventually sours (lololololol) because it’s JUST rooted in her own experience, generally her own suffering. And there’s no sharpness or cleverness in the world (she can be both sharp and clever!) that can hide that lack of range. So you hear a song once—for me, it was brutal—-and you’re like YEAH. I recognize this kind of whininess because I’ve felt it before. There is something true to it! But the more she writes the more you watch her do it over and over again (sonically, too, she loves to speak-talk and tbh they’re just sub-par remixes of brutal) the more you start to be like “oh, is that it? We’re not going anywhere with this? There’s no turn or catharsis or bridge or anything that lifts us out of this even for a second?” and it’s just —blegh.

And the thing is there doesn’t even have to be, like, some triumphant girlboss victory where she feels better. I’m not saying her songs are bad because they’re sad and depressing. It’s that they establish no outside contact with reality. They are, for all her clever little film-noir references or whatever, only ever self-referential. And that gets old so fast no matter who is talking.

[astonmartinii]

little lion | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem young mum!reader

journalists go digging in max's past and think they've found f1's next big scandal - but they underestimate just how protective max is of his little lion

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1tea

liked by user5, user6 and 23,095 others

f1tea: this is y/n y/ln the supposed baby momma of max verstappen. not much is known about her, with her only going back to work recently as a therapist in monaco.

her and max had their baby, a girl, back when they were 17 in 2015. max has never been seen in public with the child and has never publicly claimed her either.

will we see her in the paddock now all the news is out?

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user7: holy shit this is insane

user8: this poor girl doesn't deserve this

user9: literally, either max is a present father and is just private or he doesn't have anything to do with them? but it coming out like this is probably stressful regardless

user10: also by my calculations, the baby will be nearly nine, so probably has a concept of fame and celebrity and if they haven't gone to a race it's probably for a reason

user11: i mean the way people are already talking about them proves them right already

user12: ted kravitz telling it like it is 🤲

user13: no he's not ??? he basically went on broadcast to call y/n a slut and try and say that he was 'always right about max because this proves he is reckless'

user14: once again, this child is eight and could understand some of this if they see it

user15: also the incidents ted is bringing up happened EIGHT YEARS AGO stop bringing a child into your weird agenda

user16: if he's not careful red bull will ban sky from their media run again

user17: i found her instagram and max, alex and daniel all follow her so it's defo legit

user18: i also found it but it's private :(

user19: i tried to follow but got blocked :/

user20: do you people have rocks for brains if it's private it means we're not meant to find it, if she's not spoken about it in eight years that means IT'S NOT OUR BUSINESS

user21: someone tell max to get a DNA test asap, gold diggers will do anything for money and fame

user22: what fame? she's got like 400 followers and has never spoken about max to any media outlet

user23: the way you people jump to gold digging allegations kill me

user24: also if max is the dead beat that sky are trying to make him out to be and y/n is a gold digger then why haven't we seen some child support claims and whatnot

user25: you have no shame posting this, if she didn't want to be found she doesn't want to be found

user26: f1 vultures at their best

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,389,774 others

maxverstappen1: i've seen a lot of journalists and 'professionals' trying to point score with the 'big revelation' of my daughter. sydney is the love of my life and for someone who grew up in the public eye i thought it would be best to keep my daughter away from the circus. not that i owe it to any of you people, but i see syd as much as i possibly can and i didn't want to post her or bring her to the paddock until she could make that choice for herself. y/n is a wonderful mother and is the exact support system i would want for my daughter.

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user27: MAX IS A GIRL DAD?

user28: congratulations media and internet you forced him to expose his kid

user29: the way they probably see this as a victory annoys me to my core

yourusername: you're an amazing father max, don't let them tell you anything else. sydney loves you and that's all that matters.

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n, i miss you both - see you this weekend!

yourusername: we look forward to it! x

user30: she didn't say that she loves him too so they're defo not together

user31: will you people ever learn to read the room?

user32: oh wow so max does see his daughter - watch sky still run with the deadbeat angle

user33: they were so shameless about his SLEEP SCHEDULE i cannot imagine the shit crofty is going to throw at him over this

danielricciardo: i'm sorry for how this has all come out max but i'm so glad i can publicly express my love for my god daughter!

maxverstappen1: this might mean that you can give her all of your gifts in person (if she wants to come) lord knows i can never fit them back in my suitcase

user34: you literally have a private jet?

maxverstappen1: you underestimate how seriously daniel takes being a god parent

danielricciardo: i think i'm singlehandedly keeping jellycat in business tbf

yourusername: and ikea, i have to buy a new shelving unit every couple of weeks daniel

danielricciardo: SYD IS MY BEST FRIEND LEAVE ME ALONE

user35: drop 💥 the 💥 daniel 💥 and 💥 sydney 💥 photos 💥 now 💥

user36: actually don't i don't think my baby fever can take it

alexalbon: you're an amazing father max and sydney is the coolest girl in the world!

maxverstappen1: thank you alex 😊

alexalbon: also if you ever convince y/n to come to races PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make her bake me some of her iconic brownies

yourusername: alex you know i can just bake you some and send them to you via max

alexalbon: please 😫😫😫

yourusername: no worries albono, you're a growing boy you need the nutrients

maxverstappen1: they're brownies

alexalbon: i need y/n's brownies to deal with YOU

maxverstappen1: ok maybe this is why i don't want to introduce you all :(

yourusername: don't worry maxie i'll make you some goodies to go

maxverstappen1: thank you :)

user37: she makes him to-go goodies 🥹

yourusername

liked by feranandoalo_oficial, danielricciardo and 319,506 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm not very happy that i have to make this statement like this because people couldn't respect the boundaries max and i have set as parents but alas: max is the loveliest man in the world and the best father sydney could ask for. he has a very busy life but he still makes as much time as possible for syd and she loves him very much. max has been in the spotlight from a very young age and did not want that pressure and spectacle on his own daughter. we may have never been together, but max has never been the monster you're trying to make him out to be. please respect my daughter's privacy. thank you.

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user41: once again, this is a very cute family but god this is a horrible way to find out about them :(

user42: i hope they know so so many of us are supporting them

danielricciardo: syd has grown so much i actually feel kind of sick

yourusername: i was a mess on her first day of school :(

danielricciardo: oh i can imagine ... max never told us but i'm sure he was his usual stoic self

yourusername: he tried, but we did both cry over a carton of ice cream for the whole morning

maxverstappen1: IT WAS A VERY EMOTIONAL MORNING

yourusername: it really was 🥺

user43: i'm sorry but why do two europeans have a daughter called SYDNEY?

maxverstappen1: she's nearly eight... i made my f1 debut in australia eight years ago... i can't hold your hand any more than that

user44: LMAOOOOOOO

danielricciardo: i am HURT i thought she was named after her beloved god father?

yourusername: if that was the case do you not think we would've gone for the more obvious option of DANIELLE???

maxverstappen1: also you were just an acquaintance and childhood crush at that point daniel

yourusername: omg childhood crush on daniel SNAP

danielricciardo: i'm not that old???

maxverstappen1: we have such good taste

yourusername: we REALLY do

user44: so like they're defo flirting right?

user45: ugh you people have no class (i hope so)

landonorris: i'm so sorry for you guys BUT THANK GOD IT WAS SO HARD TO KEEP HER A SECRET

maxverstappen1: i mean y/n and i kept her a secret for like nearly eight years 🤨

yourusername: i also 100% caught your slip ups you're just lucky there was never any rumour at those times

landonorris: I AM A BLABBERMOUTH PLEASE BE PROUD OF ME

maxverstappen1: fine?

yourusername: i'd be more proud but everyone else also kept the secret sooooo ???

alexalbon

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 894,503 others

tagged: lilymunhe, yourusername

alexalbon: with permission i am now allowed to post my bestest friend in the world!

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user46: god has heard my prayers and gave me my alex and sydney content

user47: i'd say what a random pairing but i think my brain just blocked out alex at red bull as a trauma response

alexalbon: lord knows i only got through being locked in the sim with y/n's brownies and hugs from syd

yourusername: syd asked for her favourite uncle to score more points so we can get ice cream again

alexalbon: i'll fix the damn williams myself

yourusername: hurry up she's getting impatient (i have no clue where she gets that from)

maxverstappen1: I AM NOT IMPATIENT I JUST LIKE THINGS BEING DONE IN A PROMPT MANNER

yourusername: is that what you tell the engineers?

maxverstappen1: ... something along those lines

yourusername: are you going to get more community service?

maxverstappen1: i don't think there were any cameras ???

user48: so max doesn't believe in not swearing around kids... how bad is it with sydney?

maxverstappen1: i am on my BEST behaviour for her

alexalbon: she's like a little sailor

maxverstappen1: in my defence she's much cuter when she swears than me

charles_leclerc: is this why she called me a wanker when i didn't bring leo to the house?

yourusername: i fear that has alex albon written all over it

alexalbon: whoops!

lilymunhe: we need another play date asap !! he goes so mushy i can get him to do all the cute dates i wanna do

yourusername: is that why i got given a badly painted mug?

alexalbon: hey! i worked very hard on that :(

maxverstappen1: i thought sydney painted it alex

alexalbon: can you guys stop ganging up on me :(((((

yourusername: no!

maxverstappen1: 😘

user49: feeling some ... tension here

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,450,987 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: guess who wanted to come see dad at work?

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user51: oh she really is max verstappen's daughter with that cold middle finger to ted kravitz

user52: are they going to make an eight year old do community service as well?

yourusername: great now she's attached to the engineers

maxverstappen1: oh noooooooooo how will we ever cope??? maybe we should all go to every race ???

yourusername: that would be very convenient, wouldn't it?

maxverstappen1: i can see you smiling while typing, i don't think you're as opposed as you say you are

yourusername: you got me! i like to see syd happy :(

maxverstappen1: and me...?

yourusername: and you, i guess 😚

user53: so like are we just going to ignore all of this ^^ and the second picture?

user54: it would be nice that through all the shit they've had thrown at them that they got together through it

danielricciardo: he's been waiting long enough

maxverstappen1: DANIEL???

danielricciardo: what ???

user55: daniel, thank you for your service

user56: i mean we've seen them at one race and it's crazy to think they're not together

alexalbon: why did i have to track my bestie down at the hotel? you verstappens too good for the williams garage?

yourusername: we were busy !!!

alexalbon: franco is distraught

francocolapinto: i am?

alexalbon: yes!!!!

francocolapinto: i am!

maxverstappen1: stop yapping for the love of god i was getting my shit together - something YOU told me to do

alexalbon: fine... i guess

user57: so like that's confirmation right?

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 2,349,855 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm still reporting all you journalists to the ethics boards but i guess something good did come out of all of this

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user58: FUCK SKY SPORTS BUT THANK THE LORD THIS IS SO CUTE

user59: a family that flips off ted kravitz together, stays together!

user60: y/n's dirty look at him will forever be legendary

maxverstappen1: i've always loved you, and i've loved playing the long game with you and prioritising syd !! here's to the rest of our lives xx

yourusername: i've always loved you too but as convoluted as it has been i think this has been the best way to be - all love to syd first

maxverstappen1: but now we can cut the shit and do all the cute things without it having to be a 'play date'

yourusername: i love you dummy, but your cats are mine now

maxverstappen1: they've always been yours, just like me

user61: okay fuck you guys this is too fucking cute

user62: no because i'm too chronically lonely to read this this morning

landonorris: FINALLY, I COULDN'T KEEP ANOTHER SECRET FOR MUCH LONGER

danielricciardo: booooooo, we've all kept this secret you're not special

landonorris: i thought i was the only one who max told about his feelings? like literally on the podium when he saw y/n and syd watching?

oscarpiastri: i think you just can't read people lando, even i knew max liked y/n and i've only seen them interact THIS WEEKEND

alexalbon: we've all known forever lando, you're not getting sympathy for keeping the secret for 12 hours

user63: the grid being so protective of the lil family is so cute

user64: i read that george got the GDPA to sign a petition that the media couldn't ask about syd before max was ready to start the conversation himself

user65: also by the sounds of it, they've been rooting for this relationship just as long as max and y/n

maxverstappen1: i'm so lucky to have two amazing girls in my life, i'll love you forever and as long as you'll have me

yourusername: now i have you, i'm never letting you go

maxverstappen1: right back at you

yourusername: you're the bestest father ever and the love of my life, never let anyone tell you anything else my gentle boy

maxverstappen1: i love you both more than anything ever, you're my guardian angel and syd is my favourite little lion

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN BIRTHDAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE !!!

[rindreamery]

it's just instinct, all i want is you.

how long it takes for the blue lock men to realize you’re the one.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku

it takes itoshi rin 6 months.

rin likes to think that he’s slow and deliberate with his relationships— that he’s not the type to have such decisive thoughts about someone so early on. he’s spent years building up a wall to protect his feelings, and he’s not about to let a (potentially fleeting) person ruin what he's worked so hard to maintain. he's only been with you for 6 months, and he has his doubts about whether you would want to stick around. but all it takes is, “i’m so proud of you, rin,” and his world is completely tilted off its axis.

he tries to tell himself that it's nothing; he's been complimented by other people before.

you probably didn't even think much of it when you told him. it’s just a simple phrase, one of many that people say without thinking. but it's different, it's special, when it's coming from you. your words repeat in his head, like some mantra. it's like his senses are overwhelmed by you. he finds himself focusing solely on your voice, the way you look at him with such gentle eyes, the sincerity behind your words— you. it’s scary how much it affects him. it rattles something deep inside of him, and it shakes him to his core.

he doesn't want to hear it from anyone else, he quickly realizes. those praises don't mean much when it's not coming from you. they don't make him feel unstoppable, like he’s on some high that he’ll never be able to get down from. and he's hit with a jarring realization—

“say it again,” he's standing in front of you, ignoring the incessant flashing of cameras that surrounds him and the deafening cheers of the crowd. he's only looking at you.

“i’m so proud of you,” your voice is quiet, but all he can hear is you, “rin.”

