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cheesecakethots · 1 year ago

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Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

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cumikering · 8 months ago

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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

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fandomwritingbit · 11 months ago

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Sweet girl pt.3

dad's friend William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

synop: Reader goes over to William's to pick up where they left off. Pacing? Who's that?

pt.1 - here. pt.2 - here.

warnings: smut (oral and grinding? dry humping but not dry, idk what you call it), coercion, inappropriate relationship, age gap, generally creepy William.

A/n: Happy new year's! Thought I'd get something dirty out to prove I'm still alive and kicking, hope you enjoy! I have no idea if it's good because I hate everything I write at the moment lmao x.

On your walk home you see him before he sees you. The pang of excitement in your chest is so strong it winds you as the sensation travels down lower, settling in the part of you that screams for attention when William is around. You should keep your head down and slip unnoticed up the steps to your house, but the trouble is that you want to be noticed. You’ve been high on the memory of last time, desperate to feel it again. So you stop still, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and looking over your shoulder until eventually you pluck up the courage and cross the road.

He’s doing something to his car, checking the tire pressure or something, still wearing his smart clothes from work. His head turns as you approach, the slow smile spreading across his face as he realises it’s little you, here to see him, has your head spinning already.

“Hi…” You start, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“Hi?” He grins at you as he stands up, pressing the tip of his shoe into the tire and seeming satisfied with the result. “You come over here just to say that?” William looks you up and down, another pretty little skirt showing off your legs, you must be doing this on purpose. Still though, you coming to him and seeking him out is a good thing, progress towards you becoming his pet.

You blink, hating that he almost instantly makes you feel like an idiot, especially given that you can’t seem to summon the faculties to prove otherwise. It’s pathetic how your face is flushed already as you struggle to figure out a response, why did you come over here? It’s stupid really, you’ve come to see him with the hope that, like last time, he’ll steal you away and corrupt you a little more. But you can’t exactly admit that.

“Uhh. I don’t know why I came over… sorry.” Is the sentence you mutter just to try and end the awkward silence that was blooming as he waited expectantly, and you know it’s daft the second you say it.

He laughs, which makes you feel doubly idiotic. “I’m only joking, sweetheart. You came over because you want to pick up where we left off the other day, right?” Your eyes go wide at his bluntness, shame doesn’t seem to be an emotion he’s ever come into contact with, instead it feels like you end up getting his share of it.

As sweet as you look all embarrassed and hesitant, he lets you have some reprieve and changes the subject, “Are your parents expecting you home?” Now, as naïve as you are, you do know that that question actually means ‘are you free to disappear for a while?’, and it fills your stomach with butterflies.

And again the tiny devil on your shoulder persuades you to go along with him. “No. No, they don’t know what I’m doing.” You dare to look him fully in the eye then and the intention in them has your core burning.

“Then you have to come in for a bit.” His hand rests on your lower back as he guides you towards his front door, already struggling with the urge to tear that skirt right off you.

After getting inside, you look nervously over your shoulder to see him closing the door, that familiar excitement sizzling in your veins, and when he turns to see you looking all small and scared he can’t resist teasing you. “God, sweetheart, I can read you like a book. You’re nervous, huh?”

Rubbing your arm you avert your gaze, “I mean, yeah, a little.” The scoff from him shows that you’re not doing a great job of being convincing. It upsets you a bit that you can’t act all sexy and brave because you are lost in what to do, but you can tell that he likes that, and that feels very dirty.

“Oh, you don’t don’t have to be.” He moves closer to you and you battle with yourself to not move away, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t have done this before but you can’t help it. “I told you, we’re going to have fun.” He raises his eyebrows on the last word, and despite how overly sweet his tone is it does nothing to combat the intimidation of his bigger frame, now close enough that you swear you can feel his heat. His hand raises up to toy with the collar of your shirt, resting just above the curve of your breasts.

The grazing touch is like ice on your skin, making goosebumps appear everywhere they’re able. “I just-” You blink in surprise at yourself talking, unsure when you decided to speak, “I don’t think I’m ready to uh… you know-” He does, in fact, know.

“Fuck?” He puts you out of your misery, the word crass enough to make your answer visible on your face. It sounds natural coming from him but you could have though of a million other ways to say it. “That’s what you’re scared of?” His hand moves up to tilt your chin to face him, his thumb resting over the plump of your bottom lip. “Listen, that’s not going to happen 'til you really want it. More than you clearly already do.” He was right, you do want it, you’re wet, your panties sticking to your core in a shamefully eager way.

You nod slightly in some form of acknowledgement but it’s cut short when he kisses you, the thought instantly evaporating from your head as he takes control of you. It’s that simple, his mouth on yours, his hand taking in the shape of your hips, that’s all it takes before you’re lost. You’ve been kissed before, had your share of grimy teenage make-out sessions, but this is insane, it gets more so when his tongue invades your mouth, stealing some pitiable noise from you. Instinctively you press against him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll stop.

Pretty quickly his grip on your waist dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of your skirt and beginning to pull it down, your hand stops him. He pulls away, “You gonna let me see you? Huh?” He’s asking but still touching you, the other hand plucking your shirt and lifting it from your skin, watching your expression. You bring your lip between your teeth, nervous but still able to hum some agreement. Your shirt soon comes over your head and the skirt slips from your feet, leaving you feeling very exposed under his gaze.

He takes half a step back to take in the sight of you in your bra and panties, “Now, who are these for?” He asks, aroused-tinted mockery coating the words. You’re not sure what he’s talking about until he flicks the strap of your knickers lying over your hip.

“What?” You flinch when the material pings back against your skin, the amusement in his eyes a little mean-spirited. “N-no one.” You manage to remember to respond, only making him grin.

“No one? This skimpy little bra and panties, for no one?” You know he’s taking the piss but you can’t help but pout at the mockery, your brows furrowed when he moves, still chuckling, to kiss your neck. He’s slightly unshaven and the scruff against your skin has you squirming, your hand finding a natural place on the back of his head, fingers lacing and pulling when he bites an aching kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder. It’s the blazing kind of pain that only lasts a moment, but the pitiful moan from you would have anyone thinking otherwise.

It’s that pretty sound from you that forces him to briefly lift you onto the long table just next to his front door, pulling your bra down to flick his tongue over your nipple whilst roughly grabbing the other. He feels a little bad for you when you whimper from his touch, remembering that he should be a bit nicer to you really, so he takes himself away from your tits, dropping down to his knees. You firmly press your legs together in response, but when his warm hands land high on your thighs, you let him slowly pull them apart, revealing the wet spot on your panties.

You watch him still biting your lip, anxious of what he was going to do. He smirks up at you and you’re so distracted by it that his sudden contact with your core makes you jump, he traces the shape of your pussy over your knickers, dragging over your clit and then up higher to catch the edge of the garment. You help him pull them down by lifting yourself from the table, shivering when he leans in close, his breath making your pussy clench.

“You poor, pretty little thing.” He sniggers, just the sight of your cunt has precum leaking from his cock. You watch idiotic as he slowly drags his tongue over your pussy, the sensation completely foreign but something you instantly fall in love with, evident in the way you moan. He maps out the path from your entrance up to your clit with his tongue, giving himself something to think about later. This perfect untouched cunt, sweet as fucking honey all for him; the thought has him grabbing himself over his trousers, giving his cock some much needed attention, as he focuses his action on your clit. It’s like he knows exactly what you need, because he finds the right rhythm immediately, slowly circling your nerves in a way that has you writhing above him.

