#resistant and fog-touched especially

[thelonelyshore-if]

I hope you don't mind me asking this. And hopefully you haven't been asked this yet. What do the powers like exactly do?

Hey Nonnie!! Hope you're doing well c:

I don't mind you asking at all! The best breakdown I have rn without getting into spoiler territory can be found here. This is a fairly common question, though, so I'll give you a brief description of what each magic type is.

Monstrous- inhanced speed/strength/senses, physical transformation.

Fog-Touched- minor reality bending, communication with the Fog.

Necromancy- raising/controlling the dead, speaking to ghosts and other spirits

Clairvoyance- seeing the future, both short-term and long-term.

Resistant- hardest to define; it changes. Big bursts of power/energy are common.

[holybibly]

𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 | San x reader

Pairing: Wolf cub San x Bunny reader

Summary: A wolf's hunger is unquenchable, especially with the heat approaching. And as it happens, you look too appetising in the mornings to resist tempting them to taste you.

Part of a series "𝔙𝔢𝔫𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔉𝔲𝔯𝔰" in the Pretty Flushed universe.

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, hybrids!Au

Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, сorruption kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, rough oral, praise kink, squirting and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet

A|N: All right, bunnies, are you all ready for the official introduction of our wolf pups? Well, here I am. And with me, a hot and hungry wolfie San who wants to taste you first thing in the morning.

Your mommy is back, bunnies and I'm lustier and more vicious than ever.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64

Through a heavy haze of sleep, you feel a long, rough tongue sliding lazily across your warm pink pussy, leaving a wet trail of viscous saliva in its wake. A light touch to your clit causes your pretty doll mouth to open, and a languid sigh escapes your lungs, eventually turning into a pitiful, whimpering moan. Your eyes move quickly beneath your closed eyelids, long, downy lashes fluttering. Unconsciously, your hips arch forward in search of more of that delicious sensation. 

"Bunny..." That one nickname sets the viscous, sweet moisture gushing from your vagina in abundance, filling the entire space of the luxurious bedroom with the rich scent of peaches and cream. Insistent, rough fingers slide over your moist mound, and your delicate, silky folds slip beautifully around them, so that the pointed tip of his tongue can just feel the edge of your oozing hole. Hot, intermittent, fever-like breath flows around your cunt before the plump lips leave a messy, open-mouthed kiss on your labia. "Wake up, my sweet girl. I want to play with you, Princess." The sound of the Alpha's voice is like warm, melted honey in your ears. 

The thick scent of black orchids and powder, mixed with the sweetness of Alpha pheromones, wraps around you, embedding itself in your skin and settling in your lungs with every intermittent breath. 

Even when you're half asleep, your submissive bunny nature sends signals of obedience throughout your body, forcing you to obey every command of the more dominant and powerful species. You don't want to provoke the predator at all, especially when he's got you in his strong, clawed hands. Your plump, cottony tail flicks up, and your long ears - limp, and soft - press uselessly against your head. Your small hand hesitantly reaches for the source of overwhelming pleasure, now even more obvious and palpable as consciousness begins to return to you, and you blink absentmindedly, chasing the sleep from your eyes. It takes a few minutes for your tiny, pheromone-fogged brain to comprehend what is happening and analyze the situation, and now the painful excitement that flows through your veins like thick, viscous honey finally makes sense—long, silky hair, soft, pointed ears with fluffy tassels at the ends — San. 

As your little sugar fingers dig into the Alpha's thick, wavy curls and your nails lightly brush the sensitive base of his ears, San lifts his sharp feline eyes to you—heavy and half-lidded with lust. Those eyes, almost inhuman in their intensity, shine in the darkness of the bedroom. Your skin tingles at the intensity of the gaze, and you squeak softly, covering your eyes and feeling a scalding scarlet blush spread across your rounded, plump cheeks and pale neck. Even after months of living in their house, you still can't shake the feeling of embarrassment and humiliation that comes over you every time one of the wolves touches you. 

Pleased that you're finally awake and able to give him your full attention, San velvety purrs, never takes his beautiful mouth away from your plump, luscious cunt. His deft tongue flicks along your slit, skilfully playing with your throbbing clit before his beautiful, devilishly curved lips engulf it, pulling it into his warm, craving mouth and beginning to suck slowly as the sharp tip of his sinful tongue penetrates your tight hole, stimulating your silky walls and licking up every drop of your sweet, creamy mucus. The soft taste of peaches is saccharine in his mouth, as San is tasting the most desirable treat on the planet—your fertile ripeness. 

A new wave of lust sweeps over your body, leaving you feverish and helpless with the desire for more. The Alpha's mouth encircles around your sensitive nub, lightly grazing it with his sharp fangs before his slippery, rough tongue begins to aggressively massage you in circles; his hot, sultry lips devouring your pussy with a deep, animal hunger. You're trembling all over; crystal-clear tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the sensations, and you squeal out loud, unable to contain yourself. 

"Ah-alpha, that feels so good." Your fingers get tangled in the thick mass of wavy hair between his pointed ears, which are twitching slightly, picking up on every little sound that you are making. You're so wet that mucus is falling from you like a waterfall, filling the room with the rich, sweet, creamy scent. You continue to sob and whimper, sending shivers of excitement through alpha's body as his thick, fluffy tail slowly swings behind his back. His jaw opens and closes relentlessly as he alternates between messy movements and lazy and lingering ones, just to drive you crazy with the contrast of sensations as he savours your cunt. 

As his tongue presses flat against the quivering, glistening folds of your cunt, your hips begin to tremble, and your heel kicks into the silk sheet on the bed, causing it to crumple into a heap. San growls in a menacing manner and digs his claws into the plump, soft flesh of your thigh to hold you in place. 

"Don't fucking move, bunny, or do you want me to bite you? Does the princess like pain? You are such a slut." For a second, San pulls his wet, swollen mouth away from your pussy, only to growl at you. You recoil in horror at the hidden threat in the husky, sultry tone of his voice. Your little fluffy tail quivers as the sharp tips of his fangs graze your delicate, sensitive folds with every word he utters. A reminder that no matter how well the wolves treat you, showering you with gifts and praise, they are still big and dangerous predators, especially for a gentle bunny like you.

"P-please forgive me. I'll be an obedient bunny, I promise. San, I will be a good, obedient princess for you." Your voice is a barely audible whisper, but you have no doubt that he heard you. 

San responds with a low, satisfied growl as he continues to poke his tongue mercilessly into your swollen, tingling clit. Every nerve in your body is vibrating and tingling as he does it over and over and over again. You're so hot, so sticky, and so wet, and every movement of the Alpha's beautiful mouth causes more and more mucus to spill out of your little hole. Your juices run down his chin and down his neck, dripping onto the luxurious silk sheets that lie beneath you. 

San's hands slide down your legs, his sharp claws leaving fierce, blood-red marks on your pale skin, until he throws your legs over his hard, broad shoulders and continues to eat you as if his life depended on it. The muscles in your legs and thighs stretch, and you feel so open, so vulnerable, and exposed to this beautiful, devilishly handsome Alpha, who reminds you more of a big wildcat than a wolf. 