—he's fallen for you, much deeper than he thought he would. he’d be damned if he let you slip away.

it takes itoshi sae 1 year and 3 months.

sae had no intention of falling in love with you. needless to say, his affection for you wasn’t some calculated move. the thought of liking you hadn’t even crossed his mind, and he’s not even sure if he’d ever considered you as a friend. you’ve just been around for long enough that he’s stopped questioning it, that he’s grown to tolerate your presence. at least, that’s what he tells himself. he lets you come over when you want, eat all the snacks in his pantry, use his netflix account— to everyone else, you’re basically a couple. before he knows it, you’ve settled into his life the way a familiar song gets stuck in his head without him noticing.

it’s hard to deny the noticeable shift in sae’s behavior whenever he’s around you.

the way the frown on sae’s face vanishes to a more passive state whenever he’s talking to you, and he's much less irritated at the aspect of having to answer your random (but stupid, in his opinion) questions. he’s not aware, but a part of him subconsciously looks forward to it. “would you still love me if i was a worm?” comes another one of your stupid questions, and he answers without thinking.

“yeah.” the expression on his face remains the same, he’s as indifferent as he always is. but his answer takes both of you by surprise. under his cool facade, his mind is scrambling to make sense of his answer, as if he hadn’t expected himself to say such a thing.

you’re flustered, and it’s evident in the way you stumble over your words. a part of you begins to wonder if that was simply a figment of your imagination, like some hallucination from sleep deprivation. “what— huh?”

so he plays it off, he acts as if he meant to say it. “you heard what i said.” he realizes his heart had decided on you longer than he’d ever been aware of.

it takes nagi seishiro 3 months.

nagi’s used to being alone— he’s used to neglecting himself and every aspect of his life because no one is there to tell him not to do so. he’s not used to having someone be a constant in his life, to have someone who isn’t thrown off by his apathetic and lazy attitude. sometimes he wonders if he acts this way to keep people out, and he wonders why you choose to stay despite. but slowly, you color your way into his bleak routine.

at first, it’s subtle. you linger around him, but your presence isn’t demanding for his attention. you’re there, but you let him be.

and then your presence becomes something a little more prominent. he starts to notice the little post-it notes you leave in his locker, and how you remember to sneak in his favorite snacks. or how his pillows start to smell like your shampoo, and the way he becomes used to having you there in his living room as he plays video games. or even the fact that he finds himself waiting by the gate when classes end, and how he doesn’t mind being pushed around by the crowd as he searches for you in the endless sea of students so he could walk with you. so he could be with you.

he starts to feel like he’s truly living, like there’s something to look forward to every day.

when you say, “see you tomorrow,” he deflates at your words. it’s a weird feeling— he feels weird at the thought that he doesn’t like being alone anymore. that he misses you in the way he misses his phone. he feels bored without you there, and a part of him feels so empty when he doesn’t have you beside him.

when he drops you off at home that day, he realizes it feels strange to be alone again— “can you stay with me?”— he needs to be with you.

it takes michael kaiser 7 months.

kaiser lets his ego get in the way of his relationships. he thinks he can have anyone he wants, and that's why he wholeheartedly believes that he's above the idea of yearning for someone. the idea of wanting someone so much that his thoughts would be consumed by them, and only them? it’s unimaginable. he’s used to being admired, worshipped even, by others. he doesn’t need anyone— he doesn’t need you.

so the prick of irritation he feels, when he sees you laughing at another man’s jokes, catches him off-guard.

it shatters his pride, and he tries to ignore the heat that bubbles under his skin. but he can’t ignore the feeling of possessiveness that washes over him at the sight. you’ve always been his— the heated touches, the way you wear his cologne on your skin, the way you linger around him like it’s natural. you're mine, he always thinks to himself, but he never says it out loud. he’s above yearning— but the idea of you being with someone else makes him feel sick. and he’s not about to let another man take you away.

“come with me.” his voice is sharp and demanding, his mere presence filling the space with an unspoken challenge. but before you can speak, kaiser’s gripping your wrist, pulling you into him without another word of explanation. you don’t fight him, you don’t fight the excitement that it brings you. there’s something in his gaze, something so possessive and raw, that makes you follow him wordlessly. you’re mine, the thought echoes in his mind and for the first time in months, he can’t deny the feeling that has been brewing under the surface.

he yearns for you, and he’ll never let anyone strip this feeling away from him.

it takes oliver aiku 4 years and 2 months.

oliver would never deny the fact that he enjoys having you around. but you’re simply his friend— nothing less, and definitely nothing more than that. you’ve been in his life for years now, lingering in his orbit in a way that keeps you both close, but so far. you’re a constant in his life because he doesn’t need to act around you. he never needs to impress you, never needs to win you over with sugary words. you’ve never given him the typical attention he’s used to, the type of attention that he naturally demands. and that bothers him in a way he won’t admit. yet, it’s this disinterest that pulls at him like gravity. it keeps him coming back, keeps him by your side.

but he doesn’t want anything more from you— he doesn’t need it. it’s these words that keeps him from tainting you.

he doesn't like the dangerous and greedy feeling of wanting to have more of you, wanting to see you in ways that no one else has, and that dangerous feeling that makes him want to devote himself to you wholly. and that’s what gets to him. he’s used to being the one in control, the one who dictates the terms.

it's a futile attempt, he realizes. it's always been you who's had the upper hand.

he can no longer deny that he wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. no one else has his heart racing ‘til he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, no one else has him hooked in the way you’ve been stringing him along. and suddenly, all those meaningless flings feel like distractions, like he’s been wasting time when what he really wants is right in front of him.

it’s not about lust, not about the chase—he just wants you. and this time, he’s not about to let fear or pride hold him back.

note. desperate and yearning hcs next??? who knows

© rindreamery, 2024

[victorluvsalice]

It’s Spring Thursday in the Chill Valicer Save, and I have another longer update for you! Mostly because this one took a couple of play sessions to get through, what with me hopping into Build/Buy Mode a couple of times to make improvements to the Valicer Farm and the Van Liddelton Groceries store. Let’s start with what was going on with the home lot first --

I. While I still haven’t figure out precisely what I want to do with the extra space in Victor’s greenhouse yet, I did at least find some cute decor to add to the “crafting wall” thanks to the old Cottage Garden Fan Stuff pack! :) Victor now has a pretty little potting bench, with pots and seeds, a book for research, and a plant being prepped for repotting. It’s just a little thing to make the greenhouse look more greenhousey. :)

II. I moved the wind farm from behind the barn to the side of the lot by the path! There was plenty of open space there to work with, and arranging all our various ground-based wind turbines freed up the space behind the barn for other stuff. Plus it actually allowed me to add one more wind turbine to the lot, which should hopefully help more with power production. The water collectors got moved too, to the other side of the path up against the house -- it felt like a logical place for them. Plus it’ll make it easier to maintain all this stuff -- yes, the gang all have various teleports, but it’s nicer when you don’t have to go all the way to the back of the lot, right?

III. I actually moved the entire barn up a couple of tiles and created a new cow paddock! Yes, now that they have a grocery store, I figured they should try again to get some large livestock, and I figured a cow would be the smartest option so they could offer eggs AND milk. And the best place to put the little shed, and thus the paddock, seemed to be the back of the barn, so -- yeah! I threw in a few fun decorations just to liven the place up (like a Patchy, and a Cottage Garden Fan Pack water fountain that looked a bit like a watering trough), and moved the chicken coop’s enclosure over to intersect with it (so the chickens can visit the cow if they so desire). Took a little fiddling to get just right, but I’m pretty happy with the results! Now they just need the actual cow. . .

IV. And in general yard clean-up, I moved the tree that was previously sitting in the middle of the back boarder of the lot over by the new back porch to help fill in some of that empty space, did a little terrain painting and rearranged the rocks on the path a bit, and put some nice flower bushes along the sides of the path to the front porch. Just a few things to give the yard more interest and cover up some weird blank spots!

V. Oh, and this doesn’t have anything to do with me fiddling in Build/Buy, but you’ll notice that the insect terrariums look a lot different -- that’s because I downloaded some of @brazenlotus‘s mods, and the Core Mod actually changes their look. Had to make sure that it didn’t conflict with All Bugged Out by Lot51, but I do kinda like the jar style!

Whew! Lot to do, but I’m pretty happy with the results. :) Shame they really only have one strip of open backyard left, but eh -- sacrifices must be made! And as for actual GAMEPLAY. . .

-->Alice got up early and, after an adorable interaction with Shadow (seriously, look at that, how cute), transformed into her werewolf form to go out on a hunt! Always a good way to get both a meal and some nice werewolf XP, I’ve found. :) And I made sure to take a quick dip into CAS first and make sure she had her tail on ALL of her werewolf “outfits” so it didn’t randomly disappear on me. XD

-->Smiler, meanwhile, took advantage of a burst of power to play a little Sims Forever (as chaotic as the original), before getting a notice that one of the hatchable eggs in the coop was ready! (Well, okay, SHADOW got the notice, but as the DOG can’t help hatch any eggs. . .) So they flew down and hatched the latest chick -- another rooster! Which, uh, means that we won’t be keeping this one, as we don’t really need a third one. I PROBABLY won’t trade it for meat? Maybe? We’ll see. :p

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Caught In the Act✨

Pre-outbreak! Joel Miller x Roommate! fem reader

A/N: Thank you to @littlevenicebitch69 for showing me that video that sparked the inspiration for this fic 😘 No beta, but I had so much fun writing this one!

Summary: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Vibrator use, porn with plot, yearning, feelings, infatuation, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, dirty talk, roommates

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The sunlight trickles against the sheer curtains as the room swelters with heat. The buzzing sounds fill the bedroom as your hips rock against the silk sheets, your fingers curling with every meticulous circle the vibrator makes against your swollen clit. 

   “Joel,” you moan freely, knowing he isn’t home, not at this hour of the day. It’s just you and your breathy whispers of his name, pretending the vibrator is his thick fingers stifling an orgasm from your needy clit, pretending the dampening sheets are his greying tousled curls as you tug and pull, pretending his large tongue is consuming you entirely as another moan slips from your lips.

   You shouldn’t be thinking about the man you’re renting a room from like this, shouldn’t be moaning his name while your vibrator is pressed firmly against your bundle of nerves, but you just can’t help yourself. He’s just so hot the way his veiny hands open whiskey bottles as his strong muscles clench tight around his button-up flannels he always looks so damn good in. And he’s so fucking sexy the way he smirks while his Southern drawl falls from his plush lips every single time he talks to you with those big brown eyes that you just want to sink into. You can’t help but want him all the time, even though you really shouldn’t.

   “Ohhh, fuck,” you whine as you hit that spot, right where it feels like you’re about to shed your orgasm at any second. So you speed up your motions, pressing down harder as you moan his name again, letting it fall off your lips like he’s here with you now, like he’s taking you exactly how you like it. 

   You’re breathing so hard and focusing on your ragged breaths and the sounds of the whirring vibrator that you don’t even hear the door being jarred open or see the brooding man that stands against your bedroom door. You don’t notice until you hear that thick, undeniable voice that only belongs to one man. That man being Joel fucking Miller.

   “Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Moanin’ my name and I ain’t even touchin’ you? Must want it bad,” he chuckles, a large smirk pressed on his mouth as he leans with crossed arms against your painted door frame.

   You jump from the sudden intrusion and shut the vibrator off, panting and sweating from your almost orgasm as you work to throw the covers over your naked body. “Jesus, Joel! I didn’t know you were home. I'm sorry… I.” Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to see you like this! 

   He stops you mid sentence, holding up his large palm as he clears his throat. “Ain’t gotta apologize, sweetheart. Why don’t you just carry on? Besides, I could hear you moanin’ my name the moment I stepped in the house. Not gonna lie, it kinda turned me on. And then walkin’ in and seein’ this? Well, jus’ pull those covers back and let me see that pretty glistenin’ pussy. You want a little assistance there?” he nods, eyes darkening into black pits as you see the outline of his hard cock beneath his worn jeans. 

   You swallow and choke on your own spit, eyes widening as you slowly reveal your slick center to him once again as you spread your legs wide. “There ya go, sweetheart. Look at how fuckin’ wet you are. Goddamn,” he groans as he rakes a large hand slowly over his greying scruff. “Go on, be a good girl and turn the vibrator back on for me,” he replies in a raspy tone that sets your core on fire.

   You slowly press the button, letting the vibrations slow your pounding heart rate as you stare up at the man you’ve been dreaming about from the moment you stepped foot into this house. “You want me to…”

   He nods, dropping his jaw open as he takes in just how wet you already are for him. “Yeah, put it back on that pretty clit, sweetheart. Wanna see.”

   Your mouth parts open the moment you place it on your throbbing mound, your mouth dropping open as you gaze up into pitch black eyes that want to consume you whole. You hold in a moan, spreading your legs wider as the vibrator circles against your puffy clit, but what feels even better is Joel standing there drinking down the image of you getting yourself off while he watches. 

   “Goddamn, darlin’. Look at you,” he whistles, untucking his flannel shirt from his jeans as he stalks over to the edge of the bed, kicking his boots off as his body weight makes the bed cave as he crawls on top of the sheets.

   “Joel,” you whine, watching his big black eyes come closer as he props himself up beside you, one hand coming down on top of yours while the other tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

   “Let me jus’ give you a hand there, sweetheart. Let me take control,” he growls, grabbing onto the end of the vibrator as he presses it further into your folds, circling slow, meticulous circles as he draws a breathy moan from you. 

   “That’s it, Attagirl,” he praises as your back arches off the bed, taking the vibrator a level up as he grinds it against your slick folds.

   “Ooooh, fuck,” you whine, twisting your fingers into the soft material of his flannel while his gorgeous face hangs just over yours, his big eyes making another wave of slick slip from your center.

   “Feels good, don’t it? Yeah, right there,” he purrs as he pushes it down close to your dripping hole, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs start to shake.

   “Yes, Joel. Please, don’t stop,” you beg as you grip his forearm with a tight fist.

   “I’m not gonna stop till that pretty pussy’s soakin’ my hand, sweetheart,” he smirks, turning the vibrations up even higher as your body hums with electricity from his touch. “If I would’ve known sooner that you’ve been wantin’ this, I would’ve already been on my knees with my mouth between your thighs,” he groans as another moan comes crashing through the room.