He has to hold your thigh to keep you still, the mixed feeling of this intense stimulation and the dull rub of his facial hair could give you whiplash. You’d be so embarrassed to see yourself right now, pathetic moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as you fall mercy to the insane building of pressure in your core. It’s like a flame on gasoline, a sudden, scorching need to cum that burns your legs all the way up to your chest. He grunts into your pussy, making you open your eyes for the first time in apparently ages, just to see him stroking his cock, turned on from making you dumb.

“God, fucking look at you.” He stops his sucking of your clit to speak, leaving you hanging in such a devastating way you want to cry. “It’s very hard not to give this cunt what it fucking wants.” The sharp words have your walls clenching, only proving his point. Without warning he stands, still holding your legs open, and taps his cock against your core, the idea of him fucking you seems very real and very scary right now, especially with how big he looks. But you want it, you really fucking want him to do anything to you he wants, just as long as you can cum.

The precum dripping from his head clings to your slick as he slides his cock down, digging delightfully against your clit before notching at your entrance, sharply glancing at your watery eyes. He’s a man of his word but fucking hell, he wants to feel that tight little hole around him. He grunt as he moves up again, sliding his cock through your folds, grinding it against your bundle of nerves and reigniting the climb to your peak.

“Come here.” He mutters as he pushes you down slightly on the table, catching your legs and lifting them up to press your thighs together, holding both your ankles in a firm grip. He continues rutting against your cunt, your thighs creating a slick grip for him, almost as good as the real thing. Your too concerned with the rearing of your climax to think about how fucking lewd this is, this older man thrusting against your pussy and you’re enjoying it, it’s maddening. But you don’t really care, not when your walls flicker with waves of pleasure, squeezing around nothing as your legs begin to shake. You cum hard enough to lose your power of speech, instantly overstimulated by the continued pressure on your clit.

When you cum he loses it, your wet heat and desperate hands grabbing what parts of him you can reach, needy for him, is intoxicating. You feel him move your legs apart again, letting them fall to his sides, taking hold of his dick and stroking it til he finishes. A gasp leaves your lips at the filthy sensation of his cum coating your pussy and lower abdomen, you can hardly believe it’s real and not the end scene of a dirty video.

“God.” He groans, taping his cockhead against your pussy just to make you flinch. You just whine in response half in the odd sense of calm after tumbling over your peak, but half in self pity for the stickiness between your legs. You watch as he fixes himself, very aware that you're still slumped on the table but unwilling to move.

“Come on.” William says through a smirk, you look a right state and he prides himself on his good work. “You'll have to get cleaned up.” He takes your arm and pulls you forward 'til you land on your feet, now very aware that your bra is clinging on for dear life and the rest of your clothes are in a heap on the floor.

“I'll just grab my-” You start, indicating towards the pile, but he cuts you off.

“You're in no rush, shower first. Worry about that later.” You probably would have protested but he guides you forward, turning a corner and entering a bathroom.

“Thank you.” You say a little uncertainly. Yes, it's nice of him to show you where things are and let you get sorted before turfing you out; yet something about the glint in his eyes screams ulterior motive. He leaves you to it, all sorted with a towel, and disappears to make sure your panties end up in his pocket where they belong.

Pt.4

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #fnaf movie #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader

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cuffmeinblack · 7 months ago

Text

Crimson Sheets

Ron Weasley x f!reader

Tags: explicit | period sex | blood | cunnilingus | menophilia??

1.5k words

Summary: Ron doesn't let a silly little thing like menstruation stop perfectly good morning sex.

A/n: I feel like I should apologise. Eh. But seriously if period sex gives you the squick obviously don't read!

Sheer torture.

That's what this was.

Your skin heated with the flush of arousal, every gentle flick of Ron's tongue against your lips sending your heart hammering against your rib cage. There was no escaping this without the bitter pang of disappointment and the resultant hours spent in agonising frustration.

With all the regret in the world, you pulled away from the heated kiss, panting and fingers flexing around the fabric of his shirt, held together by a mere two buttons. You’d been busy unpicking them when you’d had the bitter realisation that you had to stop.

Ron's eyelids fluttered, lips still parted as his groggy mind caught up to what you’d just done. He looked adorable, confused and entirely fuckable—and therein lay the problem. You groaned and covered your face with your hands, willing the throbbing ache between your legs to dull.

“What's wrong? Not feeling it?” He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions from his voice; you could hear the barely masked disappointment, the hint of concern.

“No! I mean yes, God, yes I am, but…fuck.” Your fingers slid down your cheeks, looking up into Ron's eyes that sparkled in the gentle dawn light, shadows dancing across his fiery ruffled hair. “I just can't. You know…” You gestured vaguely to where your bodies met, his morning glory pressed against you. It wasn't enough, could never be enough; the tantalising friction never quite brought the relief you desperately sought. Another low groan left your mouth, hips shifting in surrender—it would have to do. “M’on my period,” you muttered.

Ron, rather than simply rolling off you or wincing in disgust, merely licked his lips and his gaze continued to linger on where you were pressed together. When he finally looked at you through hooded eyes, framed in those pretty blond lashes, he did so with a devilishly crooked smile. He shrugged with one shoulder, resuming his slow grinding against your aching core. “Doesn't bother me.” And then his lips were once again pressed to yours, firmer, his tongue slipping between your parted lips.

“Ron…,” you gasped, further debate captured by his increasingly heated kiss. His hands were roaming, shedding his layers.

Thank Merlin.

You kissed him back eagerly, fingers tracing the waistband of his pyjama trousers before tugging them down, grabbing a handful of his behind to pull him closer, desperate for more friction. He grinned against your lips and shuffled out of the last of his clothes, kneeling before you completely unabashed. His cock stood proud, thick and glistening; your core throbbed in response.

He was staring hungrily at your curves, sliding your vest up and shorts down to expose as much skin as possible, and then it hit you—shyness. Your hand flew out and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t look, I need to take off—”

“Don’t be daft, I’m not afraid of a bit of blood,” he scoffed.

There was no deterring him, as much as it pained you to see him ogling your knickers with a blood-stained pad clinging to them for dear life. To his credit, he didn’t bat an eyelid, didn’t seem to care at all; merely threw them over his shoulder and resumed kneading every inch of flesh he could find with a mesmerised sort of worship whilst his erection twitched with want.

Ron took a palm full of your tender breast and lowered himself on top of you, lips finding the sensitive skin behind your ear. Kissing, licking and murmuring praises, he sent you into a pleasure-filled stupor where nothing else mattered but his touch. He trailed down your body, his copper mop fisted tightly in your hand.

The ache between your legs grew painful as he took his sweet time, breathing so ragged you could scarcely call his name between gasping for air. When finally you felt him nip at your hip bone, your eyes flew wide in realisation of where he was and what he intended to do.

“Ron, what—”

“Just relax, will you?” He tutted and planted two large hands on your thighs, spreading your legs wide with a firm grip that invited no debate before shuffling to get comfortable on the bed between them.