Awakenings like this morning were nothing new for you, especially in the last few weeks when the younger alphas started to warm up before their inexorably approaching heat. Despite Seonghwa's strict orders not to touch you without his or Hongjoong's supervision, everyone in the house still remembered the incident with Wooyoung a few months back, when your mommy and daddy had left you alone with the fascinatingly beautiful, crystal-blue-eyed Alpha. Almost every morning you awoke with one of the wolves cubs pressing their hot bodies against you in the bed. 

Each of them had their own favourite way of waking you up, but most of the time it was down to their long tongues licking your little pussy insistently or their long clawed fingers slowly stretching your tight hole until you started to squeal and squirt. The number of hopelessly ruined sheets that Seonghwa had to throw away after all that was just too numerous to count. And something told you that those beautiful deep-burgundy sheets would suffer the same fate after San was done with you. 

San moans loudly and shamelessly as he buries his face deeper and deeper into your pussy, greedily lapping up the thick, honey-coloured goo from your quivering hole. And he obviously won't stop until you've squirted your delicious cum all over his face. And the devilishly handsome Alpha lets you know it by the way his tongue begins to rub against your silky folds in a rhythm that is too fast for you and almost painful for you. 

"Ah, a-alpha, this is too much...please be gentle." You whimper loudly as you feel his lips squeeze your clit tightly and suck hard on it before releasing it from his sensual grasp with a loud 'pop'. 

"Gentle..." San growls as he sends waves of pleasure through your body with his sinful tongue and hot breath. His hands tighten their grip on your hips, pulling you even closer to his beautiful, predatory face. His slanted feline eyes are practically all black—glistening irises that flash with molten gold as he catches a glimpse of your wide-open eyes, the fat tears already beginning to gather in the corners of them. You look so fucked up already, and it's beautiful. Even if he can't fuck you properly yet, he'll do his best to make sure that every time he touches you, you'll have memories of it.

A pitiful sob escapes from your doll-like lips at the burning intensity of his dark gaze, and a shiver of fear, mixed with excitement, runs down the length of your spine. 

"You want me to be gentle..." He repeats again, almost imperceptibly sliding the tip of his tongue over your soft folds before you feel the slight vibration of his husky laugh against the damp skin of your pussy. "I'm not your mommy to be gentle with you, my darling." The Alpha gives a deep growl before he presses his mouth back down to your cunt with even more hunger and aggression than he did a few minutes ago. San hammers away at you with such fervour and greed, as if all he wants to do in this life is savour the taste of you and eat your tender pussy until you start to sob and beg him to stop. 

San tells himself that this insatiable hunger, this dark desire inside him, has nothing to do with the sharp, poisonous jealousy that eats away at him from the inside like acid every time he hears you moaning or begging for Seonghwa or Hongjoong when they fuck you into the mattress for hours. And of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that his teeth literally ache from the need to sink into your sweet, soft flesh and mark you as his property, his mate. The sight of the swollen, inflamed marks of the Seonghwa's claim on your fragile neck only fuels this animalistic need to breed and mate you even more. 

"Please Alpha..." You sob, hot tears rolling down the round, pink cheeks of your face. You can't even think; a throbbing need is overwhelming you, completely taking over the rational part of your brain. 

The Alpha growls viciously, sucking and licking your clit, all the while moving his tongue and making a foul noise. Your hips begin to move smoothly, following every movement of San's lips and tongue. It is as if you are having sex with his sensual mouth. You literally smother him as you wrap your legs around his head, burying his handsome face between your soft thighs, but judging by the purring moans and growing growls, he doesn't care if he loses his last breath, engulfed by the heat of your body as his mouth sucks your juicy, plump cunt. 

"S-san..." Your voice is almost drowned out by his moan as the first letters of his name fly off your tongue with a choked-out scream. I'm too sensitive..." You are still too swollen, too sensitive to his touch and his sinful tongue after a hard night with Seonghwa, and waves of bliss wash over you too quickly, too suddenly, bringing you to climax without warning. Your whole body trembles in his tight grip, your fingers clinging to his hair, trying to hold his head between your thighs or push his face away from your sensitive, throbbing core. 

San is holding you too tightly with his strong hands, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, and drinking all the liquid that is pouring out of you uncontrollably, leaving the smooth, creamy taste of peaches on his tongue. "Ah! Too much, too much! Alpha..." You scream, but San still won't let you go. He swallows noisily, prolonging your orgasm and lapping up your juices as if he were dying of thirst and you were the only source that could satisfy him. 

San is practically intoxicated by the sight of you right now, his pretty little bunny all flushed and sweaty, crying and begging. You're begging him—San, not Seonghwa or Hongjoong, just him. 

The constant stream of "please" and "alpha," mixed with the soft ecstatic moaning of his name, drives San mad. He has you right where he wants you, and he will fuck you with his tongue until you're unconscious with bliss, and San loves it so damn much. 

"Oh God!" Your voice trails away, high and whimpering. "I'm so close, Alpha! San!"

"Mine!" He growls; his voice is completely different from a human's; it sounds much deeper and more ferocious; and it makes every part of your body vibrate. You can feel a stream of wet flowing out of you, forming a huge puddle of sticky goo on the sheets beneath you. 

Your head throws back, your back arching, and your hips lifting, pressing harder against the Alpha's face as the feathery movements of his tongue and the vicious sucking of his hot mouth send you into pure ecstasy, the overwhelming sensation of repeated orgasm coursing through your bones and nerve endings. You repeat his name over and over, basking in your delicious bliss as he drinks your cum down to the last drop, which you drown him in—the luscious goo splashing all over his face and the sheets—until San helps you to come down from your high with light, airy kisses around your swollen labia. 

"There you are, bunny. Look at you, my princess; you have done so well. You are so sweet on the tip of my tongue—sweeter than honey or ambrosia. I am going to eat you up until your screams reach the heavens."

You're still trembling, the residual spasms of orgasm still coursing through your body, tingling on every inch of your skin, making your legs shake and your hips squirm as you try to free yourself from his grip. You're too sensitive, so much so that it's almost painful. 

Your eyes flutter open, heavy and swollen with tears, and you meet the dark gaze that is fixed on your face. His lips are still hidden between your thighs, and you feel his weightless kisses around your folds. San gives you a smug smile as his kisses move down your thighs, causing a slight tingling sensation on your skin. 

"I'm not finished with you yet." The Alpha purrs as he releases your hips and crawls up your body. He leaves kisses all over your wet, flushed skin as his gorgeous face hangs over your plump tits. San runs his tongue over each of your swollen, slightly damp nipples, wet from the milk that has come out, before moving up higher and lightly biting the skin on the side of your neck. You whimper in between intermittent sighs, completely softened up by the intense orgasm that you can still feel at the very bottom of your belly. San bends down to your face and takes your plump, soft lips in a deep kiss. He grins as he pulls away from you to look at the fragile, delicate body that lies beneath him. 