   You start to feel the coils snap in your belly, and then hot heat starts to slide down your spine as your orgasm starts to break. “Joel, I’m not gonna - fuck, I’m coming!” you scream as you let the floodgates open and latch on to his veiny wrist.

   “Jesus Chris, you’re fuckin’ soakin’ me,” he says in awe as slick sprays from your pussy, coating his hand in your release as your back arches off the mattress and your body hums with your intense orgasm. Joel works you through it, calling you a good girl as he shuts the vibrator off and just slowly circles it over your aching center until you’re coherent enough to open your eyes and breathe normally again.

   He throws the vibrator to the side and slides a calloused hand carefully from your neckline, in between your breasts, skating down your abdomen, and ending right above your mound. He smiles down at you as he takes his time to ghost his fingers over your soaked folds, stifling a whimper from your lips as he hovers over your puffy clit. 

   “You look so pretty comin’ undone, darlin’. Wanna see it again, this time wanna really feel it.” He presses the pad of his thumb down on your bundle of nerves, drawing meticulous circles, making you cant your hips up as you soak in the way his fingers feel like pure magic. 

   “Oh god, please,” you beg, throwing your head back as he slips a finger inside your dripping hole. 

   “I got you, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel real good now, jus’ hold tight.” Before you know what’s coming, he crashes his lips down on yours and swallows a moan as he curls another finger inside, stretching your walls as he reaches that soft spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

   You lean into the kiss, breathing in his woodsy scent, tasting the sweat of the Austin sun on his lips, feeling the way he slips his tongue inside your mouth and swallows every sound you make while he repeatedly fucks his fingers deep inside your pussy, making you feel like you’re floating on thin air. 

   You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your fingers through his dark tousled curls as a groan leaves his lips and enters your mouth while he repeatedly takes the breath from your lips. He licks inside you while his thick fingers make wet, obscene sounds as he fucks deeper, uncoiling that same tension he already snapped just minutes ago as he repeats the process all over again.

   He unhooks from your lips, finds a steady rhythm as he slips from your hole and full on rocks his fingers up and down your folds, brushing the heel of his wrist over your puffy clit that screams for him to take you over the edge again. 

   The room is suddenly too hot with his weight on your chest, his expert fingers moving at an impossibly fast pace as your core burns hot and bright, begging for him to make you come again.

   “Jesus, fuck - I’m right there. God, it feels so fucking good, Joel,” you stifle as your jaw slackens and your body starts to vibrate the more his fingers work and work at your core. 

   He slips two fingers back inside you, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars, and then he’s whispering filthy words against your parted lips. “Such a good fuckin’ girl lettin’ me use these fingers on that pretty pussy, wonder what you’d feel like takin’ my cock next,” he smirks as he nips at your bottom lip, pulling another moan from your throat. 

   “Please, Joel,” you beg.

   “Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” he chuckles, raising a thick eyebrow as he looks you deep in the eyes with those beautiful brown eyes that are blown wide.

   “Yes, want your cock, Joel. Want you to - oh, fill me up - fuck,” you whine as you feel your release start to flow down your insides. 

   “Yeah, fuckin’ spill for me, that’s it. Atta fuckin’ girl,” he growls as he presses deep inside that spongy spot, and then you’re completely done for. The slick pools down your core, covering Joel’s knuckles and the inside of your thighs as the orgasm takes a hold and knocks your head back against the cotton pillow.

   “That’s it. So pretty, baby,” he coos as he works you through it once again. 

   The fog fills your brain as every euphoric feeling takes its hold on you, holding you down against the damp sheets as you focus on the man that hangs above you. When you finally come to your senses, Joel uncurls his fingers from your core and pops the digits into his mouth, sucking and groaning as he indulges in your sweet taste. 

   “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you taste better than a shot of whiskey,” he groans as he delves his fingers back inside you, collecting slick on the tips of his calloused fingers and brings it up to your lips. “Open up, sweetheart. Try a taste,” he purrs.

   You part your lips and allow him to enter. You take his two fingers and suck, glancing at him with glazed over eyes as your sweet taste slides down the back of your throat. 

   “Goddamn. That’s picture worthy, sweetheart. You suckin’ on my fingers while you lick off your own slick? Jesus Christ, you’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me,” he murmurs as he looks at you with wide, blown out eyes.

   You giggle as you tip your head up, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his flannel as you tug, pulling just enough to expose a trail of dark chest hair that’s saturated in sweat. “Just like you’ll ruin me. But I’m okay with that. Just need you right now,” you pant out, popping open more of the buttons of his flannel until he gets the hint and throws it off, exposing his broad, muscular chest that’s beaded in glistening sweat, and his happy trail disappears under the material of his dark jeans.

   “You want me inside you, sweetheart?” he whispers as you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and start popping open the top button. 

   “Yes, want your cock inside me. Please, I need you,” you beg as he smiles down at you with glossy brown eyes.

   “Need me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you nice ‘n deep?” he smirks as he unzips his jeans and slides them off his legs, his boxers following swiftly after.

   You gulp as his massive cock springs up against his soft tummy, taking in just how big he is as precum spills from the slit. You gawk at him when he wraps a hand around his large length and starts spreading the precum up and down his shaft meticulously. 

   “Mhm,” is all you can get out as you watch him stroke himself up and down. Fuck. 

   “Spread those legs then, sweetheart,” he smirks as he positions himself right between your legs. You can only whine and knead your breasts together as he takes the tip and slides it along your folds, collecting slick on his swollen tip that’s red and throbbing just for you. He rubs it along your overstimulated clit and chuckles when you pant his name out. 

   “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he drawls as he positions himself at the entrance of your sopping wet hole. “Such a messy girl, too. All this for me? Goddamn. Gonna fill you up real good.” Before you have time to say anything, he thrusts inside you, filling you so full as you gasp at the wide stretch he makes.

   “Jesus Christ, you’re tight, darlin’. Jus’ needed this big cock to stretch you out, s’that right?” he groans, caging you in with his muscular arms as he ruts deeper inside you, filling you to the brim with every languid stroke of his massive cock.

   You throw your head back, clawing your nails down his broad back as you moan nonsense while he generously slides his thick length back and forth, slipping out just enough to ram back inside you with a sting to your insides as his tip continually kisses the back of your cervix. 

   It’s like you can’t get enough, need more of him, need every inch of his skin to crawl into yours as he takes you to the edge again. You’ve never felt a stretch like this, never been so cock hungover, not until Joel fucking Miller slipped inside you, and you’re afraid you won’t ever get enough of him now. 

   “More,” you beg, panting from every motion of the snap of his hips, moaning every time he’s deep inside your clenched walls, splitting them open with every single rutting motion he gives.

   “You want more, sweetheart? I’ll give you more. Yeah, give you jus’ what you want,” he smirks as he bends your knees up, folding you into a pancake shape as he crawls over you with his beautiful, broad body. “Careful what you ask for. Might not be able to take it,” he chuckles, eyes darkening with trouble written all over them. 

   He spears inside you, thrusting so deep that you swear you feel him inside your stomach, hitting that spongy spot that makes you gasp as your back arches off the damp sheets. “Fuckkkk,” you moan, your voice carrying through the entire room as his deep grunts collide with yours.

   “Yeah, s’right. Take it,” he growls, nipping at your collarbone as your fingers fist in his tousled curls. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he demands as his hips thrust violently against yours.

   You have no more control. The room is heavy and hot as your musk and sweat collect over the other, your fingers dragging down his back as you clench up and let your sweet release slip out, coating him in your slick. “Joel, feels - fuck, I’m coming,” you moan into the shell of his ear.

   He stills his thrusts for a few seconds, feeling your walls clench around his cock as you start to soak him, the flow not stopping even as you tilt your head back and scream from the blistering heat that settles in your core.

   “Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl. Squeezin’ so tight, milkin’ me with that slippery cum, Jesus Christ,” he moans as he thrusts back into you, not wasting a moments time as he chases his own release.

   You settle into a fog, his deep pants and groans reverberating off the walls as his heavy hands settle on your hips, fucking into you so deep that you feel drunk and so full of him that you swear you should be satiated, but you’re not. You’d let him pump you full of his cock all night in every different position, if only you could continue to do this night after night.

   “‘M not gonna last, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” He grinds his teeth together in concentration as he tries to hold it in just a little longer.

   “Inside me. Fill me up, handsome,” you purr.

   His jaw ticks, and something like fire lights in his glossy eyes, and a devilish smirk forms on his plush lips as he thrusts once, twice, three more times and then pounds you as hard as he can. He leans his forehead against yours and lets out a guttural groan, feeling the white ropes of cum paint the back of your cervix as he gushes all inside you.

   “Fuck me,” he moans, not willing to move till he has all of him spilled inside your walls. He slowly pulls out of you, and you feel the warmth of your own slick and his release mix together as it gushes outside your pussy and down your thighs.

   “Look at you, such a pretty little mess you are, ain’t ya,” he smiles, staring at your legs splayed wide as he dips a finger down against folds, collecting the mixed cum together on his index finger. “Open up, pretty girl,” he smirks.

   He takes his index finger and slots it between your glossy lips, letting you lick and suck on his finger. You swear his eyes widen even further as his black pupils expand into pure lust. “So good,” you moan, wrapping your lips around his finger as you tease and suck on his slick covered digit.

   “Goddamn, look at you. You’re jus’ a wicked little tease, ain’t ya?” he groans, dragging the finger from your lips and pulling it into his warm mouth, sucking with a deliciously hungry groan that makes your eyes widen with heat. “Delicious,” he smirks as he pops his own digit from his mouth, grinding out another moan from your throat as he topples on the bed beside you.

   You both breathe raggedly as you look from one to the other, both locked in a heated staring match, his fingertips lingering on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to his glistening chest. “That was…” 

   “Unexpected, but amazin’ all the same,” he finishes with a smile curled around his mouth. “You’re tellin’ me you’ve been livin’ in this house for moments, and you weren’t plannin’ on tellin’ me you thought ‘bout me in bed?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at you square in the eyes, a sly smirk crossing his mouth.

   “I didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out,” you say with your lips molded together in a tight gesture. 

   “Kicked out, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his tousled curls. “Sweetheart, I found you in your bed moanin’ my name. Hell, you could’ve told me that first day you walked in. Think I would’ve taken you right there on the counter if I knew you were into me,” he chuckles.

   “Get out of here,” you laugh as you playfully push him in the chest. “You would not have.”

   “Oh yes I would. Thought you were a knockout from the minute you came through the front door with those little daisy dukes and those beautiful eyes. Shit, I’ve had a thing for you since day one, sweetheart.”

   You purse your lips and give him a once over, assessing his genuine brown eyes that seem covered in softness. Holy shit. He’s being serious. “Really?” you ask breathlessly.

   “Really,” he nods, curling his fingers through your hair and pulling you forward, till your mouth collides with his in a long, sensuous kiss that sends music running through your ears. His lips feel like velvet, and his tongue tastes like cinnamon. 

   When you fall away from his lips, he smiles. “We gonna make this a habit?”

   “Do you want to make this a habit?” you ask with a raised brow, hope stirring in your chest.

   “I mean, ‘course I do, darlin’. A pretty thing like you should be fucked well and taken on nice dates. Think we got the fuckin’ part down, jus’ gotta take ya to dinner now.” He winks and flashes his honey-glazed eyes, and you feel as if you could drown in those syrupy eyes. 

   “That what you tell all the girls who turn into your roommate?” you giggle.

   “Now, sweetheart. You’re rentin’ a room from me. If you wanna be roommates, then technically you’d need to stay in my room, in my bed, in my arms,” he smiles as he pulls you flush to his broad chest, draping an arm around the back of your hip as his fingers softly tease at your soft skin.

   You hum into his touch, giving him a dreamy smile as you drag your nails against his silver scruff. “Roommates, huh? Is that what we’re gonna be?”

   “Roommates, fuck buddies, lovers… s’hard to say, darlin’. But I like you, and I’d like to explore whatever this is.” His tone is so sincere that it makes butterflies flit through your stomach at the possibilities of what this could turn out to be. 

   You push your fingers through his messy curls, reveling over his deep groans as you drag your nails down his scalp. “I like you too, Joel. A lot, actually,” you blush.

   “Figured as much when I caught you moanin’ my name while usin’ that little vibrator on your pretty pink pussy,” he winks, making you blush at the way he drags out the words and keeps his brown eyes locked tight on yours. 

   You shake your head and groan when he drags his thick thumb over your lower lip. “Bet I’m not the only one. What have you been thinking about at night, in the shower, in your bed?” you smirk, making his cheeks redden at the mention of it.

   “Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. You know I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too. Been wonderin’ how sweet you were. Turns out you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever put my lips on.” He curls his lips into a delicious smile and flips you over to where your back is flush with his sweat-covered chest, lacing his calloused fingers with yours as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his scruff scratching softly along your jawline. 

   You lay there in the twisted sheets, inhaling the musk that makes up Joel Miller, embedding his woodsy pine scent deep into your memory. This feels… right, like this is where you’ve always belonged, in his arms.

   “How’s ’bout I take you on a date Friday night? We could go see a movie, I’ll buy you a big thing of popcorn, hold your hand, maybe pull you into my lap so I can kiss you all I want, then I’ll take you back home and make love to you in my bed all night long.” He places a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the feel of him. 

   You squeeze his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, giving him a lazy smile as you turn to look back at him over your shoulder. “Okay, cowboy. You’ve got a deal.”

   He brushes his lips over yours and pulls you close so he can trace his lips over the shell of your ear. “Alright, pretty girl. It’s a date. Now, how ‘bout we go take a shower, and I can make you some dinner. Maybe go for round two after with my mouth between those pretty thighs of yours,” he whispers as a chill runs down your spine, heat building back in your core.

   You huff out a laugh and stifle a groan. “Mmmm, alright then, cowboy. I’m all in.”

   He presses his lips against yours and then tugs you up from the bed, lacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to his room. “Gonna take you for the ride of your life, sweetheart,” he smirks.

   “I’m counting on it,” you smile. 

   And so it begins.