All you could do was gape, disbelieving. You almost shoved him away in shame, but what exactly was there to be shameful of? Ron was busy kissing your inner thighs, tinged pink with blood, entirely unperturbed and moaning happily as he did so. You loosened the grip on his hair and he looked up at you, smirking, before delving between your thighs with renewed vigour.

His tongue found its mark almost immediately. A great shiver ran up your spine as he licked between your folds, right over your sensitive clit. He pushed your legs higher, firmly planted against his shoulders, and nestled deeper.

“Fucking hell,” was all you could manage to say as he licked and sucked without hesitation, barely drawing breath. He was clearly enjoying himself, just as much as he usually did when he’d beg to taste you; even as you saw red blooming on his cupid’s bow and the tip of his nose, he didn’t falter.

Your combined moans filled the room, almost deafening amongst the wet, squelching sounds emanating from between your legs. Your face was already too heated to blush, and he was far too distracting to give the mess much thought. Your orgasm didn’t merely creep up on you; it ramped up so swiftly your head spun, until you were gripping the sheets and arching your back clean off them, gasping Ron’s name with an uninhibited plea.

His eyes fixed upon you so intently it might’ve been unnerving, yet was so beautifully intimate as he wordlessly coaxed forth your release. When he added two fingers inside you, you finally let go. Stars erupted in your vision as you reached your climax and fell into blissful oblivion, the orgasm so intense you almost cried with relief.

“Th’s’it,” Ron mumbled, before returning his mouth to you, gently lapping in rhythm to the waves of pleasure threatening to drown you. His fingers curled inside you, languorously pumping in and out, as if beckoning more, more, more. “You’re so bloody beautiful, fuck…”

It might have been a mere minute later, yet felt like an eternity before you could finally manage to prop yourself on your elbows, dizzy and enveloped in a heavenly haze. Ron smiled up at you, and he looked like he’d been caught in a massacre. Red streaked his chin, his nose; his lips stained so darkly with fresh blood it reminded you of a vampire caught feasting on his prey.

“I…what a mess,” you said weakly. He still had his fingers inside you, lazily caressing. He licked his lips again and smiled.

“You still taste amazing,” he replied, blinking slowly.

You let out a shaky laugh, still helplessly aroused; either in despite of or because of the sight, you weren’t sure. Though your muscles protested, you sat up, intending to push Ron back on the side of the bed still unmarred, but he had other plans.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was low and husky, dripping with lust, and the fire in his eyes caught you by surprise.

“I thought I'd repay the favour,” you said by way of explanation, but clearly he didn’t want your hand, or your mouth.

“I need to be inside you.” He clambered over you, and you fell back against the mattress. Hands stained crimson pinned you beneath him, thighs spreading your legs wide once more. His cock prodded at your slick entrance, twitching eagerly. He looked feral, animalistic, almost.

“You like this, don’t you?”

He answered with a hard thrust, one swift motion that filled you completely. “You have no idea,” he rasped. He pulled out slowly before plunging back inside with a low groan. “You feel so good.”

There was no stopping him, and you had no intention of doing so. Every nerve ending you possessed seemed sensitised, and his relentless pounding turned you into a limp and boneless mess that knew only pleasure and nothing of your own name. He held you tightly, his knuckles white, hips snapping with synchronised moans. You thought you managed to say his name but it only came out as a whimper when your walls fluttered around him, another orgasm consuming the last of your ability to form coherent speech.

“That’s it, come for me…” Ron gasped, his gaze fixed where he continued to pound into you, watching intently as you squeezed around him. “Fucking hell, babe, you’re such a mess.”

He said it not laughing or with disgust but in awe, utterly transfixed. “I’m gonna…”

“Come inside me, Ron,” you whimpered.

He needed no more encouragement; with a shudder and an ear splitting moan, his orgasm exploded, filling you with his release. Each pulse of his cock came with a new gasp or expletive, his head thrown back but eyes still on you. Soon you were dripping cum on the ruined bed sheets as he thrusted slowly inside you, unable to take any more.

You had nothing left to give; you were ruined.

Ron slumped down next to you, and you lapsed into astonished silence for several minutes before you both tried to break it at once.

“That was ama—”

“Best sex ev—”

You both laughed, relieved that the other felt the same.

When you looked down at your bodies, legs now entwined and Ron’s hands firmly encircling your waist, you smiled. The blood would wash off with the sweat and other bodily fluids once you stood under the shower; just another to add to the steady stream of water. All those days you’d shied away from intimacy for fear of disgusting him now felt like wasted opportunities.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asked.

“That it’s a shame. I really liked these bed sheets.”

#what even is this #ron weasley #ron weasley smut #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you

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candy69gurl · 7 months ago

Text

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 6

Warnings- consequences of self harm, private touching

wc- 2.3k

You wake up abruptly, your eyes flutter open, your body drenched in sweat. You stare at the ceiling, your head pounding, hands reaching for your phone. Messages from your friends and Gojo Satoru fill your screen.

It's 5 AM, you realize, feeling disoriented.

You struggle to get out of bed, your legs feeling unsteady. You notice a warm sensation between your legs, realizing you're wet, your core feeling damp and humid. You head towards the basin.

Staring at your reflection, you notice that same short hair, droopy eyes.

Suddenly, you vomit, bile burning your throat as you stagger back, your stomach twisting in revulsion.

Then.. Everything comes flooding back to you, the Malevolant Shrine, the tangled intimacy with Sukuna, the swirling mix of pain and pleasure...

You freeze in place, your heart hammering against your ribs. Panic claws at the edges of your mind, the looming specter of pregnancy flooding your thoughts. You vividly recall Sukuna's climax, the fear of its consequences gripping you.

With trembling limbs, you collapse to the ground, tears tracing salty paths down your cheeks.

"Oh, God," you whisper, your voice a fragile tremor. "Am I pregnant?" Your mind whirls in a tempest of uncertainty, grappling with the weight of the possibility.

In a sudden twist, Sukuna's lips form on your cheek, his tone dripping with mockery. "Are you daft? You're not pregnant," his voice laden with disdain cuts through the air.

"But why do I feel sick?" you inquire, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

"Oh, dumb girl," he croons, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I merely indulged your soul, not your mortal shell," he chuckles softly.

Your heart lurches, a surge of bewilderment flooding your senses.

"So, my soul was... defiled? Then, I am still untouched?" you stammer, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Sukuna's grin widens, his lone eye glinting with malice.

"Yes, your physical form remains pristine," he confirms, his voice icy. "But your soul will forever bear the mark of our encounter, even if it traverses to another vessel," his words drip with menace.

Shock grips you tightly, leaving you staggered.

"What have you done... to my soul?" you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with dread.

Sukuna's grin stretches wider, malevolence gleaming in his eyes. "I've granted it an unforgettable taste of ecstasy. It will ache eternally for more of me, regardless of where it may reside," he purrs, satisfaction evident in his tone.

"You... monster!" you spit out, your anger boiling over.

"Mhm, daring to insult me once again?" Sukuna's voice challenges you, daring you to defy him.

Fury courses through you, igniting your veins.

"Yes! A monster, you are!" you shout, a fire lighting within your eyes. "Why did you do it? Why would you taint my soul like this?"