As you look at his scarlet, swollen lips, glistening with your slime, your slutty bunny nature obligingly brings back the image of him tongue-fucking you. The memory causes your body to react in an almost instantaneous fashion, with a fresh batch of slime spurting out of your quivering hole. A thick wave of alpha pheromones fills the air, and you swallow hard in shame, knowing you'll never be able to hide your excitement, especially when his fingertips feel the wetness trickling between the silky folds of your pussy. 

San smiles devilishly as he slides his long fingers along your soft petal-like folds, more and more of your sweet nectar oozing from you, coating his fingers. These feathery touches are enough to make you tremble in his arms once more. You almost curse your treacherous bunny nature, that it is so easy for him to turn you into putty just by touching you. 

"A-alpha, I can't take it anymore. Please..." You sob as you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

He leans close to your ear, his hot breath brushing the sensitive skin of your earlobe and sending a tingling sensation through your body. 

"Oh bunny, I know you can give me so much more because you are such a slut, aren't you?" His fingers continue to move at an excruciatingly slow pace, and your consciousness begins to fade as a new wave of pleasure washes over you. "Come on, fluffy, do the begging for me. Beg me to fill you up with my cock; beg me to breed you like a good thoroughbred bitch. Beg me to fill you with my sperm, my princess." You shudder as San's fingers push your plump pink folds apart, and he slides two long fingers inside of you. "We have all day, and I won't stop until you can't think about anything other than me."

[soulofapatrick]

Loves Antidote - Derek Hale x Reader

Summary: You were affected more than the others in the crypt during the events of ‘Weaponised’

Words: 1.2k 

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I can hear Scott moving after Kira tells him what Stiles’ muffled voice yells. He’s reaching for the jar and moments later there’s a crash, I’m gasping for air, feeling like I can breathe finally. My vision is returning and my muscles are finally reacting to me but it’s slower than the others who are already up and on their feet, Malia by my side as she has to pull me to my feet while Scott gets the door open. 

I’m clinging to her, my legs struggling to move and Stiles is suddenly on my other side, the pair of them helping me regain the strength to stumble forwards with my weight being held by them. They’re leading me down the empty hallways of the high school, towards the exit where I can hear myriads of people talking, yelling and preparing for our exit. I know dad’s gonna be out there, Stiles knows he is too, as he’s the sheriff but I’m resisting as I don’t want him to see me like this. He has enough on his plate. 

“Y/N, please, you need help.” Stiles is urging, voice filled with concern. His grip around my ribs tightening, determination shining through his wide and worried eyes as I lull my head in his direction. I can hear Scott and Kira trying to find the others, checking on teachers and students alike while Stiles and Malia want to get me to Melissa who I can hear bustling about outside. I can hear dad too and there’s another voice. It sends my heart pounding and Malia is sending me a concerned look as she can hear how fast my heart is beating. 

I try to push the pain aside and focus on that voice, knowing he’s just outside. I want to get to him before I even think about Melissa and getting help. I need him. Together, the three of us stagger through the double doors, the taste of freedom so sweet and the sun temporarily blinds me but I can smell him. Three voices call my name: Dad, Melissa and him. The strange mixture of musk, something slightly spicy like oranges and vanilla fills my senses as my eyes try to adjust to the blinding brightness. My knees are giving in and I’m falling until the pair get a better grip on me. 

The sound of pounding feet feel like gunshots in my head but the scent of him coming closer and closer spurs me on, giving me the strength to push Stiles and Malia away. My already aching body collides with solid and strong arms are wrapping around me, the smell of him is almost overwhelming it’s so intoxicating. The cool and smooth leather of his jacket against my skin is a stark contrast to the feverish heat pulsating through my body. 

“Derek.” My voice cracks and sounds raw even to my own ears, Derek’s arms tightening protectively around me. The emotions radiating from him prickle my eyes and before I know it I’m burying my face in his shirt, trying to staunch the onslaught of tears. 

���Shhhh, it’s okay sweetheart,” Derek’s voice soothes, a gentle balm to my shattered nerves, his words washing over me like a healing salve. His arms providing a haven of safety and comfort as I cling to him like a lifeline, seeking solace in his unwavering presence. His lips pressing against my temple calms me even more, a tender kiss that ignites a flicker of hope within me. I can feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his breath against my skin, and it’s as if the world narrows down to this single point of connection. 

As his hand moves in slow, gentle strokes, shooting down my hair, a sense of tranquility washes over me. It’s as if he’s leaving a sense of calm back into the frayed edges of my being, the tremors in my legs begin to subside and the fog surrounding my mind begins to dissipate. The ache and pain is still there and I still feel weak, like I’m going to collapse if Derek lets me go but I know he won’t, especially when the hand that was on my hair moves to cup my jaw, pad of his thumb gliding across my cheekbone gently, a surge of warmth and reassurance following it. 

I’m pushing myself away enough to meet those kaleidoscope eyes, seeing the depth of his concern and care reflected in them. It’s a silent understanding that passes between us, a recognition of the need for me to heal and the inability for my body to do it. And as his thumb continues its soothing motion, I feel that spark of hope ignited within me grow into a flame or two. 

Then, as if guided by an unspoken agreement, Derek is drawing me up into a kiss - a gentle and tender meeting of our lips. It’s a moment that transcends words, the kiss a conduit for my healing and I feel it. With each press of our lips, I can feel the ache slowly fading and my legs stand steadier, the weariness that had taken over my body replaced by something else. It’s sweet on my tongue as Derek’s arm around my waist pulls me closer and the one of my cheek tilts my head to deepen the kiss more. 

Our breaths mingle, a symphony of shared exhales that carry the weight of something new and something good. It’s in the event meeting of our mouths that I find solace, a sanctuary where healing takes root and blooms. The sensation of his lips moving against mine is electrifying and breathtaking all at once. 

Someone is clearing their throat, startling me and pulling me away from Derek, my eyes flickering open to find Dad standing there, a mixture of sternness and amusement playing across his features. While his words carry a reprimand, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that betrays his true feelings. The corners of my lips curling into a sheepish smile, and Derek’s arm remains securely around my waist.

“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough,” Dad asserts, his voice firm but indeed with an undertone of lightheartedness, “Those healing vein things have gone, none of that in front of me thank you.” 

I can’t help but let out a small chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection for Dad’s protectiveness. With a gentle squeeze of Derek’s hand, I start to disentangle myself from his embrace, though the warmth of his touch still lingers on my skin. Derek lets out a growl deep in his throat when Stiles moves towards me, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red as he clears his throat and squeaks out an embarrassed, “Sorry.” 

“Derek,” Dad turns his attention to the very embarrassed werewolf, “I want you to take her home and make sure she is okay. You do not leave her side until either Jordan or I come home, I want nothing like this to happen again.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good lad.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Teen Wolf Masterlist

TAGS: Tag List Form

@bellabadacadabra

[moon7jay]

Okay- I kinda need you to elaborate more on Jay wanting to have a chubby girlfriend cause HNGGGG I LOVE THAT THOUGHG SO MUCH! Please 🙏🥺

ofc anon<33

You would literally be his comfort person. everytime he's stressed he needs your body close to grope and feel. Especially your boobs. Expect them to be used as de stressing balls :>

loves to spoil u with dresses. He knows your exact measurements without ever measuring u and that's something u love about him , he just knows things about u and ur body without explicit explanation.