[an-excellent-choice]

I just realized another sign on how much being a god changed Gale so much is that won't actively help his followers. He chooses to inspire but not help.

This is so jarring and the complete opposite of how he was before. He always, i mean always offers to help. His greetings always starts on how he can help even when he disapproves of you.

Like look at these greetings, he was fundamentally a caring and helpful person.

Negative (-10): 

"Yes?"

"Did you need something?"

"What is it?"

"You need me?"

Neutral and up (above -10):

"How can I help?"

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

"What's on your mind?"

Flirting:

"Always a delight to speak with you. What can I do?"

"I do enjoy our conversations. What do you need?"

"Tell me - What can I do for you?"

Partnered:

"My time is yours. What do you need?"

"Whatever you need, you have only to ask."

"Anything I can do for you - consider it most enthusiastically done."

This man's core and passion has always been to help and centered in acts of service. From cooking for the camp, teaching magic, even offering blood to Astarion. All of these love and care he has disappears when he becomes a god.

Elminster was right. The Gale we all knew and loved is now lost the moment he ascended.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 03 - Ice Play

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda surprises you with ice, working you up until you can't take it anymore. And then... she keeps going.

content warnings: fingering, cunnilingus, blindfold, restraints, overstimulation

word count: 1.5k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The sound of glass clinking jars you, your ears listening for Wanda’s footsteps as she walks towards the bed. You’re currently tied to the four posts, spread eagle style. The blindfold had been Wanda’s idea, and you could feel the anticipation mixing with a heavy dose of arousal. 

The bed dips, and you feel warmth from Wanda’s body radiating near your hips. The calming scent of warm vanilla reaches you, and you feel your head spin as you inhale deeply. 

“Wanda?” 

“Mhmm, I’m right here baby. Relax, okay?” Wanda’s voice is low, and you feel your body listening to her command. The sound of her voice sends shivers down your spine, and goosebumps trail up your arms as you hear the glass-clinking sound again. 

“I want to see how worked up you get from this,” Wanda murmurs, almost too quiet for you to hear. It's as if she’s speaking to herself, a soft reminder of what she’s planned for tonight. 

Squirming, you inch your body closer to Wanda, or, as far as your restraints will allow. She chuckles, scooting further onto the bed until her hip meets your waist, the warmth against you grounding you. 

You sigh, letting yourself relax slightly as you sense her moving slightly. Her hips aren’t budging, so you assume she’s doing something with her hands. Fuck, the anticipation is absolutely delicious. 

Without warning, you feel something cold near your neck. You gasp, hearing Wanda’s low chuckle as she drags something cold and hard up your throat, circling it around the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

Something drips down the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. It feels like water droplets, and you quickly put two and two together and call out to Wanda. 

“Are you… Wanda, is that ice?”

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging the cube down your neck again and over your collarbones. “Such a smart submissive I have.” 

You can feel your body heating up at the praise, the cold trail of water from your neck sending an ache straight to your core. Wanda’s hand moves lower, and you feel your nipples straining as they harden, the ice moving closer until they’re rock hard. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, gasping slightly as Wanda circles your right nipple with the ice cube. You want to beg her to move quicker, to keep working your body up, but you know that would only make her slow down and really take her time with you. 

As if she was reading your mind, Wanda suddenly moved the ice cube without warning, placing it directly over your nipple as you let out an involuntary moan and arched your back. Your chest thrusts up against the sensation, both pain and pleasure coursing through your body from the coldness. 

All too quickly, Wanda removed the ice cube. You were about to protest, before you felt her hot, strong tongue against your nipple. The suddenness of the temperature change made your head spin, and you whimpered when her cold fingers moved to your left nipple to twist it as you breathed heavily. 

Twisting her tongue, Wanda applied a slight suction with her lips, and you nearly cried from the aching pleasure building inside you. 

“Oh, please. I- god I need you. Please, Wanda,” you begged, not really knowing what you were asking for. 

She didn’t seem to mind, and you felt her lips smile from where they were wrapped around your nipple, before she gently bit down. 

Yelping, you felt a wave of wetness leak from you. God, it was all becoming too much, too quickly. You felt desperate, your hands training against their restraints as you rutted your hips up in search of any friction. 

“Calm down, baby. I’ve only just started,” Wanda’s voice sounded out, and you felt her lips and fingers disappear. 

You were about to protest, when you heard glass clinking again. You prepared yourself, feeling your nipples aching slightly from both the stimulation of Wanda’s fingers and the pleasant burn from the ice cube. 

This time, Wanda didn’t drag the ice over your body, she placed it directly over your right nipple. You had barely enough time to process before her lips were on yours and her ice-cold tongue was pushing its way inside your mouth. 

You moaned, your tongue responding to hers and freezing slightly. Was that? 

Holy fuck, Wanda had an ice cube in her mouth as she was kissing you. She let it slide over her tongue and onto yours, the coldness of it startling you slightly. Moving her tongue against yours, she kissed you soundly until the ice cube had melted. 

Her fingers smeared the remainder of the ice and melted water over your right breast, your nipple feeling as though it was on fire as waves of pleasure coursed through you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, darling,” Wanda praised, kissing you one last time before her body warmth disappeared completely. 

Taking in a shaky breath, you strained your ears for any sign of her. The heat between your legs was becoming unbearable, and you could feel your own wetness as it gathered. 

Cold fingers trailed over your hips, an ice cube dragging along your skin, and you felt your heart rate spike as you realized what Wanda was about to do. 

“No, wait. Please, I can’t take it. Don’t use an ice cube down there, it'll make me cum, the sensation will be too much,” you pleaded, and Wanda’s fingers slowed their path, the ice cube melting in the dip between your hips and stomach. 

“What’s your color, sweetheart?” 

You threw your head back, preparing yourself. “Green.”

“Good. Now stop complaining and let me have fun.” Wanda’s accent crept into her syllables, and you whispered out a confirmation that you heard her. 

The ice cube continued its path, until it rested just above your clit.

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

You let out a moan. God, you loved it when she made you admit that you wanted something, even though you protested against it. 

“Fuck. Um… please. I want you to work me up with your ice cube and your talented fingers until the sensations make me cum. And then I want you to do whatever you want, as long as you keep that ice cube on my most sensitive parts as my brain turns into mush and you watch me fall apart beneath you,” you didn’t care how desperate it sounded, and you were rewarded with Wanda’s lips gently kissing your cheek. 

“Good, that’s much better.” 

The ice cube moved quickly, pressing directly over your protruding clit as you let out a high-pitched moan. Wanda’s fingers moved rapidly circling the ice cube over your clit as your orgasm built, your body protesting against the painful stimulation even as pleasure raced through your veins. 

It didn’t take long for you to cum, your arousal smearing over Wanda’s fingers as she fetched another ice cube and fingered it inside you. She didn’t stop, bringing you to another orgasm as she popped the last ice cube in your mouth and wrapped her tongue around your nipples. 

You could feel the water from the ice cube inside you melting around her fingers as she fucked you roughly, the burning coldness against your tongue contrasting perfectly with the heat thrumming through your body. 

It didn’t take long until another orgasm came over you, your body shaking from both the cold and the overstimulating pleasure. 

“One last ice cube baby, then we can be done,” Wanda whispered, before placing the ice cube on your stomach. It started to melt slightly, settling into the divot where your belly button was. 

“If the ice cube moves off your stomach, I’m going to refill another glass and keep this up,” Wanda said, her tone low.  

You nodded, focusing on staying very still as you felt Wanda’s cold tongue tracing through your folds and swirling around your clit. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and you fought against your orgasm as she built you up. You knew that the ice cube would move if you came, since you couldn’t control your body while orgasming. 

Wanda didn’t care, her fingers slipping inside you and curling perfectly as your breaths shortened and your back started to arch. 

“Oh, please. Wait, don’t…”

You didn’t get to finish, your body convulsing with pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. The ice cube, almost fully melted, slid down your side and rested beneath your body as you felt Wanda’s fingers and tongue coaxing the last tendrils of pleasure from you. 

“That’s a shame, love. I’ll be right back, take a few minutes to recover,” Wanda said, kissing your clit and causing your hips to jerk. 

You heard her low laughter as she walked towards the door, the sound of ice filling a cup making your clit throb in protest. 

The sound of footsteps made your pulse quicken, and you turned your head towards the door as you heard Wanda set the glass down on the nightstand. 

“Just remember, you asked for this,” Wanda murmured, kissing you gently. She pulled your blindfold off, her smile wide and pupils blown as she held up an ice cube between her fingers. 

You don’t really remember the rest of that night, but the echoes of burning cold pleasure remained for days afterward. Maybe you should tie Wanda down next time and see if she liked it.

[beneathashadytree]

DEVOUT WORSHIPPER - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : suggestive at most (but not explicit), reader has lipstick applied but still gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Just for context, Sylus and the reader are living together but often go periods without seeing each other due to work🙏🏽 Also, let me know what you think of Sylus being portrayed as Italian/speaking Italian here! Hope you guys enjoy this after the gorgeous new update🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“You’re exquisite.”

Sylus’ soft mumble was not left unheard. In fact, it was impossible to not notice anything about him when he was this close; so close that they could see every blemish on his fair skin, and count every delicate eyelash that fluttered lazily with every slow, seductive blink of his eyes.

They’d never get enough of his eyes, would they?

Eyes the colors of the richest blood rubies; that bled passion and want so true it warmed them to their very core. Maybe they’d never admit that their flushed cheeks weren’t just because of his enamored compliments, but also as a natural reaction to looking into those eyes they could never resist.

“That so?” they hummed, voice smaller than they thought it would come out. Somehow, there was a sanctity to this moment that meant that only hushed whispers were to be spoken between them, even if they were all alone in the safety of their own home.

Sylus huffed out a laugh that was achingly tender, all parts adoration and worship—and yet there was that same arrogance in his eyes that spoke volumes of his sheer confidence in his words. No one believed what he said more than he did. “Mm. You’ll have to take my word, tesoro.”

How sweet it was to hear from him, the endearment lilting and the syllables curling almost intimately on his tongue. Even sweeter it was, when his finger reached out to smudge at the edges of blood-red lips like his own eyes, his touch almost reverent.

“Silver tongue,” they breathed out, their gaze dropping to his sinful lips, their corners raised in an affectionate half-smile he’d only ever bare to them. Just them. It was their sacred secret to stow away between their ribs. “You’re just trying to lure me into staying at home with you.”

“I can’t say that it would be a bad idea.” The faux innocence on his face as his eyes flickered to their parted lips was almost laughable. “The place would miss you, after all.”

No matter how much they tried to play coy, Sylus could always outfox them in that game of wits—but his desires were always spelled out on his face, and this time they threatened to consume them whole.

Arching their brow at him, they reached out to clasp their hand around his wrist, tugging it away from their lips and instead taking their sweet, sweet time to interlace their fingers in an old, almost-sensuous dance that they’d mastered together, completely in step with each other. “Just the place?” they asked, a challenge hidden between every word and the next.

Something dark oozed through his eyes; a flame sparking to life behind his false composed mask. It made them feel a little smug, knowing that he’d never be able to douse that fire; that he’d always want them so terribly.

“You love making things difficult, don’t you, sweetie?” His voice was a little more gruff now, a sharpness there that reminded them that he was at his wits’ end, and that his nerves were fraying every time he was in their presence—in only the best, most delicious ways possible. “No. Not just the place.” Thumb brushing against the back of their hand, he leaned in to whisper in their ear. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I can’t think of anything else that could convince me to stay,” they began to say as they toyed with the chain on his collar, “After all—”

Sylus pulled them onto his lap as he collapsed onto the bed, without even waiting for them to finish that sentence. It seemed that they’d worn out what little patience he’d had left, and he was too far gone in his amorous haze to comprehend a single word more.

“Mi dispiace,” he managed to say, though his chest heaved with the effort of restraint, and his irises were almost completely black as he stroked the small of their back with a practiced hand that had memorized every curve and expanse of skin. “I’ll come up with a better bargain next time. Now, I’m a little preoccupied with you.”

Well. Dinner could wait, they suppose.

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[quimichi]

❛ CUDDLING SOME GENSHIN BOYS ༉‧₊˚

Genshin boy's x Creator!Reader

Tighnari, Aether, Albedo, Venti & Zhongli

Tighnari

His muscles flex instinctively as you wrap your arms around him. It's so sudden and yet so perfect. His heart flutters, overwhelmed by everything this moment contains.

Youre pressed against his body, your soft lips grazing his neck as you whisper sweet nothings to each other. His pulse throbs, hot against your cheek, and he cannot help but hold you as close as he possibly can. He does not want you to leave. He craves only your touch. "So comfy..." you whisper into his neck.The warmth of your words leaves Tighnari dizzy. It feels like the first time he has heard such sweet words from your lips, and yet it is familiar. It is a kind of love he has always dreamt of sharing with you, and it is everything he has ever fantasized.

"Do you enjoy it?" his voice is whisper-soft, so low he can barely even say it himself. He cannot dare to speak any further, but his breathing is rapid as he clings to you. "A lot..."

Your admission causes his heart to swell and his ears twitch in enjoyment. The joy he feels washes over him like a wave, the pure, unadultered happiness one feels when all the stars align. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

"I'm glad"

Aether

Aether immediately leans further into you, pressing himself into your touch. He lets out a hum of happiness as he relaxes further into you, making himself comfortable and safe in your presence. He breathes in your scent and his smile grows. After a quiet moment, the traveler glances up at you, his head burried in your chest, and tilts his head, seemingly curious. "You seem to be enjoying yourself" you giggle as you gently stroke his hair. "Mmm..." Aether murmurs, nodding a little in response. "It's hard not to when I'm in your embrace." Aethers expression softens even more as he leans his head into your hand—his body seems magnetically drawn to yours, his whole life lived in pursuit of your touch.

He relaxes almost immediately. The travelers expression becomes a content smile, as if the world has finally returned to normal.

Thank you, his eyes say to you; only you.

Albedo

His heart skips a beat as you snuggle up to him, and he glances down at you with a slightly stunned expression.

Your physical affection isn't as formal as the words of praise that he offers, but it warms him to his core. He doesn't think that he has ever felt so happy. Albedo gazes down at you as you doze, his expression filled with affection and love.