Sukuna's laughter rings through your mind, a mocking soundtrack to your turmoil.

"Because that was the only way to tame YOU," he replies, his voice laced with arrogance. "Besides, your soul was so eager, so ready to embrace the sin we offered. Why resist temptation?"

A new wave of disgust washes over you, a bitter tide of betrayal.

"I feel sick.. So sick," you cry out, your chest heaving. "And now, I'm left with the memory, the shame... I hate you, Sukuna!"

His laughter dies down, replaced with quiet, cold amusement.

"Perhaps, that's where you're wrong," he whispers, his voice like icicles. "You crave me, desperate for more, even if you deny it. And I believe you'll come begging for it, sooner than later," he predicts.

The accusation leaves you reeling, struggling to regain your footing.

"No..." you gasp, your denial wavering. "I can.. NEVER."

Another wave of laughter washes over your mind, a cruel riptide in your mind. "We shall see, darling. We shall see," he promises, his voice ringing with dark confidence.

With a shudder, you turn away from the mirror, wiping your tears.

"This doesn't change anything," you vow, your voice firm. "I'll never let you control me, never let you win."

Determination courses through your veins, a steely resolve settling into your core.

Nausea gnaws at your insides, your body rebelliously refusing to accept sustenance. Each bite results in heaves, bile scalding your throat. As if to torment you, Sukuna's presence lingers, smug and triumphant.

"Why can't I consume anything? My head hurts so much," you complain, your frustration palpable.

Sukuna chuckles softly, his voice caressing your mind, "You see, dear, you bled profusely last night," he explains nonchalantly, "While I healed your wounds, your body isn't used to such treatment. The trauma is taking its toll on your equilibrium."

Your stomach churns, the reality sinking in. "Is there... nothing I can do to feel better?" you plead, your voice trembling.

Sukuna's laughter echoes in your mind, a cruel serenade to your plight.

"Ah, do you understand now?" he mocks, his voice syrupy sweet. "You shouldn't have tried such foolish acts, suffer now."

Your heart pounds, rage coursing through your veins.

"That's your fault," you snap, your voice sharp with anger. "You made me angry"

He sighs, his voice laced with false regret, "This is what I get after healing your body? Accusations?"

As you run your fingers through your hair, the thin strands catch uncomfortably. A decision forms in your mind. Slipping on a cap, you step into the quiet morning, hoping to evade notice.

Alas, fate conspires against you - Gojo and Yuji materialize in front of you, concern etched on their faces.

"Hey, you alright?" Gojo questions, his brow furrowing. "And why the cap?"

Your heart skips a beat, guilt gnawing at you. "Oh nothing.." you mutter, avoiding their gaze. "Getting a haircut."

Yuji tilts his head, studying your face, "Is everything alright?" he asks, worry lacing his voice. "You don't seem well."

Laughter of Sukuna flashes through your mind, "Go on tell them you tried to kill yourself."

Ignoring Sukuna you speak up, "Just tired, Yuji," you dismiss, forcing a smile. "Really, it's nothing."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his gaze. "Let's go to Shoko," he suggests firmly. "We need to check on you."

Your breath hitches, anxiety coiling around your stomach.

"I'm fine, really," you insist, trying to shake off their concern. "Just a bad night's sleep."

Yuji frowns, his eyes searching yours. "Pls tell us if something's wrong," he urges, his voice filled with sincerity. "We're here for you."

Your heart aches, gratitude and guilt warring within you. "Thank you, both," you murmur, offering a weak smile. "I promise. But today, I need some space, please?"

Gojo nods reluctantly, his gaze softening. "Alright, then. Just remember, we're here if you need us," he assures you.

Yuji reaches out, gently touching your arm, "Take-", but all of a sudden, he pauses, looking at you in disbelief.

"Y/N, you are cursed", Yuji speaks, withdrawing his hands from you.

Your eyes widen, shock washing over your face.

"Remember, you are not allowed to tell them anything", Sukuna warns, his voice clear through your mind.

"Yes, Fuck you Yuji," you laugh waving at them leaving the scene with confidence.

Yuji looks at Gojo after you leave, " I feel weird sensei. She is indeed hiding something from us."

Gojo replies, " I am aware of that. Gotta do something about it."

At the parlor, you opt for an undercut, the stylist expertly trimming your locks. As the transformation unfolds, you can't help but feel renewed. With a fresh look and restored energy, you venture back to your place.

"Don't mess with my hair again", you threaten Sukuna in your mind.

"Don't provoke me then," Sukuna retorts, matching your tone.

Throughout the day, you attempt to eat, engaging in small battles with Sukuna.

"I blame you for this," you grumble, your voice laced with irritation. "For making me feel like this."

Sukuna's voice echoes in your mind, "Oh, spare me your misplaced outrage," he responds, his tone dismissive.

"You ruined everything!" you retort, your voice shaking with anger.

"Everything, yes," he agrees sardonically. "Except for the fact you are still alive."

Silence descends between you, the weight of his words heavy. You swallow hard, conceding his point.

The evening casts its shadow, painstakingly slow hours stretching before you. Despite Sukuna's taunting, a faint empathy seeps through his words. Silent tears track down your cheeks, blurring your vision. An overwhelming sense of helplessness consumes you, your heart heavy.

As darkness falls, you retreat to bed, unable to find solace in sleep. Tossing and turning, rest eludes you. Your thoughts swirl like a tempest, each wave crashing against the rocks of your soul. You remember, Gojo and Yuji tried to comfort you today, their concern gnawing at your conscience.

Guilt tightens its grip, suffocating you.

Sukuna's voice echoes in the silence, "Stop pitying yourself," he advises, his tone unexpectedly gentle. "It doesn't suit you."

Torment gnaws at your insides, hunger and sleeplessness conspiring against you. Each rumble of your stomach serves as a reminder of your failure. Frustrated and desperate, you toss and turn, seeking solace in the darkness.

Sukuna's voice cuts through the silence, "Enough of this self-flagellation," he drawls. "Do something about it."

Curiosity piqued, you listen as he continues, "Touch yourself. Release the tension, and perhaps find sleep."

Defiance courses through your veins, your jaw tensing. "No way," you retort, your voice firm. "I'm not going to listen to your perverse suggestions."

Sukuna's laughter resonates, a sinister melody in the dark.

"You know it would ease your predicament," he purrs, his voice teasing.

Your heart races, temptation coursing through you. But you resist, adamant. "Not happening," you state resolutely, turning away from him. "If I fall asleep you will do weird things to with my body again."

Sukuna's laughter fills the void, his voice rich with amusement. "Fair enough," he relents, his tone mockingly placating. "But if you change your mind..."

Unsettled, you huddle under the covers, the weight of his words heavy on your mind.

Trembling, you hesitate, the truth of his words gnawing at your resolve. Gripping your sheets, you reach for your clit, the sensation immediately electrifying.

Sukuna's voice intrudes, "How delightful," he croons, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "You are really doing it."

Embarrassed heat floods your cheeks, mingling with pleasure. Ignoring him, you focus on the rising tide of sensations, each stroke bringing relief. Despite the distraction, your hand continues its steady rhythm, easing your restlessness.

He chuckles, "So vulnerable, so weak."