"fucked u so many times, got u measured with the span of my palms"

Almost always ends up fucking u in the changing room of the stores he takes u to cuz you're just too hot to resist, the way the dress looks on your curves has him straining in his pants

The type to say "you're my warm up weight baby" when u try to talk your way out of sitting on his lap or face. Manhandles u in all sorts of positions to prove his point

Obsessed with smacking your ample curves. Just expect to be smacked and groped everytime u pass by him or are in his vicinity. Smirks shamelessly when u glare at him looking adorable as fuck (his words not mine)

Also expect to get scolded if u ever bring up ur insecurities cuz he's not having it.

"You're just a little more for me to fuck, in all the right places, it drives me fucking crazy"

The type to squeeze and kiss your tummy while fucking u, just loves groping your soft flesh so much. It gets him hot and heavy in his pants at the sweet noises u make for him everytime he touches and gropes u like a pervert. He IS a pervert. Asks u to squeeze your boobs together and show him when he's away from u and wants to jerk off. Has pictures saved of your sinful body for the sole purpose of rutting into his hands like a horndog at the single thought of you.

The type to STARE. And not just stare stare, he OGLES. fucking u with his eyes before he's pressing himself against your naked body, fucking into u with his throbbing dick. You'd be lying on your stomach, reading your book when suddenly u would look up and catch your boyfriend blatantly checking you out. Just staring shamelessly. You grab a pillow and throw it at him "JAY!"

loves fucking your boobs. Expect a lot of boob fucking cuz he just can't get enough of how hot the sight is.

Also the type to nibble on your body. Like nibble. Ppl are worried about hickies on neck, you on the other hand have to worry about the purple love bites all over your body. Most days u look like u have been mauled by an animal. U suppose it is true cuz jay's nothing short of an animal when it comes to u in bed. Just biting and sucking every inch of your exposed flesh that is within his reach.

He NEVER fucks u with clothes on. NEVER. He needs to be pressed skin to skin against u, flesh rubbing against flesh is a must for him for him to be satisfied. Needs your naked soft body rubbing against his own, needs it more than he needs air. That's why loves shower sex. Just wet and naked lust, steamy sex fogging up the glass doors, hot slippery bodies gliding against each other, chasing carnal pleasure.

LOVES munching on your cheeks, biting and nibbling on them randomly. Especially during make outs, thinks you're adorable as fuck and it makes him want to eat u more. Does eat u literally. Tongue buried in your pussy, head buried between your thick thighs, fingers kneading your ass while he's at it

"so adorably pretty ,makes me wanna take a bite out of u baby"

Never stops complimenting u. Never stops reminding u that you're his everything. Doesn't ever let u go on diets

"I don't wanna lose even a little bit of u"

Also please let him cook for u, nothing makes him more happier than cooking for u. he is so in love with u, he would give u the world if u just asked for it.

a/n: I'm so mad there's only one Jay in this world like how is that fair

[mo0nfairy]

Any chance of some nsfw with guard puppy leon pls? 👉👈 I love the way u write him sm😩😳

tw :: nsfw themes (mdni!!), re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, sub!leon, masochism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, leon being infected for like 2 seconds, (also no specification of reader's gender/genitalia).

⸺ ya'll.................. you can't drop shit like this in my inbox and not expect me to go feral. (i am also legally obligated to use this gif cause how can i resist).

let's say it's right after the events of re4. you and leon had spent an eternity dodging every kind of abomination known to mankind before you finally made it to safety. the government then took you in to study the effects the plaga parasite had on humans. however, leon was infected while you weren't, meaning the two of you would have to be temporarily separated. and fuck, being away from you kills leon with need. he just has to get his hands on you. and when his head gets fogged up with all sorts of disastrous scenarios (all involving you hurting in some shape or form), leon busts open the lock to his room and sets out on finding you. practically tearing the place asunder in his efforts, he finally locates you in a completely separate wing.

how fucking dare they take you so far from him? what if something happened? what if he can't be there to protect you-!?

his train of thought is abruptly cut off when he enters the room and finds you, entirely naked. there are several doctors around you, poking and prodding at you like a lab rat. leon literally just !!!!!!!!! at the sight, but is also >:( because of all these people putting their filthy hands on you. he is enraged at the people for touching you, but he also can't tame his heart after seeing your bare skin. he leaves to his room with his tail between his legs and his face adorned in red blotches. and poor leon hasn't been granted a single second alone to relieve himself, not with all these scientists and security guards surrounding him 24/7. (he got a little aggressive with staff when he had to seperate from you).

and being unable to relieve himself before he can see you and drown you in his obsession is destroying him. especially when he learns you've been moved to a safehouse all the way across the country, all while he has to stay in this hospital without you. he isn’t sleeping, he lost his appetite, and his body temperature has increased to a worrisome degree. the doctors even put down ‘hypersexual’ as one of his symptoms. and just a week later, leon is still distraught, but is all healed up. his mood brightens, however, when he learns he is being sent to the same undisclosed location. finally, he gets to be alone with you. and god, he is desperate.

practically tearing the front door off its hinges, leon searches for you through the house like a goddamn serial killer. and when he finds you, he goes feral. you don't have a second to even acknowledge the second presence in the house before he is all over you. one second you're minding your business and the next you're practically being smothered to death. on the counter, on the bed, hell, on the floor, leon doesn't give a shit where. as long as he’s able to ensure no inch on your body goes untouched.

leon tears your clothes off like a predator tearing apart the flesh of its prey. his calloused hands touch everywhere he can with almost religious fervor. good god, has leon ached for this. he's constantly losing air from latching his mouth all over you. he'll pull back a good centimeter, wait maybe a picosecond to catch his breath, before indulging in you again. and sidenote, he's a virgin (fight me abt it). sweet, innocent leon is so inexperienced but tries so. fucking. hard. all you have to do is sit back and guide him. every syllable out of your mouth is gospel to him, after all.

while his tongue is practically shoved down your throat, you bite down on the squirming muscle and it's just....…. instant subspace. his eyebrows scrunch upwards and he's moaning like a bitch into your mouth. his entire life, leon has endured so much pain, (especially right after the events of re4). but to hurt at your hand, knowing he is still safe with you? it is like heaven and hell in the same breath. so please, hurt him, bite him, rip out his fucking throat with your teeth if you want- just fucking do anything to him!

and leon is so distracted by you, he doesn't even realize how devastating he looks. his cheeks are as red as two ripe cherries; his eyes are wet with infatuation, brimming with tears. and downstairs, the vulgar sight displays a good 8 inches erect, on the skinny side with veins protruding the straight, pink shaft. his tip flushes an angry red and is overwhelmed with precum. you gently take it into your hand and caress the white-pearl with your thumb. and leon's voice literally raises several octaves in such an obscene manner, you wonder how he'll react when he's finally inside of you. but for now, your mere hands on him has turned him into a completely different person.

you guide his bloated head to your entrance and rub it into the surrounding skin, now slick with your spit and his precum. leon's entire body is shaking; his chest is flat from holding his breath in anticipation. 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-' his chants huff against your face while his gaze is casted downwards, trembling from the sight alone. you could keep him here if you wanted, torture him even more. mock his whining while his swollen head is practically begging you to let him in and end this agony. but, he's just too damn cute. so, you give your poor puppy what he so desperately wants and push him into your soaked hole with ease. and the cry leon lets out is nothing short of pornographic.