His lips curl upwards gently, and he runs a hand through your hair. The soft strands are delicate against his fingertips, and he can't keep himself from kissing your forehead.

You've caught his heart, as if it were a butterfly in a jar. "Love this" you mumble tiredly. He smiles, but he doesn't speak. He holds you close, relishing the sensation of your body beside his. His arms are wrapped around you, and he runs his fingers through your hair again. He traces the contours of your face, as if he wants to memorize you.

"Agreed"

Venti

Venti nestles his head into your chest, contented to breathe in your warmth as he wraps his arms around you tightly. His touch is light and tender, but he does not want to let go. It makes him dizzy with elation, just being this close to you. But letting go? There's no way...Venti hides a smile beneath you, his lips curling into a shy shape. He shifts his body slightly, burrowing his head into your chest and using you as a pillow. Being so close to you allows him to hear your heartbeat... It's one of his most cherished sounds.

"I love being in your embrace," he answers contentedly, "I love your heartbeat— it's music in my ears. There is nowhere in this world that would make me happier than to be within your embrace... I want to be here, this close to you, for as long as we both shall live."

He presses his lips against your skin on your chest. It is a mark of his affection. He does it again and again, smiling as he kisses you.

Zhongli

The feeling of your arms and warmth is as addicting as a drug. When Zhongli finally finds himself in your embrace, he's quick to wrap his arms in kind. Zhongli closes his eyes, content to breathe in the scent of your scent; the scent of your hair. His fingers gently brush your jawline, caressing the smoothness of your skin.

This is enough to make him forget everything. In this moment, nothing matters except for the two of you. "Yours," The word is barely above a whisper, barely audible at all. As he shifts in your arms, his breath catches between his teeth. He presses himself close; close enough that it feels like his chest will crack open.

The touch of your fingertips on his skin has him trembling involuntarily. His eyes close when you gently caress him, as though the touch sets the entire world alight, every nerve in his body tingling.

"Yours," he says again, this time almost pleading. " 'm all yours"

[sl4sh3rsub]

brahms heelshire hcs (nsfw: mdni)

brahms heelshire x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a whole heap. dom/sub dynamics + aspects of the lifestyle (both brahms and reader are switches, reader is a soft dom mostly) AND top/bottom dynamics (both brahms and reader are vers), dubious consent (somnophilia, overstimulation?), use of mommy/daddy/sir towards reader in separate sections, copious mentions of cum + precum (includes cum eating/cum marking/cum jar), fuck malcolm 202x (brahms is territorial), detailed ass stuff: anal, rimming, ass eating (giving and receiving), oral sex (giving), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), domestic behaviour, hygiene practices, hickeys, thigh fucking, cockwarming, sex toys, dry humping

a/n: barely edited. is it mummy or mommy?? average aussie moment. i also have a smut fic in my drafts so hmu in the inbox if you wanna see it, i'm not too sure if there's any demand for it lmao DISCLAIMER: i, personally, have not been in properly established dominant/submissive relationship! i have been in those spaces for a while though and am doing my best to not misrepresent lifestyle aspects or write fics promoting extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics - obviously take this with a grain of salt as this fic is about a slasher and is already not a healthy n wholesome starting point. do your own research and stay safe irl folks

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

there's a very clear dom/sub dynamic in your relationship and brahms is definitely a switch (leaning sub) to the core. sometimes he'll be extremely dominant with you during sex, but he'll always revert back to your sweet boy after he makes an effort to clean you up <3

you take turns fucking each other braindead but after your eyes roll into your head, you always have to get him back by making him drool into the pillows for the next couple of hours

brahms insists on starting a quickie and cumming all over your chest and face right before malcolm is scheduled to arrive. he pushes you towards the door as the bell rings and wants to leave you with his drying spend stained all over your skin, sticking your shirt to you in dark splotches - a territorial, possessive nature is awakened in brahms as he watches from the walls while malcolm flushes and realises what is going on. the best bit is, you're fully well aware of what he's doing after the first time it happens, but you entertain his antics for a little while longer to ensure the poor delivery boy gets the message to back off

he also has a small, little, teensy weensy habit of cum marking all of your underwear, pillowcases and even goes as far as making you special little jam sandwiches with a little... salty layer, especially for you

push your thumb against his hole and go to town on his ass and eat him out - put a pillow under his hips and do him a favour by stuffing your underwear in his mouth so he won't lose his voice as he's screaming from pleasure, of course. he'll be so, so obedient for the day after and if you sneak behind him to smack his ass, his knees will buckle slightly and his head whips towards you to meet your mischievous gaze

his sloppy, spit-shined pink hole winks at you after you make out with it, and the sight makes you lose control every single time, especially when he whines. he grinds against your tongue as you fuck him, circling your fingers around the base of his cock to stop him from instantly staining the sheets. his precious cum spurting onto his chest would be a waste and make quite the mess

brahms' knees get weak and he practically melts beneath your touch when you start focusing on his cockhead while sucking him off - slick up your thumb with his sticky precum as you drag it along his slit, lick small circles and drool over it as you blow cool air to see him shiver... genuinely anything to do with his sensitive tip with get him spilling all over your tongue. if he's sitting on the edge of a table or counter while you take his length down your throat, he'll shift one of his thighs over your shoulder and hump into your mouth with shuddering gasps, needing to have your drool coating him completely while his eyes roll back and you hold your breath

brahmsy is obsessed with you caring for him (both sexually and non-sexually), especially with things such as prescribed routines and specific positions for him to follow. of course brahms is reliant on order! he's already accustomed to following the rules and schedules while in the wall, so it's only natural for him to feel safe with you after his previous neglect. he's so obedient and willing for you to make him into your own pliable doll - he's most happy with you guiding him everywhere and often shaving him, practically playing dress up every day. brahms knows that every saturday is when you have your thorough 'inspection' of his body - it's when you decide whether or not to shave his pubes and facial hair in the next week! sometimes he wants to be clean shaven and sometimes he's more than happy to grow out his dark curls, but he secretly adores you methodically shaving around his cock - gently holding it up or to the side to make sure you get everything and your diligent focus solely on his soft shaft makes him flush under your attentive gaze. every single time you adjust your warm grip on his balls to maneuver the blade, his cockhead beads out a tad bit of precum. every single time, without fail. he doesn't even have to be hard for his body to react like that, for his tip to drool with his arousal, but your low chuckles and distracted glances up at his flushed chest make it hard for him to not squirm in your hold :( he was originally the one to suggest the whole shaving thing, as he wasn't the biggest fan of fully cleaning up after cumming everywhere and it tended to dry in his thick bush of curls. after you first tried out hair removal with him, he found it much easier to wipe off his mess and was overall much more convenient.

your clinical precision in keeping your favourite boy upkept each day makes for a soothing routine for you and a chance for brahms to preen and bask in your attention for a solid hour. brahms' favourite part of the daily routine is your softly spoken orders in the morning to tilt his chin back slightly as you run the razor over his jawline and down his neck. the raw vulnerability almost gives him shivers, but good boys never disobey directions to 'stay still' <3

if you manage to wrangle up get brahms into having a prescribed skincare routine, his attentively mumbled recitations of the order for his cleanser, exfoliant and moisturizer drift down the hall while you prepare breakfast for two of you :(

make sure to praise him for washing up properly before you both get intimate! his lifestyle did a 180 after meeting you, so any encouragement to be clean and neat is positive reinforcement for him to stay that way

if brahms feels a little shy or out of it on any given day, he disappears into the walls for some time away - that doesn't mean he won't trail you like a shuffling shadow though, he just might not want to be out in the open for a little. to make him feel loved, kiss the wallpaper of the wall he's behind! the little gasp or squeak of surprise as he undoubtedly turns beet red just a mere inch away from you is a small joy <3

if you feel stressed or wound up, he's fully convinced that some dick will mellow you out just fine! he wants you to be fucked out so your anxious demeanor disappears and you can be happy again - it's for your own good :(

despite how he loves the wholesome nature of your voice going soft while you compliment him, he can't ignore how it makes him swell in his pants. he just loves the warmth in your gaze and the quirk in the edge of your lips as his eyes glaze over

brahms has a cum jar that he keeps in the walls - it has a small lock of your hair set in it from when you slept in the house the first night. if you have to go out early to the local farmer's market or shops, you'll most likely find a small, warm jar hastily and clumsily cleaned on your bedside table - a cooling milky substance makes the glass opaque as a few small dribbles slide down the outer rim. it's from brahmsy, of course. he wants you to always be aware of what your presence and existence does to him

whenever he wants to try and cook for you or you leave your meal out before you eat together, brahms will quickly jack off all over the food. he just wants to make sure you have a bit of his love incorporated in your diet - in case you accidentally swap them, he'll make sure to put it on all the plates available. he doesn't mind at all, he's not picky! although, brahms would much rather eat his cum off of your fingers or out of you, or even from your lips as you make out after you give him head... but whatever has to happen to ensure you have his cum in your tummy, brahmsy will do it

he is a fiend for stealing your clothing, especially your underwear (bonus points if they're not clean) - he wears the dirty garment or simply wraps it around his leaky cock. he begs you to wear the cum-stained underwear while you go out on emergency necessary shopping trips. he just wants to ensure that you have him on your mind the whole time :(

if you refuse, he'll reluctantly compromise with you and make you keep the doll with you to ensure everyone backs off when you're in public. he swears up and down that you'll be so much safer with his 'mini me' attached at your hip

if you need to go into town at any point, make sure to prep brahms a day beforehand with being alright in your absence - have your laundry done ahead of time with your detergent and scent on it to give him and leave written instructions to have a shower using your soap and shampoo to feel safer <3 if you've been doing a project over the past few days, such as painting or long chores together (like repairing a set of chairs or dusting all the room decor), make sure brahms is comfortable with continuing it when you're out - it gives him a distraction and something to do with his hands

puppy dog eyes go both ways in your relationship - he weaponizes it to try and convince you to spend more time skin-to-skin and you use it to make him listen and follow instructions. it also has the added bonus of getting you both riled up

tap twice on your belt buckle or the fly of your pants and his brain will fully turn off. his breath goes whiny and his tongue lolls out at the thought of you using his face for your own selfish needs

brahms is incredibly shy but willing to go against his own timid nature for you. the first time he presented himself to you was something you'll never forget. you had gone to fetch him a glass of water and when you returned to your room, he had confidently stripped naked and was kneeling on the rug, waiting for you with a blush across his chest. you stuttered and diverted your gaze in shock, hurriedly covering your eyes. brahms rose and tutted, shakily tilted your chin towards him and cooing at your bashful reaction. he whispered reassurances in your ear - he wanted you to look at his body, it's yours to do with as you wish. he trusts you wholeheartedly, so command him and he will meet your every need

if brahmsy is being a bit of a brat, tease him for not being on his best behaviour - press soft kisses into his lips but never deepening, purposefully avoiding what he craves most. keep your hand at the base of his throat to gently apply pressure while you slowly draw closer to him, puffs of breath mingling as his whines get more desperate. if brahms lunges to try and smash your lips together, pull back and tighten your grip. watch his eyes roll back with tears pooling from his need

brahms' favourite punishment is being spanked as he's bent over your knee, cock pressed between your thighs. whenever he jolts, he can thrust into you as his pale skin lights up pink and red - both from your hand and his arousal. make sure to smack his balls a little too, he'll cum like a fountain from the stimulation. brahms truly is a sight to behold whenever he is falling apart by your hand

his second favourite punishment is when you fuck yourself on a dildo smaller than his cock. order him into his prescribed kneeling position - palms flat on his thighs, heels propped up under his ass and back straight - to make him watch you bounce up and down on your toy, giving him a show. watch him intently and you'll see rivulets of sweat trail down his chest as his dick bobs and twitches against his stomach at the lack of stimulation, his heated gaze feasting on the sight of your body with rapt attention. the part that makes his chest ache is your slightly needy and unsatisfied expression you try to hide - brahms knows for a fact that the silicone can't fill you the way he can. although he is more than happy with watching you get off mere feet infront of him, the agonizing thrum of his heartbeat in his cock and white crescents dug into his thighs are testament to how this scenario is effecting him. it's different to his voyeuristic endeavors behind the walls - if he had his way, he would've already busted a load onto the drywall and all over his fist at the sight of you

brahms is a massive fan of ruined orgasms - as long as you shush his yelps and whimpers while pressing kisses into his hairline and stroking his thighs, that is. he needs the comfort during and afterwards, but the raw experience altogether gives him an adrenaline rush

he is also a massive fan of cock milking - keep a small crystal bowl under his tip to catch all his milky cum. the visual of the aftermath, combined with the shaking of his thighs, nearly makes his vision black out with pleasure

brahms' movements are clumsy, and his hands shake from nervousness and reverence every time he touches you and he learns over time how to please and obey you perfectly, but he never shakes his little habit of rutting against you whenever you're nearby

the poor guy has years and years of pent-up sexual frustration and yearning - you are the perfect solution to all of his problems, so don't be surprised if he's selfish with his pleasure every so often

if you straddle him while cuddling and put his head to your chest, his brain fully stops working and all of his blood rushes to his cock. however, unlike every other time you're in a sexual position, his constant need to fuck you is delayed temporarily - he's torn between feeling comforted and extremely turned on, resulting in him being rock hard but comfortably lounging while you run your fingers through his hair. kiss him at your own pace, as he has no rush to be buried in your guts - just don't shift on top of him though, he'll snap out of it and remember what position you're both in :<

brahms has a life mission of reminding you that it's play time at all times of the day, attempting to coax you into letting him seek refuge between your thighs, no matter the situation - be it eating your ass from behind while you cook or caging you against the nearest bench while fucking your soft thighs

call him a pervert for watching you behind the walls and he'll turn bright red out of shame. do him a favour and ignore the bulge he fruitlessly tries to cover his huge bulge with trembling hands

he loves to give you head while you wake, your heavy musk is addictive to him. he's definitely not against you returning the favour the next day or fucking yourself on his morning wood after he's been humping you in his sleep. his favourite thing is to blink away his drowsiness while realising he's buried to the hilt in your tight warmth, pinching your nipples and moaning above him. hopefully you have nothing to do that morning, because the moment he cums, he will be immediately knocked out for another hour

brahms makes himself a little leather collar in his workshop - if you go into town and get an engraved pendant for him, he will go feral and not take it off for weeks :(

if he feels a bit worn out after a round or a mind-blowing orgasm, expect to feel his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck - especially when his softening cock still buried deep inside you. he loves to take a little nap in between rounds while you cockwarm him, it's just easier for your heartbeats to match pace :<

while brahms was in the walls, he had a habit of skulking around while other nannies were working - stroking his cock for a couple of minutes before going back to lounging in his bed or returning to shadow his carer, raging boner being unattended for a while before the whole cycle repeated. this results in him wandering around the house - with either his boxers tented or his bottom half nude, for easy access of course. you have to train him into the habit of wearing pants consistently. this little pattern of his also results in him initiating sexual situations with you - such as grinding, making out or dry humping - before disappearing into a wall in the middle of it, only to reappear a short while later to continue the interaction

he treasures anything you buy for him! what do you mean you got him a rose bouquet and a pretty butt plug with a shiny gem? ... a toy? for him?? he just wants to be loved and getting him any type of gift, especially sex toys, is the perfect way to ensure he knows he is loved and cared for. it validates his intense feelings of love and affection towards you

it's very important to remind him about alternating his clothes - the sour stench of sweat and musty air can cling to his older outfits, so getting him adjusted to wearing fresh clothing you picked out is beneficial to you both

brahmsy often helps himself to your bed and bedding, causing you to be pressed snugly to his lean body with the downy comforter wrapped securely around the two of you. if you're away from your room in the early morning, expect to return to a tall, snoring man bundled in all of you bed linen