Sukuna's voice filters through your mind, his words laden with smug anticipation.

"You know I can help, right? Make it better?" he proposes, his tone smooth.

Unease twists your insides, but you consider his offer for a moment. With a final resolve, you push him away.

"No," you utter defiantly.

His voice drips with disappointment, "You can trust me right?" he sighs, resignation evident in his tone.

"That's the least thing I do", you spit.

With a shaky breath, you continue, focusing on the building sensations. Pleasure washes over you, slowly ebbing the turmoil within.

Sukuna's voice pierces the quiet, "Feeling good?" he inquires, his tone laced with curiosity.

You nod, your breath ragged. "Yes... I've never felt like this before."

A pause ensues, suspense hanging heavy between you..

His voice hums with satisfaction, "Then let's take it further. Insert, one finger," he suggests gently. "Just one."

Hesitant, you consider his proposal. Fear threatens to undermine your courage. "I don't know... I'm scared," you confess, your voice wavering.

"Don't worry you can take it", Sukuna assures you.

Cautiously, you follow his instruction, inserting one finger, gasping at the new sensation. Waves of pleasure wash over you, heightening your arousal.

Sukuna's voice vibrates with approval, "See? Doesn't it feel good?"

Breathlessly, you agree, "Yeah... it feels good."

Another pause stretches between you, anticipation mounting.

"Two fingers," he encourages softly. "Go ahead."

Pulse racing, you obey, adding a second finger. A fresh wave of pleasure engulfs you, your moans growing louder.

Sukuna's voice resonates, "Good girl," he praises, his tone approving. "Now, deeper."

Obediently, you move your fingers, exploring deeper. A surge of ecstasy courses through you, your body trembling in response.

His voice echoes in your mind, "There you go. Keep going, feel it."

As you continue, an uncanny sensation unfurls – a mouth forms from your palm. Its tongue flicking and lapping at your clit sends shockwaves of pleasure cascading through you. Overwhelmed, you cry out, your body bucking involuntarily.

Sukuna's voice rings triumphantly, "Ah, the moans you are making.."

Panting heavily, you struggle to respond.

In awe, you stifle your cries, covering your mouth with your other hand. Despite your efforts, the sounds escape you, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Simultaneously, a second mouth appears, its tongue delving into your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Sukuna's voice rumbles with satisfaction, "Shh... It's okay," he murmurs, his tone husky. "Let go."

Your body trembles, pleasure and embarrassment warring within. As his tongues dance against your clit and lips, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation.

His voice echoes in your mind, guiding you. "Come for me," he coaxes, his tone seductive.

With a final, fierce thrust, you climax, a deafening scream trapped behind your hand. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes into you, obliterating all thought. Your body convulses, surrendering to the bliss.

His voice resonates, "That's it, sweetheart. Let it flow."

As the storm subsides, you collapse onto the bed, breathless and spent. Relief washes over you.

Sukuna's voice echoes in the stillness, his tone encouraging.

"Again," he urges softly. "This time, play with your nipples too."

Reluctantly, you obey, adjusting to his request. Your fingers explore your nipples, their sensitivity surprising you. Combined with the continued stimulation, a familiar fire blooms within.

His voice hums, "See how responsive they are?"

With renewed vigor, you succumb to the sensations. Pleasure builds once more, escalating with intensity.

Unexpectedly, your hand halts, replaced by a sudden invasion. His tongue plunges into your hole, sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you. Meanwhile, the hand manipulating your nipple transforms into a mouth once more. It suctions your nipple, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

The dual assault overwhelms you, a potent mix of pleasure and surprise. One tongue probes deep within you, its rhythmic motions stirring your core. Meanwhile, the suction on your nipple intensifies, a delicious pull that leaves you breathless. Sensations overload your senses, each action synchronizing in perfect harmony.

"Oh god!" you gasp, your body arching involuntarily.

His voice hums in your mind, "Almost there," he promises, his tone tantalizing.

Intense pleasure swells within you, threatening to break free.

"Please..." you plead in your mind, "Gonna cum again."

Sukuna's voice echoes in your mind, "Cum on my tongue, let me taste you," he assures, his tone confident.

The onslaught continues, his tongue and lips working in harmony. You teeter on the edge, each touch pushing you closer.

With a loud cry, you orgasm again. Ecstasy engulfs you, washing away all thoughts. Your muscles contract, riding the intense waves until exhaustion takes hold.

His voice whispers in your ear, "Well done, human."

Exhausted, you sink back into the pillow, your breathing labored. In the afterglow, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the residual pleasure.

Sukuna's voice lingers in your mind, "I wanted you to orgasm a few more times but for today, rest."

"O-oversenstive", you say before drifting off to sleep.

While you're lost in sleep, a shift occurs. You're unaware of the change, unmindful of Sukuna's return. His consciousness merges with yours, awakening a sense of familiarity.

His voice hums in delight, "Ah, it feels so good to be in this flesh again."

Curiosity piqued, he explores his newfound freedom, his fingers tracing your body. An instinct guides him, his digit finding your clit.

He chuckles, startled, "Whoa, it's clenching like crazy! and so fucking wet.."

Unease creeps in, his action initiating a reaction. Oversensitivity courses through your body, amplifying even the slightest touch.

His voice trembles, "Oh fuck.. this is so sensitive."

His fingers continue to explore, reveling in the hypersensitive state. Each stroke incites a jolt of pleasure that reverberates throughout your body.

His voice quivers with disbelief, "Damn, I didn't think it would be this strong!"

Unable to resist, he indulges in the experience, daring to venture deeper. Your body responds predictably, a fresh surge of desire building. Thighs shaking, abdomen twitching.

Ignoring the oddity of the situation, Sukuna dives in, his fingers delving into you. The oversensitivity catches him off guard, a low moan escaping your lips. The sound is foreign, a deep male voice emanating from your feminine form.

"M-mhm, a-ah this.. this feels better than that day's", his deep voice softly echoing the room.

Despite the peculiarity, the pleasure beckons. His fingers continue their assault, your body responding eagerly. Each thrust sends rippling waves of ecstasy throughout.

His voice groans, "I c-cant stop.." his tone strained. "Can't resist."

Driven by curiosity and pleasure, he persists, the feeling too exhilarating to abandon. Your body writhes beneath him, reacting to every touch.

His voice rasps out, "So tight, so hot... Perfect."

The feeling intensifies, nearing a crescendo. He struggles to maintain control, each thrust fueling the impending release.

His voice shakes, "You're going to come again..."

And you do, a third round of orgasms tearing through your body. Your body arcs, gripping his intruding digit in a desperate attempt to prolong the pleasure.

His voice growls, "God, this body feels incredible."

Once the storm subsides, Sukuna pulls back, his eyes wide with wonder. The unusual sensation lingers, a testament to your newly discovered oversensitivity.

With reluctance, he releases you, allowing consciousness to seep back in. As awareness returns, you find yourself in sleep.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13 @zurakoofgintama

Dividers from @cafekitsune

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brewed-pangolin · 11 months ago

Text

Captain Master Chef

OG Captain MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

Captain Soap MacTavish is, contrary to popular belief, an absolutely amazing cook.

His mastery at the savory side of the culinary world is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For example, his take on Beef Wellington is bar none better than your mothers (you'll never tell her) and you'd be lying if you didn't fall head over heels in love with him the moment you took the first bite of his Haggis.