"y-y/n/n-! oh, jesus, sh-shit-... uhn-!" his forehead is pressed against yours as he moans out for you.

when leon finally bottoms out inside, you let your spongy, sopping walls adjust to the length of his dick and try to calm him down (to no avail, unfortunately). he's too caught up in tripping over his words, attempting to verbalize the adrenaline coursing through him from just how amazing you feel and how soul-crushingly good it will be when he finishes. leon hasn't even started moving yet and he's already overwhelmingly drunk on pleasure.

you then push down on his lower back, giving him permission to begin moving. and the man leon becomes is that of a creature possessed. there is not a single moment spent being gentle, he is rutting into your thick heat like his life depends on it. he buries his face into your neck and everything just becomes so messy. your hot, hyperventilating breaths paint the air and your bodies are sheen with sweat as they stick together. his hands are locked around you like a lifeline, clinging so tightly to you as if he were hanging from a cliffside and you were his saving grace. (this is him basically). with his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, his jaw hung low with uncontrollable moans — god, you make him so fucking stupid.

'hmy- my fuckin’ god- y/n/n, i-... 'm-your- your stupid mutt, your dumb puppy... fuck, s’fuckin’ good, s’fuckin' perfect." you're not even exactly sure what leon is saying, with his voice muffled against your neck. but, when his voice is so whiny and slurred like that, you can only imagine how adorably pathetic the words that follow are.

drool seeps down his chin and pools in the nape of your shoulder. his mouth is all over your neck like a vampire, lazily kissing and marking your skin. with how overwhelmingly intense the euphoria is, he knows that one glance at your godly face and body will send him over the edge. so, he keeps his face nestled away. fortunately for him, however, you're not far behind from finishing. every vigorous thrust of his plunges deep into you, causing your body to jolt forward from the sheer force.

you grasp hold of leon's hand, causing his heart to practically explode in his chest, before guiding him on how to stimulate you. his hands rub against your sex with fervent, clumsy haste. and before you can even blink, your orgasm hits you like a wave. it is unexpected and unbelievably intense. every sound from your mouth causes leon’s dick to twitch inside of you, pushing him closer and closer to that earth-shattering finish. he is now full-on crying, his lewd sobs and pleads reverberating from the grip your body has on him. in the cusp of your high, you grab a fistful of leon's blonde hair and pull his head back.

you growl in his ear, "you're my bitch in heat."

and with that, leon gushes inside of you. a deafening wail permeates the room as he sporadically thrusts his hips against yours with bruising force. he practically bleats like a sheep as he cums and anyone lurking outside would probably think you were murdering him. leon fills you to the brim with his seed, the excess escaping past your entrance and staining the surface beneath. his vision goes white, his body shivers with rapture, and his mind is devoid of any thoughts beside you, you, you. the act of intimacy, to revel in your pleasure — oh, it is heaven. leon knew it was gonna be good, but never this fucking good.

every muscle in his body then goes limp against you. quiet whimpers pervade the air as he presses sloppy, soft kisses against your lips. chants of 'i love you, i love you so fucking much' escape his breathless mouth. and the look in his honeyed gaze... he is just so fucking happy to be back with the only person he could ever love, the only person he could ever need. it's clear as day, leon couldn't be more in love with you. but, when you try and push him away for some room to breathe, his hold on you turns tenacious and you can feel how he is still rock-hard inside of you.

you realize that not only are you in for a long night, but you are in for a long, long life beside leon.

okay..... this is my first time writing smut. like ever. if it's shit, pls don't be afraid to send some critique my way!! thank u !

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 5)

Simon stands alone in his study, the soft glow of candlelight the only thing keeping him company. The servants of the house are well asleep, the rain and thunder outside providing a soothing lullaby. The flickering light casts long shadows across the room, highlighting his furrowed eyebrows. His mind is consumed with thoughts of the evening he spent with you not long ago at the ball, the memory of your touch lingering in his mind. 

But why?

You both have mutual contempt for one another.

Simon sighs out loud, admitting to himself that he was rude and presumptuous in his every interaction with you leading up to this point. It wasn’t fair to you for him to be so condescending, especially upon your initial introduction. He had overstepped his bounds time and time again, disregarding your autonomy and treating you despicably. The more he thinks about it, the more guilt he feels consuming his soul. It's a behavior unbecoming of a man of his station, let alone a Duke.

He recalls the sensation of holding you in his arms, guiding you through the steps of the dance. Your face appears, beautiful and doe-eyed. The memory of your touch, the way your hand had fit so perfectly in his as you danced together, haunts him. Confusion gnaws at his heart, mingling with a sense of longing that he struggles to understand.

He had never been one to dwell on matters of the heart, always preferring the clarity of duty and discipline. But ever since that night, he finds himself haunted by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memory of your fiery spirit and unwavering resolve. He knew that he should resist the pull of his emotions, that he should keep his distance and maintain the facade of indifference that had served him so well in the past.

Simon paces restlessly across the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the moonlight. He can't help but question the nature of his feelings. Why does he feel this undeniable pull towards you, despite the animosity that had characterized your every interaction in the past?

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration building within him. It's absurd, uncalled for, he tells himself. He has no place in your world, no right to entertain thoughts of romance or longing. He's an ex-soldier turned Duke, duty-bound and disciplined, while you are a lady of society, born and bred. 

And yet, despite the vast divide that separates you and him, Simon can’t help but yearn for something more. He finds himself drawn to your spirit, captivated by your character. He stops by the window and glances outside, watching rivulets of raindrops trickle down the glass. 

He knows that he should put an end to these foolish thoughts, that he should focus on matters of state and leave behind any notion of romantic entanglements. And yet, try as he might, he can't shake the image of you from his mind.

As Simon grapples with his conflicting emotions, restlessness settles over him like a thick fog. He can't just forget the way you had stirred something within him, awakening feelings he had thought dormant. It's a disconcerting realization, one that leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way he has never experienced before.

What are you doing to him?

With a heavy sigh, Simon sinks into the nearest chair, his thoughts swirling. He knew he had to mend his relationship with you, apologize to you, beg for your forgiveness until he could no longer stand under the weight of his guilt. But how could he even begin to approach you after the way he had treated you all this time? The dance at the ball was not enough to make up the damage he has done. He refuses to let his pride stand in the way of mending this. 

If he truly wants to make amends and seek redemption in your eyes, he must take action, no matter how daunting the prospect may be.

Lost in his thoughts, Simon’s gaze falls upon the box of stationery resting on his desk. With a start, Simon rises from his chair and strides purposefully towards his writing desk. He picks up his quill, the inkwell glistening in the candlelight, and begins to write. 