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

brahms calls you daddy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his reverent gaze trails over your body.

brahmsy begs you to fuck him whenever he's feeling subby, so be sure to let him bounce on your cock - the real reward is the hickeys you leave on his pale chest while he grinds down and clutches your head close to his chest

slap your cock on his hole :( his neck will be aching slightly from his insistence on maintaining eye contact with you as he begs for you to be inside him

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size, not small in any capacity. sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as he remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your cock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation of your cock as he swallows down your hot cum. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to ride his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms daydreams about your lip-gloss, all sticky at the base of his cock as your tight lips suckle around his sensitive tip

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your bra strap peeking out from your shirt collar. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him... hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

brahms has a penchant for cumming with his tip pressed against your hole - he loves working you up with his tongue while stroking himself then, while he's about to cum, he pushes himself into you. that tad bit of resistance met against his tip is enough to make his balls tighten and cock spurt hot ropes

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping pussy, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your clit is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty bud, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your cunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

brahms calls you sir relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his devoted gaze trails over your body

he loves being able to have the hand of another man to teach him how to indulge in pleasure. the absolute mind-blowing rush he feels whenever he sinks into your tight heat rivals what he heard heaven was like, especially when you moan so loudly as he strokes your cock

whenever brahms is fucking you from behind, he has a habit of digging his fingers into your soft lower tummy, massaging his fingertips back and forth over his cockhead as he's buried balls deep. his eyes glaze over at the added pressure and drool dribbles onto your back as his jaw goes slack

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to fuck his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size - not small in any capacity, so sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as brahms remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping tcock, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your dick is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty length, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your boycunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

imagine his surprise when the pretty, sweet nanny has a bulge under her skirt just like his! his brain short-circuits when he realises you have similar bodies - he's able to transfer his knowledge of pleasure across to you. when he discovers what makes you tick, he practices on himself to get used to it and to hone his technique

he'll sew you a special set of lingerie, with hair bows to match. brahms is a craftsman at heart and nothing makes his heart swell more than watching you showcase his work. he'll fuck you in front of all the mirrors in the house - he wants to see you absolutely fall apart while you display his handiwork. brahmsy truly believes you have the beauty of an angel, that the greatest honour is to have you wear his creation proudly :(

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths outside, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your hard nipples making soft peaks in your shirt. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him… hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your girlcock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation as he swallows down your hot arousal. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

fuck greta and by extension, fuck malcolm ig. this took a hot minute tbh. am cooking up some more stuff but might take a while.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[finallydoingfanfics]

Stalemate - a Spencer Reid imagine

At the BAU, you’ve always been the one to hold the team together—smart, compassionate, and unwavering. But behind the calm exterior, you’ve been in love with Spencer Reid for longer than you’d like to admit. When Maeve’s death shakes Spencer to his core, you step in, offering him the comfort and support he needs. But in the midst of your quiet devotion, it becomes harder to ignore the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. Warnings: mention of death, depression, angst x fluff

The shots rang out, jarring and final, their echoes slicing through the tense air. The space between the two bodies—the life now lost—seemed to stretch into eternity, everything else falling away, drowned in a sharp, suffocating silence. Diane and Maeve lay motionless on the floor, the world around them holding its breath, and in that moment, the oppressive weight of what had just happened pressed down on the room. The team stood frozen, their guns still drawn, eyes wide with disbelief. Y/N could feel the heaviness of it, too—their breaths shallow, their hearts racing, each person lost in the gravity of the tragedy.

But it was Spencer who commanded her attention, his face a mask of shock, his body rigid as he stared down at Maeve’s lifeless form. His eyes were glassy, unblinking, not seeing anything around him, not seeing her. He was lost, distant, swallowed whole by the crushing sorrow.

Y/N’s heart twisted, and without thinking, she took a step toward him, her hand outstretched, silently offering him what she always had in moments like these—her steadiness, her warmth, the comfort she had always been able to give him when the world became too much. She couldn’t bear to see him like this. She needed him to turn to her, needed to be the one to help him through this.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t even look at her.

And it was the most painful thing she’d ever felt—this cold, unbearable space between them. She knew he was suffering, but as he stood there, utterly still, completely lost in his grief, he didn’t reach for her. Didn’t acknowledge her presence.

She took another step forward, her voice soft, breaking through the thick silence. “Spencer…”

His body trembled, the first sign of emotion breaking through the stoic façade he had carefully constructed. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. And then, in a moment that shattered everything, Spencer crumpled. His knees gave way beneath him, and he sank to the floor in a heap, his chest shaking with the force of the sobs that tore from him. His hands gripped the floor, his breath ragged, as the dam finally broke.

Y/N stood frozen, her heart in her throat. The others were still, too, their eyes sympathetic, understanding, but none of them moved toward Spencer. It was his grief to process, his to carry. She started to move toward him, her instinct to comfort him overwhelming, but as she reached out, he flinched, pushing her away.

She froze, staring down at him, hurt flashing across her face, but her eyes softened almost immediately, realizing what she had done. She hadn’t meant to be pushy; she hadn’t meant to force him to respond. Two shots, two lives lost in an instant. But the only thing that truly shattered her was knowing that in the end, she wasn´t able to comfort him, even in a small way.

Weeks had passed since Maeve’s death, and Spencer had slipped into a darkness so deep that even his closest friends struggled to reach him. They tried—Penelope left baskets filled with thoughtful little gifts outside his door, each one overflowing with his favorite teas, warm scarves, books he’d yet to read. Every day, the baskets sat untouched, gathering dust, ignored, as if their very presence was too much for him to bear. JJ came by more than once, knocking, her voice warm and persistent as she called his name, hoping he’d find the strength to open the door. But her gentle words were met with silence.

In the end, they’d called her—one more friend, one more plea, one more person who wouldn’t give up on him. By the time JJ called, she was already on her way, her car humming softly against the quiet of the early morning. The city was beginning to light up but she barely noticed, focused entirely on what lay ahead. She could still hear JJ’s worried voice in her mind, the way it cracked when she whispered, “Please, he won’t even look at us. We don’t know what else to do.”

As she reached Spencer’s apartment, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to hold steady, to keep her emotions in check. She knocked gently, three soft taps on the door, then called his name. “Spencer,” she said, her voice low but firm, hoping he’d hear the determination woven through it. “It’s me. I’m here to help, but I need you to open the door.”

Silence. She waited, listening for any sign of life inside, but heard nothing. Her brows knitted together, and she knocked again, this time with a little more force. “Spencer,” she repeated, her tone firmer now. “Please. Just open the door.”

Still nothing. She clenched her jaw, her frustration mounting alongside a deep, aching worry. She’d seen him break before, watched him struggle and come out the other side stronger, but this felt different. This time, he was truly shutting everyone out. Taking a step back, she squared her shoulders, her voice dropping to a sharp edge.

“All right, Spencer. If you don’t open this door, I’m going to break it down. Morgan-style. You know I’m serious.”

Still, there was nothing. Her chest tightened with a mix of anger and sadness, she’d given him enough time alone, it was time she went over and star helping, actually helping. Bracing herself, she took a step back, focused her weight on her foot, and kicked the door with all her strength. The lock gave with a loud crack, and the door swung open, revealing a dark, silent apartment.

The sight that met her inside was worse than she’d imagined. Spencer’s once orderly, meticulously maintained apartment was a mess. Books lay strewn across the floor, some pages half-ripped, others lying open as if he’d tried to distract himself with their words and failed. Dirty dishes sat piled on the coffee table, takeout containers scattered across the counter. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, casting a murky shadow over everything, and there, in the middle of it all, was Spencer.

He was sitting on the floor, hunched over, his back against the couch. His eyes were hollow, rimmed with dark circles, and his clothes hung off him, wrinkled and stained. His hair was disheveled, a far cry from the neat, careful way he usually kept himself. He looked up at her, but there was no spark of recognition, just a dull, vacant expression as if he was barely even aware of her presence.

“Spencer,” she said softly, kneeling down in front of him. Her heart ached as she looked into his tired eyes. “You can’t keep doing this. You have to take care of yourself.”

He mumbled something, words half-formed and incoherent, his gaze slipping away from her, and she could feel the weight of his grief pressing down on him, crushing him under its terrible burden. She wasn’t going to let him drown in it. Taking his hands, she gently helped him to his feet, guiding him toward the bathroom.

“You’re going to take a shower,” she told him, her tone gentle but firm. “You don’t have to do anything else, just… let the water wash over you.”

He stared at her for a moment, blinking slowly, and then, as if too exhausted to argue, he nodded, shuffling into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. She could hear the faint sound of water running, a small win, but nonetheless a win in her book.

While he was in the shower, she took a deep breath and surveyed the wreckage of his apartment. She gathered the empty takeout containers first, tossing them into the trash, then stacked the dirty dishes in the sink, scrubbing them clean one by one. Moving through the room, she picked up the scattered books, careful not to touch the torn ones, stacking them neatly on the corner by the bookshelf where they belonged. She stripped his old bed covers for new ones she brought from her own home, and laid a soft, fresh pair of pajamas she’d bought for him on her way there on top the neatly made bed. She even started his laundry knowing he wouldn’t have thought of it himself.

Once the apartment looked somewhat presentable, she checked on the laundry and went back to the kitchen, unpacking the groceries she had picked up for him, starting on a pot of chicken soup, the warm scent of spices soon filling the air. She took a quick glance toward the bathroom door, noting the faint wisps of steam coming from underneath. Her heart softened as she thought of him finally allowing himself this small comfort.

When he finally emerged, freshly showered, his hair damp and skin warm from the heat of the water, he looked around, blinking in surprise. He seemed almost disoriented, as if he’d stepped into a different world entirely. The faint scent of his fresh pajamas reached him—a soft, familiar smell that stirred something deep within him, something that had been numb for weeks. The clothes smelled like y/n, like her warmth and gentleness, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, letting that feeling wash over him.

She handed him a glass of water, watching as he drank slowly, his gaze beginning to clear, if only just a little. “You need to rest,” she said softly, guiding him to the couch where she’d laid out a blanket. He nodded, too tired to protest, and lay down, letting his head sink into the cushion, his eyes fluttering shut.

While he slept, she continued her quiet work around the apartment. She aired out the room, opened the windows just enough to let in a breeze, then returned to the kitchen cooking the various dishes she had planned, a combination of Spencer´s comfort food as well as some nutritional options. By the time she was done, the apartment smelled of warm chocolate chip cookirs, fresh air, and a hint of her own familiar perfume, creating a quiet, comforting warmth.

A few hours later, Spencer stirred, blinking as the scent of home-cooked food filled his senses. He looked around, the apartment feeling strangely light, almost unrecognizable. He took a deep breath, the unfamiliar feeling of peace settling over him. For the first time since he’d lost Maeve, something inside him felt almost, maybe, just a little bit alive.

When she noticed he was awake, she brought him a steaming cup of tea and settled beside him, offering him a gentle smile. “Feeling any better?” she asked, her voice soft, careful not to push.

He nodded slowly, wrapping his hands around the warmth of the cup. “A little. Thank you,” he whispered, his voice rough with disuse.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet hum of the apartment filling the spaces between them. He could feel the weight of her presence beside him, solid and unyielding, a quiet strength he didn´t want to admit he’d needed. Spencer clenched his fists, the guilt twisting inside him like a knife as he felt the faintest urge to reach out for her. He hated himself for it—how could he even think of finding comfort in someone else, in her, when Maeve was gone? It was a betrayal of everything he'd lost before he even had it, a cruel reminder that he could still feel something other than the ache of grief. But the quiet pull toward her, the instinct to lean on the steady warmth she offered, was there, and that only made the shame burn deeper. He didn’t deserve her kindness, not when Maeve’s memory was still so raw, not when the emptiness felt like it should last forever. But she softly put her hands on his, caressing his tough skin, and finally every thought he had went away.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and he looked up, confused. She exchanged a small smile with him and stood, crossing the room to open the door. There, waiting outside, were the rest of the team—Morgan, JJ, Penelope—each of them carrying the same worried expressions, softened now by the relief of seeing him safe, even if still broken.

As the team settled in, they moved quietly, almost instinctively, each taking up a small task as if they’d rehearsed this a thousand times. JJ and Morgan set about picking up the torn books, handling each one with care as they pieced his beloved library back together. JJ gently ran her fingers over the spine of each volume, smoothing out pages that had been crumpled in Spencer’s desperate, frustrated hands. She and Morgan worked in unspoken harmony, taking each book to the shelf, restoring order to the chaos one small piece at a time.