Even as he expands his cooking repertoire into more unfamiliar horizons, you're never left unsatisfied or turning up your nose to anything he manages to put on a plate.

"Oh my God, honey. This is delicious."

You praise with a quiet moan. Taste buds blissfully overwhelmed with the succulent flavor of rice, muscles, and saffron as the remaining accents of his newly mastered Paella dance their melody along the length of your tongue.

"Hm. Thank you, love. Quite proud of me self if I'm bein' honest."

You take another bite, eyes rolling back as the taste of the perfectly crusted and savory socarrat hits your tongue like an aromatic tsunami.

Your eyes linger on him, casting him a doey eyed stare that the Captain returns with his own distinctively confident gaze. Silence falling over you both as you take your time enjoying each other's company and savoring the masterful delicacy he so elegantly created.

Reluctantly, your eyes begin to shift. Turning towards the kitchen as you take in the absolute disaster that sits atop your granite counter tops and stove.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, returning your gaze back to your Captain lover as he wipes his mouth with a flavor filled napkin.

"John, I love you. But goddamn, do you need to learn how to clean while you cook."

"What? It's not that bad, love."

"Not that bad? My kitchen's a disaster, John!"

Soap takes a long glance at the kitchen, surveying the damage before shifting his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Least there's no'a lobster on th'ceiling."

"Nothing will ever beat the lobster, John. That was truly a legendary experience."

"Yer mother didnae think so."

"Yeah. Because you threw the lobster at her!"

"The fuckin' thing pinched me!"

You exhaled an amused sigh, shaking your head with a smile that only he could pull to your lips.

"Thank God she had the pan in her hand, or I feel you'd have been excommunicated from any further family gatherings."

"Aye. Yer mother's got quite the swing, love. Better for me to stay on her good side, yeah?"

"I'd highly recommend so, John."

You gently scrape the last morsel into your mouth with an enamored and muffle moan. Wiping the corners of your lips as you take in one last look at the monstrosity that waits before you.

"Alright, honey. This mess isn't going to clean itself."

"No, it ain't, love. But I was cravin' a bit'a dessert before tacklin' that."

Your eyes narrow, brows knitting together while you shift your gaze over the counter tops for a sign of this hidden last course.

"What dessert? I don't see anything."

"M'lookin at it, sweetheart."

You pause. Rolling your eyes under heavy lids, you're met with the icy blue confidence within his stare that never seems to not have an amorous effect on you. Shifting in your seat to quell the ache already beginning to throb deep within your core.

"John MacTavish. You sneaky little bastard."

"Aye. I am. Now bring that sweet ass over here, lass. Yer Captain wants ta taste ya."

Your body then moved on its own accord. Easily snared into his hungry gaze and rolling timbre like a moth to a flame. The languid come hither of his fingers making your legs weak and breath quicken as you slowly sauntered over to your illustrious Captain.

The kitchen remained untouched the remainder of the night. Left in a culinary mess and disarray as Soap MacTavish feasted on your sweet nectar and filled the need to have your silken walls wrapped around his stiffened cock.

The dishes could wait. Your Captain would not. And you'd be daft if you ever denied Soap MacTavish what he wanted when you treated him so graciously to a feast that only you could provide.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @jynxmirage @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @haurasha @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

#Soft!Soap™️#Soap Squad™️#Captain Master Chef #the brainrot of Captain MacTavish #captain soap drabble #OG Soap #Captain MacTavish #Captain Soap MacTavish #mw2 Soap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #captain soap x you #captain soap x reader #call of duty #cod

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 6 months ago

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Oh my hey! Please, if you haven't already, please, could you do if you haven't please do favorite singer and song of the sdv bachelor/ettes

Oh, this is the first time I've posted an ask about a topic like this, so I hope I did it right. Thanks for the question, and have a great day! 🫰💕

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors:

Harvey's radio will always play Louis Daniel Armstrong or Ella Jane Fitzgerald because the doctor loves listening to jazz. If he wants something more energetic, Harvey will switch to the Latin music radio channel. He's sure to start dancing in the kitchen when Pete Rodríguez's "I Like It Like That" comes on. With music like that, cooking dinner becomes more interesting and fun.

It may sound pretty cliche, but Alex will definitely have a workout playlist with songs from the 80s rock and roll, pop rock and metal genres. Stan Bush ("Touch", "Fight for survive", "Never surrender"), Paul Engemann ("Push it to the limit, "The Eagle Lands"), Survivor ("Eye of Tiger"), Judas Priest ("All guns blazing", "The Sentinel") would be his favorites.

I'm sure Sebastian will be a fan of alternative rock (Nirvana - "Smell like teen spirit" and "Lithium"), emo-core (Taking back Sunday - "Cute without an "E") and electronic rock (almost all Celldweller albums, his favourite album is "Wish upon a Blackstar"). I also think that Sebby often likes to enjoy breakcore, not really remembering the specific artists and listening to whatever he likes. This is how I imagine Sebastian trying to explain to his mom what breakcore is (Warning: loud).

It's quite difficult with Sam because he's a real melomaniac. He listens to absolutely everything and almost all the time. Depending on his mood, he can listen to both heavy metal and pop music. However, the most frequently played bands in his music player are definitely the Beatles (his two favourite albums are "Help" and "Yellow submarine"), Coldplay ("Yellow") and Arctic Monkeys (the album"AM"). And also any popular song that gets stuck in his head (California girls we're unforgettable, daisy dukes bikini on top-).

Classics for Elliott! Our dear writer - and without masterpieces of classical music? Unthinkable! Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Vivaldi, Grieg, Debussy - all either playing in his little radio on the table, or the writer himself sits down at his piano and plays music by famous composers. He also loves modern classical music, and sometimes light jazz.

Shane listens to rock and heavy metal like Metallica, Ramstein, AC/DC all the time and you won't change my mind (I'll fight for that headcanon). I like to think he just lies on his bed, turns on his music player and plays the loudest heavy rock you can imagine in his headphones. One of his favourite songs that he listens to all the time is "For whom the bell tolls" (Metallica).

SDV bachelorettes:

Actually, I always thought that Maru would like synthwave and retrowave genre. I don't know why, but it would be just her style to include a playlist with synthwave artists (all Home songs, especially "Resonance" and "Head first"). If this genre is a too calm and the young inventor wants something a bit more energetic, her choice would be Daft Punk (Around the world, around the woooooooooooooorld!) or Disclosure ("Grab her" and "Omen" are her favorite songs).

Abigail's choices are quite chaotic. One moment she can listen to dark electro (Owl vision - "Horus" and "Holy shit"), and the next moment the amethyst lover admires folk music and promises herself that she will also learn to play the flute (Percival Schuttenbach - almost all songs, but especially "Karanfilce" and "Lazare", as well as Sowulo - the whole album "Sol"). She is also a lover of video game soundtracks and dark ambient. As I said before, pretty chaotic music taste.

All the popular pop, dance-pop and R&B you can think of - that's what Haley's playlist is. Ariana Grande, Doja Cat, Rihanna, Beyoncé, Britney Spears.... Haley doesn't have a particular favourite song, she likes everything. In the evening she likes to listen to the same pop and dance music songs, but in slowed down version + reverb.