At first, the right words are difficult to come by. Each stroke of the quill feels heavy with the weight of his remorse, yet he presses on, determined to convey the depths of his regret. Slowly but surely, the words begin to flow, a heartfelt apology taking shape on the paper before him. 

He writes apologies of his wrongdoing, acknowledging the hurt he has caused and expressing his sincere desire to make amends. He doesn’t hold back, baring his very soul in a way he never thought he could. Every word is written with care, every sentence crafted with the hope of earning your forgiveness. 

Content with what he wrote, he seals the letter with wax and his crest. This letter may be a small gesture, but it is a step towards reconciliation. 

With the letter in hand, Simon stands, making his way through the corridors of his grand estate. Finally reaching the foyer, Simon pauses before the heavy oak door, his hand trembling slightly as he clutches the letter tightly. Outside, the rain continues to patter against the window panes. 

Summoning his courage, Simon steps out into the night, the cool raindrops soaking him to the core as he rides his steed to your residence. His heart rattles in his chest as your residence comes into view, undeterred by his goal. 

As he approaches your doorstep, Simon hesitates for moment; but he knows that he cannot turn back now, that he must face this head on. 

With a deep breath, Simon raises his hand and raps upon the door, the sound resonating into the halls of your home. For a moment, there is only silence, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

Then, the doors swing open, revealing a servant. 

“It’s urgent,” is all Simon says. 

With a polite nod, the servant gestures for Simon to enter, his expression a mix of curiosity and bewilderment at the Duke's unexpected visit at such an ungodly hour. Simon steps inside, the warmth of the foyer enveloping him like a comforting embrace after the chill of the rain.

As he removes his dripping coat and hands it to the waiting servant, Simon's heart pounds in his chest, his nerves frayed. His jaw set with determination, Simon follows the servant to the drawing room.

“Please, Your Grace, wait here.” 

Simon nods, then takes a seat on the couch. He doesn’t really care that he’s getting it wet; his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. Each passing moment feels like an eternity as he waits for your presence, his heart racing. 

Finally, the door opens, and you step into the room, just dressed in a nightgown and robe. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of a soaking wet Duke seated before you. The moment you step into the room, Simon shoots up from his seat, giving you a quick bow. 

“Your Grace,” you say, utterly confused. “Uh, to what do I owe the… pleasure of this unexpected visit? And in the middle of the night?

Simon’s gaze never leaves yours as he approaches you with measured steps. 

“You’re soaking wet,” is all you can manage to say when he is only a few paces away from you. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and you can see his dress shirt plastered to his defined chest underneath his jacket. Your eyes flit back up to his face. 

Simon halts in his approach. “Please, forgive the intrusion at this late hour, but I’ve come to speak with you, if you’ll allow me,” he begins, his voice gentle yet earnest. 

You regard him with suspicion and guarded interest, unsure of what to make of his unexpected visit. With a nod, you invite him to take a seat, your demeanor polite but guarded. Simon accepts your offer, settling himself into the chair opposite yours, the letter still clutched tightly in his hand. 

“I’ve… I’ve come to apologize,” he begins, his words measured and deliberate. “For the unkindness I have shown you, for the harsh words spoken in haste, for my arrogance and presumption. I… I realize now that I was mistaken, that I had no right to treat you with such disrespect and animosity. Please, my lady, please forgive me.” 

He extends the letter to you, the parchment slightly damp from the rain, the wax seal bearing his crest glistening in the soft light of the room. You take the letter cautiously, your fingers brushing against his freezing fingers as you do so.

Slowly, you unfold the letter, the sound of the parchment crackling in the silence of the room. Simon watches you intently, his breath caught in his throat as he waits for your response.

With each word you read, you feel a shift within you—a softening of the walls around your heart, a willingness to believe that Simon is truly apologetic. His words are, from what you can tell, sincere; each sentence bears the weight of his remorse. As you reach the end of the letter, you look up to find Simon watching you with bated breath, his expression a mix of hope and trepidation.

For a long moment, you say nothing, the silence stretching between you like a taut rope. You study him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is remorse shining in his eyes. Despite yourself, a flicker of something akin to hope stirs within you—the smallest glimmer of possibility that perhaps Mister Riley is not the cold-hearted Duke you believe him to be. And then, finally, you speak, your voice soft but steady.

"I accept your apology, Mister Riley,” you say, your words measured. "But, know that forgiveness is not easily earned, nor is trust quickly regained. I will give you a chance to prove yourself, but know that I will not tolerate any further disrespect or mistreatment.”

Simon's eyes widen in disbelief, gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will do everything in my power to make things right, to earn your trust and respect.”

With a nod, you hand the letter back to him. The journey toward forgiveness will not be easy, but for the first time, you allow yourself to believe that it might just be possible. And as Simon rises from his seat, a sense of hope blossoms within you—a hope that, perhaps, despite your history, there may yet be a more peaceful future worth fighting for.

part 4 < what was written in the letter? > part 6

[mountkennedie]

Siren

Prince Caspian x mermaid!reader

Summary: Caspian goes on a late night stroll and gets intercepted by a mermaid

warnings: none

The reader has long hair, other than that, there aren't any character descriptions

A.N. I have been thinking about this so much over the past few months omg

Being a prince, Caspian had many responsibilities. But being a human, he needs to escape from those duties from time to time. What seemed to calm his mind the best was a late night stroll on the coast of Cair Paravel.

Due to the full moon, the sands glitter in a way no gem could ever replicate. He thought the only thing that could compliment the beauty of the sparkling sands was the illuminated water. Just standing there, Caspian felt the stress lifting off his body. The salty sea air was always something he was a fan of. The feeling of its breeze through his hair only made the entire scene that much better.

There were some rocks along the coastline. He would normally not pay them any mind. However, when an unusual sound emitted from them, his head whipped around. His eyes scanned to find a pair looking back at him.

He drew his sword immediately, pointing it at the creature. "Who are you," he questioned. All sorts of things can exist in the lands of Narnia, and anything that would be out at such an hour is one of suspicion. Especially one that already had its eyes set on him.

The creature shied behind the rock. From a different angle, she peered back at him. The moonlight glazed her skin in an ethereal glow, and before the prince realized, he had taken a few steps towards her. "Call me, Y/n."

Her voice was smooth and soft. He felt himself begin to drift away in it. He took yet another step closer, now only a yard or two from the rock she hid behind. With grace and caution, she climbed the large stone until she reached the top. She rested on her forearms, now at eye level with the prince.

Caspian's eyes took in the new view of her. She wore nothing on her upper half, relying solely on her flowing hair to cover her frame. His breath began to shallow, never in his life had the prince seen a woman in such an ease of wardrobe. He used his extensive self-control to bring his focus back to her eyes. And her eyes were another pool to fall into. Everything about this mysterious woman was holding him captive, and he could not figure out why. Nor did he want to put up any resistance.

"And yours?" She spoke once again in a voice of velvet. He almost didn't register that she said anything at all.

"Hmm?" He hummed. In any other context, he knew it would be rude to simply hum instead of coming up with the words to say what he meant. But in this moment, his brain was taking on more and more fog with every second he was near her. He was not focused on being the well-mannered prince as he always was.