Across the room, Garcia moved to the collection of gift baskets she’d left outside his door, carefully unpacking each one. She picked up a small, hand-written note from the top of one of the baskets, her eyes softening as she read it aloud: “Spence, I found these at that little bookstore you love. I thought they might make you smile.” Beneath the note were two novels, each carefully selected, and wrapped with a ribbon Garcia had tied herself. She placed them on the coffee table, their bright covers a reminder of the love and effort she’d put into every detail.

Rossi straightened the picture frames that had been tipped over, adjusting the angle of a few things that looked out of place. Spencer’s apartment had always been neat—organized to the point of obsession—but now, it was a reflection of a man who had lost all sense of normalcy. Rossi placed a framed photograph of the team on the mantle, setting it in a way that made it visible from the couch, hoping that even in his sorrow, Spencer would see them, all of them, watching over him.

Hotch, standing near the window, crossed his arms and watched as the rest of the team restored Spencer’s world. He finally joined in, opening another basket, pulling out a small, heartfelt letter Garcia had written. It was filled with little messages of support and humor, each one signed with a heart. Hotch read it quietly, his expression softening before he placed it where Spencer could see it, so that he’d be reminded of everyone’s love whenever he reached for the small comforts Garcia had filled her baskets with.

Y/N set the pot of pesto gnocchi, whose recepie she had perfected with Rossi by her side on the counter and walked back into the living room, glancing at Spencer as she passed. He was looking at the photograph Rossi had placed carefully on the mantle, his gaze distant, lost. She hesitated for a moment before quietly taking a seat next to him on the couch, just close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence but far enough to give him space. Her eyes caught his for a fraction of a second, and it was enough to make her heart race unexpectedly. It was a fleeting moment—too quick for him to realize, too quick for either of them to really acknowledge—but in that brief glance, something shifted. A small spark of recognition, maybe even something that felt like warmth, passed between them before he quickly looked away, his grief still too heavy for him to allow anything else. She swallowed hard, forcing the fluttering in her chest to settle. She knew, of course, that he was still hurting. The grief of losing Maeve—of everything that had happened—hadn’t left him. And it wasn’t something she could fix.

She doubted if she was the right person to help him through this, if she could truly understand the depth of his loss. The thought struck her—if it had been Maeve who was still alive, would she be doing a better job? Maeve had reached him in ways that no one else could, filling parts of his heart that felt out of her own reach. Maybe Maeve would have known the words to say, the silence to hold, a way to soothe him that she just couldn’t seem to find. The ache of that thought left her feeling hollow, as if she’d failed him before she even began.

Just as Reader’s doubts threatened to overtake her, she saw Spencer shuffle toward the kitchen, his movements slow and tentative. Her heart stilled as he reached for one of the cookies she’d made, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked it up. It was such a small thing—one bite, barely a glance in her direction—but it was enough.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked inside her. She’d loved him from day one, quietly and completely, understanding him in ways she hadn’t even realized until now. She knew his habits, his fears, just how much sugar and butter was needed for the cookie batter to taste just the way he wante it. Spencer, who could barely bring himself to look up these past few weeks, had turned to her, even if it was only for a simple comfort like a homemade cookie. She felt the weight of her doubts ease, replaced by a steady certainty that maybe, just maybe, being there for him—knowing him better than anyone else—was exactly what he needed.

As the team began to gather their things, their voices hushed with sympathy, Reader prepared to leave with them. She’d spent hours here today, helping where she could, watching over Spencer as he navigated his shattered world. But as she turned to follow them out, she felt a light touch on her arm. Spencer’s fingers grazed her sleeve, hesitant yet deliberate. She looked up and saw something in his eyes—a silent plea that he didn’t have the words for. It was clear as day. He didn’t want her to go. She gave him a small nod, and the team exchanged knowing glances, understanding her unspoken promise to stay.

The apartment grew quiet after they left, the air thick with a bittersweet stillness. Spencer hadn’t spoken since he’d asked her to stay, but that was alright; she was in no hurry to fill the silence. They both sank into the quiet, letting it wash over them like a balm to soothe the day’s grief.

Finally, as the hour grew late, he looked up at her, eyes weary. "Would you…stay the night?" he asked softly, barely above a whisper. She nodded without hesitation, gathering a pillow from the couch, preparing to settle there.

But he reached out again, his hand brushing hers with an urgency that made her pause. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze shifted toward his bedroom, the unspoken invitation clear. She understood immediately. He needed her close, needed to feel that he wasn’t alone in the dark abyss of his sorrow. She followed him to his room, her heart thrumming as she took her place beside him.

As they settled in the quiet of his room, Spencer seemed to be wrestling with words that wouldn’t quite come. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “I keep thinking about what I could have done differently… how maybe if I’d been smarter, or faster, I could have saved her.” He stared down, his fingers knotting in the edge of the blanket. “All those years I spent learning how to solve things, save people… and none of it mattered when it actually counted.”

She listened, letting him speak at his own pace, her heart aching with each word. She wanted to tell him that he’d done everything he could, that none of this was his fault, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. So instead, she reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t pull away.

Spencer took a shaky breath. “And now… it’s like everything that made sense just disappeared.” He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I finally knew what it was like to be seen, to be… loved. And now…” His voice trailed off as he looked away, the words seemingly too painful to finish.

He was quiet for a long time, his face etched with a sorrow so deep it seemed to swallow him whole. And then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he continued, “I think I lost my chance at being loved. I think that… that was it." His words were fragile, aching, the sorrow woven through each syllable.

She turned slightly, her chest tightening at the helplessness in his tone. “Spencer, I’m so sorry,” she murmured, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say. I wish I could make this easier somehow, but this… this might be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to live through. And I don’t know how to help you.”

He was silent for a moment, his hand inching toward hers on the bedspread, his fingers grazing hers. “The worst thing that could ever happen,” he said slowly, his voice barely holding together, “is the thought of losing you.

"You know," he continued, his words halting and filled with a shame that seemed to pain him as much as his grief. "As horrible as it sounds… I’ve thanked God, over and over these past weeks, that it wasn’t you. That you’re still here. Becase I know—if I lost you, too, I would choose to not go on.”

Her heart broke at the despair in his voice, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching over, she took his hand, squeezing it tightly, as if she could anchor him to the moment. “Spencer, listen to me,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You didn’t lose your only chance at love. Maeve was a part of your life that mattered, and nothing will ever change that. But you… you haven’t lost everything.”

He looked at her, his eyes searching, vulnerable. She took a steadying breath, feeling the words press forward, too powerful to hold back any longer. “Because you’ve already been loved, Spencer. I’ve loved you from the very start, from the first moment I laid eyes on you when Gideon introduced us on my first day at Quantico.

The words settled between them, soft and certain. She felt a weight lift, the truth finally out in the open, like releasing something she’d held too close for too long. His gaze softened, his eyes wide with an almost childlike wonder as he looked at her, his thumb brushing gently over her hand in silent acknowledgment. He didn’t say anything, but she could see the emotion flickering in his expression, the small glimmers of disbelief and relief as he took in her words.

Slowly, he reached out, wrapping his arms around her, his embrace both tentative and fierce, as if she were the one lifeline he had in the darkness. He held her close, pulling her to his chest with a vulnerability that felt like both a surrender and a grounding. His lips found her forehead, pressing a gentle, tender kiss there, then another, and another, each one like a quiet promise. With each kiss, she felt him relax, felt the tension give way to something softer, as though her presence alone was beginning to soothe the raw edges of his grief.

They didn’t need more words. As they lay there, their breaths finding a rhythm together, she felt his arms tighten around her, his presence like a warm shield against the loneliness. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart steadying as he held her, thinking that if this was how it felt to be close to him, she couldn’t imagine how beautiful it would be when he was truly ready to love her in return.

They were no longer in zugzwang, now resting in a stalemate, where neither had to move. And though checkmate loomed on the horizon, it no longer mattered who claimed it first—both had already won.

[diejager]

4 when requests r open.. How wld u Feel abt a bear hybrid reader who’s slick is .. Honey ? 👁️

—🍯

Cw: weirdly sweet cum???, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, tell me if I missed any. Honey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours??

Perhaps you shouldn’t have eaten so much honey, the sweet goodness that you indulged in when it was given to you in abundance, a rare treat to normal bear but a common dish to you. You loved honey like Pooh liked it, always seen with a small jar and lips stained with the sweet treat, tasting as sweet as honey whenever they walked up to kiss you, pressing themselves so close to you and lips devouring any groan from you, tongue lathering your lip to taste the honey from it and steal a taste of you from your mouth.

Gaz and Soap had always liked the sugary taste of you, your honeyed lips, your honeyed tongue and honeyed mouth, every part of you was sweet, a sugary treat to men like them when you were a big and grizzled bear. A Kodiak bear with both size and strength, but a soft and tender heart, and even sweeter lips that Gaz loved kissing and biting whenever he crossed your path, pulling you by the collar and passionately kissing you. A gentle but powerful wave crashing against you for something as simple as a taste and affection, his hands wandering down and holding you against him by the waist. Soap was more eager than Gaz, rough and devouring with his kiss, chaining you to his body by the hips, hands teasingly grasping at your ass and grinding against you to instigate you, push you further into his arms.

Then you found yourself always so, so sensitive, your core spiking in a strong pulse, sharp and boiling. You blamed it on the Scot, who couldn’t hold his tongue after he ate you like a starved man, left to dry out and hunger without food or water, gorging himself on your now sugary slick, the old tangy and salty flavour turned soft and sweet as honey. He shared it with Ghost, who had manhandled you to his room, stripping you naked and spread over his cold sheets while his tongue laved across your slit, the tip teasing your clit with soft circles and dipped into your drooling cunt. He groaned and moaned at the taste of you, burying himself between your thighs, nose bumping your throbbing nub and tongue curling deep inside of you to pull more sweet slick from your warmth and down his throat. 

From Ghost, it reached Gaz, who’s ears practically perked up at the temptation, sliding from one darkened wall to the other until he found you in the rec room with a small cup of honey and a finger in your mouth. He was rather forceful - surprisingly strong against your bear-like strength - in his demand, bending you over the counter, ass upturned and head buried in your arms while you mewled and panted, left a victim to Gaz’s skillful tongue. The way he dove in and curled, swirling your sweet slick around his tongue and drinking it all in, his lips placed firmly around your fluttering hole, drinking your cum like he would water. 

The from him, Price was the last to be aware, ordering you to his office for a taste. You sent his papers and pens to the floor, your flaying arms knocking things over in your search for purchase while he held you down by the hip, groaning when you closed your thighs around his head and fingers pulling his hair, locked in and tugging him closer and closer. He murmured praises, complimenting you for your magical body —one of a kind, he said, to have one’s slick tasting like honey. 

They left you panting and limping, walking around the halls with a powerful throb between your legs after every servings, grumbling under your breath at their insatiable tongues. Perhaps you shouldn’t have made it a habit, now that they made it a show of stocking up your reserve of honey with bigger and larger containers, grins stretching the corners of their lips. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 4

2.4k | fluff Simon liked the way you looked at him (part 1) (part 5)

“Why was the strawberry crying?” Simon asked, casually buttering his toast that Saturday morning.

“Why?”

“’cause it was in a jam.” He looked too proud of himself as he took a bite of his toast.

You laughed, looking up from the near empty jar you were trying to clean out with your butter knife.

He loved seeing your bright smile as you sat there across the small table. Even that this was his first breakfast with you, it was better than dinner. In the gentle sun, your eyes were even lovelier, wisps of hair around your face like a halo. The building was far quieter at the hour and you felt closer, like you were all his in this quiet corner of the world.

“Luv, I was wondering if you could teach me how to bake? If you don’t mind.”

“But I’m not a very good baker.”

“Bollocks. Your pie was mint.”

You chuckled. “Okay, that one I can.”

After breakfast, you laid ingredients on the counter next to the recipe - your handwriting distinct, pleasant. Were you ever going to write something for him? A little note would be more than enough, but if he could ask, he’d prefer a letter, maybe, for when he’s away thinking of you.

“Would you like an apron?” You held yours up, with a cat print peeking out of the pocket.

He chuckled, looking over as he washed his hands. Would you like him more in one? “If you reckon I need it.”

You tied it around his waist and let out a small giggle at the sight. “So you want to cut the butter into smaller pieces,” you said, working the butter into the flour with the back of a fork before handing it over to him.

Simon pressed the fork onto the butter, but the sheer force of it made flour fly out of the mixing bowl.

“Shite,” he said under his breath.

“Gently.” You placed your hand over his, pushing it down. “This way.”

He took a breath as he watched how you did so easily, but most of all, revelled in your touch. You’d already held hands, but this was something else. He wished you didn’t let go. And you didn’t, instead wrapping an arm around his waist, watching, as he proceeded with the job you assigned.

He peered at you and you nodded approvingly.

“Now tip that out and fold the dough over itself until it comes together - no dry flour left.”

He dumped the lumpy, powdery mess onto the board and brought it together with his large, awkward hands. But a few folds in, the dough started to transform into a cohesive ball. His brows rose in amusement.

“Look at that, you’re a natural!”

He chuckled to himself as you beamed at him proudly.

Next came the filling. You placed the peeler in his palm - the very same one from last week - his fucking nemesis. He picked up one of the apples, dwarfed by his hand, hoping he had better luck with rounded objects.

He didn’t. He was taking off chunks off the pitiful fruit. He should have come prepared and asked his mum how to peel apples without looking like he was about to stab someone. They certainly didn’t teach you how to use a peeler at the butcher.

“I like to do it this way.” You lightly took the tool from him and demonstrated with another apple. “Hold it here and pull away, like this. Even pressure for the thinnest peel.”

Thanks for not calling me daft.

Following your advice, the assignment didn’t turn out to be that hard. You put on some music as he cored and cut up the apples. At least he was far better with traditional knives.

“Quality control,” you said, popping a piece in your mouth.

Simon chuckled, placing the knife down as he turned to you. “Any good?”