Emily just can't live without energetic dance music. She could probably compete with Sam for the title of Starview Valley's music lover. And the genres can be diverse: from electro-swing (Caravan Palace) to Latin music (don't play Kaoma - "Lambada" in front of her, otherwise she will drag you to dance), from RnB (Beyoncé) to disco (Bee Gees).

When classical music is played, Penny falls into a melancholic mood. She is particularly affected by Claude Debussy's cycle of six piano pieces "Children's Corner", and she loves to listen to the piano version and the orchestra version equally. Besides classics, the young teacher also likes to listen to Enya (she always sheds tears when she listens to "May it be" or "Aniron"). But Penny will shed real rivers of tears if she hears the soundtrack from Titanic (especially "Hymn to the Sea").

If you ask Leah about her favourite music, the artist will name you a few groups of indie music and alternative music. After all, those are her favourite genres. In her free time, she sometimes likes to relax listening to Slenderbodies (especially "Belong" and "Opal ocean"), or Glass Animals (she can listen to the whole "Zaba" album all day long and she won't get bored). Leah also loves listening to songs by the indie duo King of Convenience (especially "Mrs Cold").

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv abigail #sdv penny #sdv maru #sdv leah #sdv emily #sdv haley #thanks for the ask!

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brights-place · 10 months ago

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BRIGHT POOKIE, hear me out, clay one based off of “i feel it coming” by the weeknd + daft punk (it can be nsfw) ALSO CAN I BE 🐈 ANON

Clay with an F! S/O inspired by

"I feel it comin” song by the weekend + daft punk

Pairings: Clay X Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, MDNI

A/N: OMG THAT SONGS SO GOOD FOR NO REASON I 100% recommend it P.S it's a sexual song ENHEHEH “I feel it comin” song by the weekend + daft punk

- Tell him what you feel comfortable with while he grips onto your thighs tongue deep inside your core slurping up your juices

- He takes his sweet time to hear all the noises your making the moans and groans while you grip his hair tightly

- He assures you that he will take his time and make sure you tell him what you like to make him do properly and lick and tease your clit

- He makes sure you relation ship is good as he reassures you that your safe with him - He loves how when he grips your thighs and slides his hands up and down inside your inner thighs while he feels your body twitch and shake in his hands

- He makes sure to push you down on the bed s your body rises abit telling you to stay which makes you bite your lip and nod

- You've been scared of love And what it did to you, and you may have been in a bad relationship but he wants you to know that you didn't have to run and your safe with him

- CLAY WILL 100% REASSURE YOU THAT HE WILL PUT YOUR MIND TO EASE - ESPECIALLY! Pleasuring you and setting your mind at ease as he tells you that you two don't have to rush When you're alone with him and in bed

- He enjoys how you are panting heavily as your eyes rolled back while he pulls his tongue back to tease you as you squirm in his hands

- He believes that your desirable and knows that you personally probably would rather be in a relationship as clay offers you all that. - He loves how you try to make him go back to eating you out as he smirks and pumps his cock before slowly entering you with an smirk - He wants to make you feel good and he already does and makes sure your comfortable and is open to anything

- Holds your waist as he makes sure your feeling good and fucking the hell out of you as he hears you whimper

- Loves how you drool and whine as he makes sure he feels your core tighten around him as he can feel you reach your high with him doing the same - as soon as you cum he smirks and decides to overstimulate you whenever he can as you whine and fall into his hands so easily

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#fluff #headcannons #x reader #clay x reader #trolls x reader #trolls clay x reader #clay #trolls clay #MY BABY #Trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls movie #trolls band together #HE’S AN LISCENSED CPA PUT SOME RESPECT ON HIS NAME FOOL!#trolls Clay lover #imagines

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jeonqkooks · 1 year ago

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jungkook #33 from the fluff list 💗 (even better if its like fboy badboy jungkook getting flustered and shy around oc hehe)

daft pretty boys | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

prompt: "i can't think around you."

rating: G

word count: 0.8k

genre/warnings: classmates to .. lovers?, college au, basketball captain!jk, he's neither a fuck boy nor a bad boy he's just a cute boy <3, fluff, swearing as per uzh, i plagiarized MYSELF bc the shit mentioned here was actually taken from my final paper for a film class two years ago lmaooooooo

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

If there's one thing that Jungkook absolutely despises, it's when people think jocks are dumb. It's a common misconception and it's downright hurtful sometimes; just because Jungkook is the basketball captain, doesn't mean that anybody has the right to assume he's got hay for brains.

However, if someone were to come up to him right now and say it to his face, he probably wouldn't disagree.

"So yeah, if they lose the memories of these relationships, I think they'd also be losing parts of themselves that make them whole, because an individual's identity is an accumulation of multiple smaller identities they have with every single intimate relationship that ultimately forms one collective identity, y'know?" you finish, and it's not until then that Jungkook comes back down to earth, realizing that he's just been staring at you this whole time. "Anyway, what do you think?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Same, uhm," Jungkook stammers. "I also thought about their collective relationsh- I mean, collective identity and multiple identities and-"

You purse your lips as you take in his whole demeanor, like a nervous child fumbling with his words. "Did you not watch the movie?"

He did watch the movie. In fact, Jungkook watched it three times over the weekend because that's how much he liked it. When he registered for this class - History of Popular Cinema - at the end of last semester, he was hoping that it'd be an easy elective so he could focus more on basketball and his core courses. And for the most part, this film class is easy. All he has to do is watch movies and hand in a few short essays every now and then. Piece of cake.

Then the final paper rolls around and the professor assigns everybody a partner to work with. In theory, it should still be a piece of cake, because there still isn't that much to do anyway.

So why is it so fucking hard all of a sudden?

Jungkook had never really noticed you before you became his designated collaborator for the month. Never saw you on campus, never saw you attending the games. Hell, he didn't even know your name until this final assignment.

"I watched it," he defends himself lamely.

"Okay. And?"

"It was good."

You frown, and all Jungkook can think about is how adorable that crease between your eyebrows is. How he just wants to reach across the table and smooth it over, or better yet, kiss it away.

He's fully aware of how stupid he must look, with his sweaty palms and his words falling over each other like goddamn Jenga pieces, in front of a girl that he's been obsessed with for weeks now. Jungkook doesn't normally do crushes, but the more time he spends with you to work on this lame ass paper, the more he finds his mind drifting to you even when you're not in his vicinity.

He thinks you're so pretty when you absentmindedly bite your lip whenever you're concentrating. He thinks you always smell like jasmine, and he's delighted by how your scent lingers on his own clothes after every time you meet, like he's carrying home a reminder of you. He thinks you're ten leagues smarter than him when you text him whole paragraphs detailing how postmodern filmmakers flirt with the concept of identity fragmentation through different types of cinematic manifestation as a reflection of the realistic postmodern person, because what the fuck does that even mean?

"You're not doing a very good job at convincing me you watched the movie," you say.

Jungkook groans internally - and a little externally too - as he runs a hand down his face. "I watched it, I promise," he tells you. "I watched it, and I really liked it. It made me think about a lot of deep shit that I don't normally think about."