The woman smiled, "Your name, dear sailor."

"Oh, yes," his voice was breathy. The smile she provided him only worsened his condition. The fog in his mind had crept to the rest of his body. He hadn't even realized he was up against her rock. "Caspian. And I'm not a sailor, I'm a prince." Every word that he could conjure came spilling from his lips. He wanted her to speak again, smile again, anything. It was astonishing how quickly she had gotten him under her finger.

"A prince." She maintained her smile as she reached a hand out and touched his chest. "I would have thought as much. You wear the finest of leathers." Her hand stayed on his chest. And he made no effort to remove it.

He hummed again in response. He wore a smile on his face that proved how removed he was from sanity. She moved her hand up over his heart, his hand came and met her there. The warmth of his palm sealed her to him.

"Would you like to see the rest of me, dear prince?" She spoke in a whisper. He only nodded in response. She smiled once again and lifted her tail out of the water. She allowed herself to wrap a bit around the rock to make sure the moon made her scales shimmer.

He gasped, and she looked back at him. At first, I was nervous that she had scared him off. But he only stared. His eyes soon traveled back up to hers, and his pupils were completely blown. She knew she had him.

"You are most beautiful," his voice was airy. His breath steadied, and his eyes were trained on hers. With her other hand, she placed it on the right side of his face. He leaned into the touch and, for a moment, allowed his eyes to shut.

"As are you, dear prince."

How it happened was simple. She held onto him as she descended the rock. Held his hand from the shallow water, deeper and deeper. Until the water was too high for his feet to hit the bottom. And before she dragged him to the depths, an idea of mercy came to mind. He was a prince and a handsome one at that. Maybe something could brew between them. So she kissed him and filled his lungs with the new ability to no longer rely on air. Then, drug him down underneath the waves.

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (2/?)

Summary: A continuation of this (You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell). Now that Wanda has offered to share her room, things get... a bit complicated.

Chapter word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Wanda catches you in a very compromising position, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Series Masterlist

-

Sharing a room with Wanda Maximoff is not as trivial as it sounds.

The first night, her bed seems almost too big, especially for two people who don't know each other very well. Throughout the night, you’re acutely conscious of every movement, ensuring that you remain on your designated side, even if it means dangling one leg off the bed for balance.

On the second night, after realizing she'd unknowingly snuggled up to you during her sleep, she suggests putting a pillow in the middle–kind of like a boundary, you guess. The two of you share a light-hearted chuckle over the idea, yet a rosy hue stubbornly lingers on both your faces until one of you eventually heads out for breakfast.

Nights turn into mornings and that big bed starts feeling, well, not so big anymore. You both take to this pillow-in-the-middle setup, treating it like some sort of teddy bear you both have a claim to. It becomes an unspoken agreement, almost like a cozy buffer that you both secretly enjoy. Both of you would hold onto it, sometimes playfully tugging it toward your side.

On the seventh day, shortly after midnight, you feel a subtle shift as Wanda’s fingers, which were draped over the pillow, find their way to your waist. It's just a slight touch, but it sends your senses into overdrive. And as the fog of drowsiness lifts, you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you two.

The covers, which up until now felt just right, suddenly start to feel oppressively warm. Turning your head slightly, you can make out the silhouette of her face, bathed in the soft light filtering through the curtains. You're struck by the details—the curve of her cheek, the demure slope of her nose, her slightly parted lips. She's mesmerizing. You feel an undeniable urge to reach out and touch, to feel the softness of her skin, but you resist. 

You think about shifting her hand back onto the pillow, but then, there's this part of you, perhaps the bolder side, that wants it to stay there. So, you let it stay, taking shallow breaths, hoping your racing heart doesn't wake her up.

You pull the covers tighter around you, trying to shake the thoughts, but it's no use. 

All you can think about is the girl sleeping soundly beside you, and the night stretches on endlessly ahead.

-

You were supposed to get your own room, but honestly? It's taking a while, and you're not even sure you want it anymore.

There's something about Wanda's nighttime habits that you've come to love: the way she snores just a bit, the way some of her things would rattle around her when she’s having an intense dream, the scent of her shampoo when she washes her hair before bed, the subtle movements she makes when you know she has a hard time falling asleep. 

And there's that special moment each morning: You always seem to stir just moments before her. Like clockwork, her eyes flutter open, and in that half-awake daze, she’d murmur a “Good morning.” 

Yet, as this unexpected cohabitation with Wanda unfolds, a nagging thought keeps pricking at the back of your mind:

This delightful domestic bubble has an expiration date.

You know you shouldn't get too attached. But you're probably way past that now.

-

Which is why, to seemingly guard yourself, you pester Steve at dinner. 

“So, Steve, any word on my room?” you casually drop the question one evening, trying to keep the tone light. Across the table, Wanda's attention diverts from her lasagna to the conversation at hand, silently watching the exchange.

Steve, looking a tad weary, responds, “Honestly? I'm not sure. And you've brought this up, what, three times today?”

“Maybe if Tony actually replied to my messages, we wouldn't be having this chat every mealtime,” you argue, mindlessly twirling your fork around your pasta.

Before Steve can retort, Wanda intervenes. “If you're worried about overstaying in my space, you haven't. It's been...nice, having you there.”

Your cheeks flame up, a quick surge of heat that’s impossible to ignore. The sudden candidness in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, you're tongue-tied, searching for a response. She, too, seems taken aback by her own candor, her eyes widening a fraction.

“I-I mean, I don't mind…” she says, trying to recover from her prior lapse. She then diverts her attention, a little flustered, burying herself in her plate.

“Maybe we can set up a rota? You know, split the week between Natasha and Wanda's rooms?” Steve suggests.

From across the table, Natasha halts, shawarma in hand, and deadpans, “Since when was my room up for discussion?”

Your focus, however, remains fixed on Wanda. “It's not about that, Wanda,” you reply earnestly. “It’s just... we all need our space, right?”

Something shifts in Wanda's eyes, a flicker of disappointment perhaps, but before you can fully process it, she masks it with indifference. “I'm sorry,” she murmurs, starting to collect her plate with only a few bites missing from her lasagna. “I thought you were in a rush because of... well, me.”

You stare at her, momentarily stunned, with a growing urge to apologize. The dinner table suddenly feels miles long. 

Clearing your throat, you muster, “Wanda, it's not like that.”

She pauses, looking back at you, waiting. 

“I just thought it might be easier for both of us,” you say, cringing as the words don't quite capture your intended sentiment.

Her face tightens further, her demeanor chilling by several degrees. “You're right,” she replies, voice sharp and edged. “It might be easier for you.” 

Without another word, she stands up and leaves.

In the aftermath of Wanda's exit, an oppressive silence descends, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery on porcelain. Vision, always a touch out of step with human nuances, arches an eyebrow at Bucky. “Is there a particular reason the air's grown so dense?”

Before Bucky can answer, Natasha leans back, shooting you a pointed look. 

“By the way,” she drawls, pausing for emphasis. “My room has an exclusive guest list. Only one name on it–mine,” she says and then nonchalantly bites at her meat wrap, clearly having said her piece.