“Mhm. Sweet, but tart enough.” You reached for the mixing bowl again, but he caught your wrist, making you look up at him.

“Would you please let me kiss you?”

You blinked and his heart stalled in those few silent seconds, but you stepped towards him, clutching the front of his black shirt. He sighed as he leaned in, arm around your waist, finally tasting your lips - perfect just like he’d always imagined them to be. The apples were indeed sweet.

You pulled away and bit down your smile, eyeing him from under your lashes before looking away. He too couldn’t stop the grin that crept up his face, nor the thumping of his chest. He picked up the knife and continued the task at hand while you stood next to him measuring out the rest of the ingredients.

On the occasions he looked over to make sure he was following your directions correctly, your gazes met and you turned away, hiding your face behind your cup of jasmine tea. He found it endearing.

The crust he rolled out looked mangled but you reassured no one would be able to decipher the patchwork when it was all done. As he brushed the top of the pie with egg wash, he nodded when you asked if you could take a photo of him.

You gave him a little peck when he finally closed the oven door, just like you had each time he finished a step. He felt like a dog, getting a treat for every good behaviour. The pie felt like a chore now. Could he not dive into all his treats already?

You sat on the couch as the pie baked.

“I’ve always wondered how far your sleeve goes. Does it extend to your chest?”

“Just a sleeve.” He pulled his shirtsleeve up revealing the entirety of his monochrome tattoo.

Your lips pursed. Did he look that good that it flustered you? You were adorable. He liked the way you were looking. Could you never look away again?

“Would you believe me if I told you I had a nipple ring?”

You laughed, tearing your gaze away from his arm. “No way.”

“It was a stupid bet I lost shortly after I enlisted.”

“What was it?”

“It’s too embarrassing. Maybe next time.”

Simon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as he leaned back. With your hand on his chest, you closed the gap and he just wanted to melt into a puddle against your soft lips. Your breath hitched as his fingers ran down your spine.

You lay on top of him, and his wary fingers toyed with the ends of your hair. The both of you remained silent in each other’s embrace, kissing occasionally, until the timer on the oven went off.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Simon took another bite of his pie that he had to admit tasted far better than he expected it to, perhaps even as good as yours if he was generous (if he closed his eyes anyway). No soggy bottom, at least. Merry Berry would be proud.

“I’m going to the soup kitchen, so I’ll get something nearby after.”

How could he forget? It was the first Saturday of the month.

“You need to pick up loaves from the bakery, yeah? Need me to drive you?”

You smiled. “I’d really like that if you don’t mind, actually. Oh, I need to text Ben, in case he forgets.”

“Ben?”

“Your mums’ boss. We pickup leftover bread there at a discount.”

As you buckled up in his SUV, he realised he never got to hand you your gift last night. He reached for the bag in the backseat.

“For you.”

You pulled out the grey fabric and that beautiful smile bloomed across your lips again.

“Oh, Simon, that’s lovely.” Your fingers traced over the little patch on the left side of the chest. A slice of apple pie. You looked up at him. “Thank you so much.”

It was impossible for his heart to not skip at such a sight.

As you settled the payments with Ben, Simon helped you haul the crates of bread into his car. He was glad he was around this time to help you out otherwise you’d have to take a taxi all by yourself like you always did.

“Ben, mate?” As Simon carried the last of the crates, he stopped at the door which the older gentleman was holding open. “You reckon you’ve got anything to do with how the bastard found out my mum works here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know him.”

“Did you contact the coppas? Ran a background check on her perhaps?”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Oh, I had no idea-“

Mr. Riley must have played the worried husband and reported her missing back home to have been notified.

He sighed. “No worries, Ben. It’s not your fault.”

“R- really?”

He felt bad about how the old man gripped the door, still looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m just glad you were there with her. Oh-“ He fished out a wad of cash from his back pocket and handed it to Ben. “To cover the discount. See you around, mate.”

Still in disbelief, he flinched at the pat on his arm.

At the facility centre, the lieutenant effortlessly carried the load into the kitchen, but he lingered at the building’s entrance.

“You reckon there’s anything else I can help with inside?”

You smiled. “Always.”

Perhaps Simon should have asked what the menu was before offering a hand, but he was glad it was the humble garlic bread and that his slicing and buttering skills were decent. You introduced him as a friend to the other volunteers, who were polite (or scared) enough not to question how close he stood by you. But was it bad if he wanted more, if he wanted them to ask who he really was to you?

At 6, people started pouring into the hall. Some knew you by name, greeting you with a grin that faltered when they laid eyes on the stony lieutenant next to you. It must have been comical how the both of you looked behind the small table handing out garlic bread, his frown a stark contrast to your bright self.

But he was having a grand time simply being close to you, seeing you and your friends making people smile. His pinky trailed down your hand.

You looked up at him, shoulder bumping his arm. “You keep our country safe. That’s why we get to have nights like this.”

He smiled when you held his hand. He supposed he was a tiny, tiny bit responsible for this. Your reassurance gave him a new sense of pride, that he was doing something.

After a late dinner you insisted Simon pick, the both of you headed home. When he made it to your flat in the baggiest shirt he owned, you were on the couch, freshly showered just as he was.

You should be kicking him out for bothering you even at this hour, so why did you take him by the hand and lead him to your bed instead? He didn’t resist when you lay next to him, your hand propping your head up.

His heart raced with you this close, watching your soft eyes travel over his face that he didn’t feel deserved to be mere inches away from your beautiful one.

“Simon Riley,” you said quietly, your thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Hm?”

“You’ve got a pretty name.”

Even my last name?

Your gaze flicked up. “Your eyes are really pretty too.”

His eyes fluttered close as he let out an uneven breath.

“You’re beautiful.” Your fingers trailed down his scruffy jaw.

He was certain now his chest was about to explode. Were you high? What did you see in him?

He’d never been touched so carefully before, gazed at so softly. Not even by his first and last love, his childhood sweetheart, whom the thought was the one before duty got in the way. It had been so long ago that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a bit of peace, to just be - if things were ever this pleasant.

Each ‘a little more’ of you carried him further and further, and he’d floated a little too far from shore - the shore which had thinned into a distant line in the horizon, foreign from where he was as he threaded.

Wasn’t this only going to end one way? He was playing with fire, going down a slippery slope, to be in involved with you as this mess of a man. He did terrible things for a living. He wasn’t good enough for you, couldn’t you see? Or were you too compassionate to understand? It was all the more why he shouldn’t be here with you, in your bed, under your touch, even when he didn’t ever want to leave this flat of yours.

But you let him stay anyway, even after the shameful admittance of his past. Could it be that it didn’t matter to you, that for the first time he was alright as he was, despite his shortcomings? Perfectly loveable, as you were in his eyes?

Hope glimmered in him. I want to be good enough for you.

“Why are you so… nice?”

You took a moment to reply. “It’s easy to be. Being nice is free.”

It was not. Nothing was, but who was he to break your heart?

“Have you not been hurt from that?”

Your lips quirked into a resigned smile. “Unfortunately so, but sometimes it’s worth it.”

He pulled you in, his fingers tangled in your hair as you let out a soft giggle against his lips. When he eventually let you out of his grasp, a little breathless, you flicked the bedside lamp off.

You yawned. “If you’re heading back, please slide the key under the door.”

He didn’t want to. He scooted behind you, a heavy arm around your waist.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. The bet was that Arsenal was going to lose to Man U. Well, they didn’t, but my left nipple did.”

Your body shook with laughter. “Of course it was a football bet.”

He smiled into your hair. “Goodnight, luv.”

“Night, Simon,” you mumbled.

Pressed up against you in your soft bed, so cosy with your scent surrounding him, his eyelids soon grew heavy.

His worst demons could visit in his dreams again, but nothing was going to take him out of your bed that night. Maybe, this time, things really could be alright for once, and not only in his favourite flat in Hereford.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @astraluminaaa @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @nocturnalreader106 @sparrowgalaxy @lyenera

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

Day 18 - Monster under the bed

【Synopsis】 : A creature that feeds off lust and fear finds himself falling for the very prey he was supposed to consume. What a cruel twist of fate.

『Word count』 :  1.33k

-> Genre: 18+ Angst, Suggestive. Dark Romance.   

Pairing: Demon!Boogeyman!Hongjoong x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Fingering. Pet names. Crying. Honjoong is a mess, someone protect this poor baby. This hurt me to write.

Networks: @k-vanity @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober list | Tip Jar ♡

It started with an odd dream here and there. Your mind picturing a shadowy figure with elegant attire. His grin was sharp and daring, and his eyes were piercing like freshly cut diamonds. He was perfect in every way possible. You would ask for his name, but he would never reply. You would ask where he was from, but he would never reply. No, his hands would find your hot skin, your mind begging for him to wander closer to your aching core. His touch was always gentle, loving even. It was like he spoke a million words with a simple graze of his fingertips. And as he dipped closer and closer to your dripping cunt, your body would jump awake, scanning your bedroom with a battered breath and racing heart.

“Fuck…” You sighed, feeling a wetness pool between your legs.

Nights like that happened often. Falling blissfully into a slumber filled with him, talking to him without a reply. There was dancing, laughter, smiles, and soft lingering touches. He was everything you wished for and a part of you thought this was some cruel trick your brain has decided to play on you. You were cursed in keeping a relationship so your brain has made up a perfect man in your dreams. It was pitiful really. But every time you walked through the archway into the lavish room with him sitting, waiting for you in the centre, who were you to deny such a pleasure.

Little did you know, there was something much darker beneath your lustful dream. A shadowy, monstrous secret lying just beyond your reach, lying quietly under your bed. Not even his little grunts could be heard when you were deep in your dreamland. His long tentacle-like shadow limbs would hold the bed frame as he had to fight himself to pump his cock while he smelt you soak your sheets over and over again. For you see, He is a demonic being feeding off your pretty dreams, getting stronger by each night. His shadowy limbs rubbed against your sleeping figure as you shifted under your sheets. His cold hands danced just where you needed, where he needed. It was like he was buttering up a roast for cooking. Making you reach the right amount of frustration, and with all the pent-up sexual desire he could stomach. You were his perfect little meal, and he was waiting for the right moment to pop you out the oven. Fully baked and ready for his consumption.

And tonight, you were ready. His body slipped from his position that he had held for months. Standing tall at the end of your bed. You looked elegant. The most beautiful little human he has ever seen. Normally he would get exhilarated at the idea of taking another human's life but for a moment as he watched you shift in your sleep, the way your blanket moved, exposing your heaving chest, seeing your shirt had risen, showing your midriff. You were so innocent, and for the first time, he felt guilt.

‘No...I have a job to do.’ The demon shook his head as he slowly crept onto your bed until he was caging you with his shadowy figure. He watched for a moment, the way your nose scrunched and your brows knitted. Your little breaths picking up with each beat of your heart. He took a stray piece of hair that laid on your face, brushing it gently out of the way before leaning down to your ear and whispering, “Wake up, Angel.”

You felt your body shiver at the sound of the nasally voice. Your eyes staring right at the shadow figure in front of you. You tilted your head, “D-did you just speak?”

“Wake up Angel.” The man repeated, you looked around the lavish room, wondering what might be different. Why is he telling you to wake up? What could be wrong, “You need to wake up…”

“But I don’t want to wake up. Not yet. Let me stay here with you for a little longer.” You begged, holding onto his shadowy, ice-cold hands.

“I know you want to stay here my love, but you need to wake up. Trust me.” His voice was unlike what you described to yourself. His voice was better, rich like velvet with a higher tone. You took a deep breath, trusting him. And when you awoke from your slumber, you let out the large gasps as your whole body shook. Your eyes met deep yellow ones. His face finally clear for you to see. His smile was sly, showing off the sharpness of his teeth. He was not human… “Hello, Angel.”

“I…You’re real…How…” You were confused, your mind racing. Your hand found his cold cheek, feeling the softness of his pale skin. He was actually real, your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you.

“That’s a long story. Let's focus on you right now.” He chuckled, his hand moving slowly up your thigh. It was then that you noticed your blanket was thrown off and his knee was pressed tightly between your legs. You gulp, redness painting your face as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Y-you want to…” You trailed off, feeling embarrassed as if you hadn’t spent months with his man, falling strangely in love with him. “I mean... I just um…”

“It’s okay Angel. Relax. I wanna help you.” His purr in your ear, his fingers dancing around your panties waiting for permission. And once you nodded with a little ‘yes’ his fingers sunk beneath the wet fabric. Your eyes never left his as you felt him sink a finger in finally where you needed him most, in your aching cunt.

“Fuck…” Your hands flew to his shoulders, your legs spreading more so he could sink another finger into you at a steady pace. You felt your body crackle, a familiar yet different feeling pooling in your gut. You bucked your hips needing more and if it was like the demon read your mind—which he did—he sped up his pace adding a third finger. “P-please. Tell me your name…”

The demon sighed, knowing it was forbidden to give out his name. He has normally just given out fake names when his victims have asked but for you. He felt guilty doing that to you. You were different, you deserved to know who he was. Leaning down he whispered gently in your ear as he left you fucked yourself on his fingers, “Hongjoong…My name is Hongjoong.”

“That's a pretty name.” You hiccuped feeling close to the edge. He sat up suddenly looking at you dumbfoundedly.

“P-pretty?” spoke barely above a whisper, feeling his heart twinge with an engulfing amount of sadness.

“Yes. It’s a pretty name. Just like you.” You confessed with a strained voice, reaching for his face again, gently rubbing your thumb over his cheek. Slowly, you pulled him down, lifting your head up to meet him halfway in a kiss but just as your lips brushed against his, it was like a blink and his shadowy figure ran right for the window, through the glass as if he was nothing more than smoke seeping through the cracks…. disappearing into the night.  You sat up suddenly, cold, confused, and heartbroken once again, and left wondering what you could have done wrong.

But unlike your confusion, Hongjong flew for the sky, tears running down his face as the cold air stung his face. Guilt riddled his body, disgust and disdain. He was a monster, a cruel demonic monster and you, his little sweet innocent human, called him pretty. You didn’t deserve the same fate as all the cruel lust-filled trash he consumed. He didn’t deserve the pain of having to know him.

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼�� 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.