"Uh huh," you say slowly. Your frown is still there, but now it's embedded in confusion as you try to understand his dilemma. "Then tell me about that. What was the deep shit?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

How is he supposed to explain that every single thought he had suddenly grew legs and yeeted itself out the window the second he saw you arrive today, wearing a stunning smile and a t-shirt that says Caution: Full of Shenanigans? Not once in his entire life had Jungkook felt so no thoughts, head empty.

"Because I can't think around you," he settles on being honest. "Because I keep thinking about you when you're not here, yet when you are, I can't even think at all."

It takes a minute for his words to sink into your brain, and Jungkook watches nervously as a blush spreads across your cheeks, so rosy that he just wants to grab your face and pepper kisses all over. For the first time since he has known you, you don't know how what to say.

The sight of you, rendered speechless by him being rendered an idiot, has Jungkook blushing too. Despite the patch of bashful silence that ensues, somewhere outside the metaphorical windows of his and your minds, both your thoughts are riding off into the sunset together, holding hands.

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ju-nebugg · 4 months ago

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a complete (and ever-evolving) list of the many titles of mr. henley whispers

because Henry Shields is a genius and all of this deserves to be documented

Henley Whispers

aka the Turbulent Wind

aka the Storm Before the Calm

aka Lithe Spirit

aka Lord of the Prance

aka Bowfingerer

aka the Bark Knight

aka Work Hard Fae Hard

aka Coyote Handsome

aka Tree Weird

aka the Gorse Whisperer

aka the Arrow-ma Therapist

aka Aragorn-al Activity

aka Quiver Phoenix

aka Jack of All Trades, Master of All Trades

aka Tree Willy

aka Dave Fern

aka Soft-Core Faun-ography

aka Forest Whitaker

aka Notorious Tree-IG

aka Mr. Yumnus

aka Ranger Danger

aka Lust of Wind

aka Parry Hotter

aka Pollen Farrell

aka The Wood, The Bard and the Smugly

aka the Longest Bard

aka Daft Skunk

aka Brodo Swaggins

aka Dismay in a Ranger

aka Harriet Shrubman

aka Jeffrey Archer

aka Fen Diagram

aka Look Who’s Tolkien

aka Fennel May Care

aka the Grass Samurai

aka Chloro-Phil Spector

aka Woody Allen

aka Thelonius Trunk

aka the Moss Adjuster

aka See No Weevil

aka the Branch Manager

aka the Flower of Hotland

the ✨ rhymes ✨:

human ranger, damage dealer, story weaver, owl deceiver

human ranger, goblin killer, pale ale swiller, dream journal filler

human ranger, rabble rouser, full of heart, devoid of trouser

human ranger, hidden stranger, friend of danger, dark avenger

human ranger, expert juggler, against the chains which bind us struggler

human ranger, loot stringer, shameless swinger, on da funk bringer

human ranger, check bouncer, espresso mispronouncer

human ranger, rule flouter, truth spouter, earthworm doubter

human ranger, poker player, that which others won’t say sayer

human ranger, trendsetter, otter petter, in-joke getter

human ranger, blame dodger, advertising for a lodger

human ranger, cheeky chancer, always-on-the-off-beat dancer

human ranger, truth spinner, under-7s judo winner

human ranger, time waster, different brands of water taster

human ranger, hog roaster, subtle boaster, party ghoster

human ranger, crystal healer, your-layers-like-an-onion peeler

human ranger, hell raiser, into-the-abyss gazer

human ranger, lithe linguist, sensual astrologist

human ranger, bugbear wrestler, established-societal-norm questioner

human ranger, tune hummer, every-known-fear overcomer

human ranger, knowledge gleaner, has the grass that’s always greener

human ranger, deer consumer, vole beguiler, badger groomer

human ranger, havoc wreaker, noted after dinner speaker

human ranger, cattle roper, inter-species interloper

human ranger, prey pouncer, fearless fighter, local counselor

deer stalker, fox glover, the one you’re with lover

black run skier, caged bird freer, the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world be-er

human ranger, eldritch blaster, surreptitious podcaster

human ranger, villain injurer, power broker, serial milliner

human ranger, wild reaver, what-a-tangled-web-we-weaver

human ranger, seed sower, flower goer, the-distance goer

human ranger, head turner, butter churner, bridge burner

human ranger, shameless liar, rule defier, hair dyer

human ranger, misbehav-er, always-against-the-grain shaver

human ranger, beast enrager, strong orator, up-upstager

human ranger, owlbear slayer, soothsayer, the-field player

human ranger, quick-quip punner, villain stunner, long-con runner

human ranger, heedless cur, own-job-interview saboteur

human ranger, of-wind guster, no-one truster, goat buster

human ranger, slightly odd, wistful, winsome beetle god

human ranger, well-worn traveler, yarn spinner, peascods gatherer

human ranger, daring dazzler, risk taker, mystery raveler

TRUE FACTS ABOUT HENLEY:

he believes that any bird singing in the forest is doing it specifically for him (and birds don’t sing when he’s not there)

he trims his pubic hair into the word “shazam”

he keeps a dream journal (but if he has a nightmare, he ignores it and makes up something nice)

he writes really bad poetry (short, broken sentences, “rupi kaur style”)

he’s been using Ghoul’s Gruel as anti-aging cream (it doesn’t work)

his spirit animal is himself

he pronounces espresso like “ethpretho”

he has a bad feeling about worms in general

he howls at the moon

he pretends to understand all inside jokes

he’s very concerned about the mortgage repayments on his house

he always dances on the off beat in order to stand out in the club

he’s the reigning champion of the under-7s judo competition in his local area

he can tell the difference between brands of water (and he has very strong opinions about them)

he leaves parties without telling people and then comes back in disguise to talk about the fact that he left

he uses healing crystals

he gazes into the abyss until it gazes back because he wants the attention

he uses “sensual astrology” to try and seduce people

he has every known fear (the exposure therapy backfired)

he shaves (against the grain) with a sword (your hair doesn’t grow in hell. he does it anyway.)

he always has the greenest grass (he steals any grass he sees that’s greener than his own)

he runs a grooming business for badgers (“what does he get in return from the badgers?” “…friends”)

he’s an accomplished after-dinner speaker

he tried to hibernate with badgers and they kicked him out

he majored in drawing in sand with sticks

he’s a bed wetter

he always bets all in when playing poker

he is a leading member of the “pithy council” (it’s just him and a ferret getting together to recite pithy sayings)

he will love the one YOU’RE with (aka sleep with your wife)

when someone asks him a difficult question, he turns and runs

he thinks he’s been leaving episodes of a podcast called “whispers on the air” in various rocks and twigs on their journey, but he doesn’t have the spell for it so he’s just been talking to inanimate objects

he has an unhealthy obsession with hats

he sleeps in a web

he invented a kind of long distance running called long distance fleeing (26 miles = safety)

he burns every bridge he crosses

henley (a natural blonde) dyes his hair blonde (his natural hair color) so people will think he has grays because he’s older and more mature than he really is

he must always be upstaging someone

he has an inexplicable hatred of goats and, similarly, an inexplicable love of sea turtles

he has been acting as the god for a family of beetles (he can give you seed)

#hell or high rollers #hohr #henley whispers #dnd #henry shields #he’s such a mess i love him so much

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