The room's temperature seems to further drop another few degrees following Natasha's remark. Steve shoots you a sympathetic glance while Bucky suppresses a smirk, amused at the drama unfolding.

Trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back, Sam quips, “Well, at this rate, I might start charging for bunking in my room. Any takers?”

You can't help but force a chuckle, silently thanking him for the attempt to lighten the mood. However, Wanda's departure and Natasha’s dry humor leave you pondering whether sharing a room might have been the better option after all.

-

For two nights straight, you avoid the Avenger's compound. 

Instead, you dip into your personal savings from past missions, booking yourself into a plush hotel downtown. The suite boasts modern amenities and a bed that critics might describe as 'a cloud'. 

Yet, for all its luxury, it feels...empty.

The Egyptian cotton sheets, while soft to the touch, are cold. The lavish bathroom, with its marble counters, feels too sterile. The room, while spacious, feels too silent. Deafeningly so.

Gone are the soft snores, the slight movement of a shared bed, and the comforting scent of Wanda's evening shampoo. All replaced by a void that no amount of luxury can fill. Your heart aches, not for the lack of comfort, but for the lack of connection.

(The lack of a… friend. Maybe after nights of sleeping side by side, it’s fair to think of her as such.)

And as another sleepless night passes in the hotel, you find yourself wishing for the simplicity of that pillow barrier, the steady rhythm of Wanda's breathing, and the tender sound of her voice whispering, “Good morning.”

It's high time to step out of this lavish prison and head back to the compound. 

More importantly, it's time to apologize to Wanda, something you should've done in the first place.

-

Pushing open the door to Wanda's room, you anticipate her familiar, mischievous smirk. Instead, a deafening silence surrounds you. The only telltale sign of her absence is the disarray of her belongings, possibly from prepping for an unexpected mission.

You have been looking forward to seeing her all day, unsure if she'd even welcome you back. Just as you consider heading elsewhere to find her, Vision suddenly steps out from a room further down the corridor.

“Wanda’s not here,” you state rather than ask.

“She's still in the debriefing room. The mission ran long, and discussions have been... extensive,” Vision offers, his head tilt subtle but noticeable, making you very much aware of his ability to read more than just your face.

You run a hand through your hair, weary. “Any idea how much longer?”

He seems to ponder, “At the rate they’re going? An hour, maybe more.”

The day's exhaustion settles on you, making your skin feel sticky and tired. You reason that perhaps Wanda might be more inclined to speak with you if you're freshened up and smelling good. With this thought, you let out a soft sigh, nodding in gratitude to Vision. 

Slipping back into Wanda’s room and absentmindedly neglecting to lock the door, you dive into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up, welcoming its brisk, invigorating sting against your tired skin. It’s surprisingly intimate to be using Wanda's products again after days without them, and you try not to think about how it all feels a bit... like home.

Several minutes later, wrapped in a towel with droplets still clinging to your skin, you pad over to your side of the bed. The damp cold from your hair seeping through the towel sends a chill down your spine, but the softness of Wanda's sheets beckon. You can't resist the temptation any longer and, with a soft thud, you flop down.

The moment you sink into the mattress, Wanda's familiar scent envelops you, a comforting blend of jasmine and something uniquely her. Closing your eyes, you realize just how much you've missed her–not just the shared bed or the late-night whispers, but the girl herself. 

The heart of it all.

Every thought of Wanda makes your heartbeat a tad bit faster. Your skin, slightly damp from the shower, feels hypersensitive against the silky sheets that smell so much like her. Every thread seems to graze your skin, reminding you of the presence you're currently missing.

Your thoughts start to shift, moving past innocent interactions you’ve had with Wanda so far. You’re now wondering if Wanda ever touched herself in this very same bed. If her fingers have lazily brushed against her core to thoughts of you, the way you’re doing now to thoughts of her. You wonder if she likes to tease herself, if she likes to pay attention to her clit or prefers to stuff herself with her own fingers.

You pull a pillow close, not just as a makeshift barrier, but as an anchor to steady the rush of arousal coursing through your body. But instead of calming you down, it sends you over the edge and deeper into your unchecked desires. The pillow is no longer just a fluffy companion; it becomes a stand-in for her–for Wanda.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not on the bed that belongs to the woman you’re imagining as you throw a leg over the unsuspecting pillow. In the midst of your internal conflict, your thighs still part to welcome the plush material as you’re about to lose all sense of control. 

But the universe seems to have its own way of snapping you out of questionable choices. 

Just as you're about to succumb to the overwhelming sensations, the door slams open. With a startled yelp, you topple off the bed, the towel that's your only semblance of decency barely holding on. The pillow, now a poor victim to your previous intentions, gets clutched to your chest in a frantic attempt to salvage some dignity.

There, framed in the doorway, is Wanda. Her eyes wide, an unreadable expression on her face. You've never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you do in this mortifying moment. Your face heats up, unsure if you could ever look Wanda in the eyes again after this. 

And just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, she speaks.

“Um... did I interrupt something?” Wanda asks, her voice teetering between amusement and genuine curiosity. She's trying, and failing, to hide a smirk.

You, on the other hand, are a mess of jumbled words and embarrassment. “I- I was just... It's not what it looks like,” you say, but the evidence around you paints a pretty distinct picture.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “Really? Because from here, it looks pretty... interesting.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow for a moment, the very one that betrayed you. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”

She chuckles, her earlier tension from the debriefing room (and the tension with you from days earlier) seeming to melt away in the face of your predicament. “Oh, I'm not sure I can. It's not every day I find someone... bonding with my pillow in such a way.”

Caught in a compromising situation with Wanda taking it all in, you cover your face with your hands. “I, um, Wanda, I apologize," you manage to stammer out, each word dripping with mortification.

She cocks her head, studying you. “It's... alright,” she murmurs, her gaze penetrating and elusive.  In any other circumstance, you might've caught the faint trail her eyes make over your partially exposed form, but right now, anxiety shrouds your every thought.

You bite your lip, the action causing Wanda’s breath to hitch. 

“Can I... could you give me a moment? Just to... get dressed?” you ask.

Wanda nods, her lips curving into a small, understanding smile. “Of course,” She takes a step back, her fingers brushing against the door frame. “Just... maybe lock the door next time?”

You chuckle weakly, nodding. “Definitely noted.”

Once alone in the room again, a ragged exhale escapes your lips. You immediately get to your feet, scrambling for your suitcase to find something–anything–that will save you from the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Outside the room, Wanda leans against the hallway wall, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the cool surface. The image of what she had walked into replays in her mind, sending tingles down her spine. 

She feels the urge to peer into your head, see who’s starring in your wildest fantasies.

If she wants, she can find out. 

But there's a line she knows she shouldn't cross, especially with teammates. Swallowing hard, Wanda decides to afford you the space and privacy to compose yourself.

Her reverie is broken by your voice, somewhat muted by the wall between you both. “I'm decent now,” you say, a touch of sheepishness clear in your tone. 

For a moment, Wanda hesitates, her fingers hovering inches from the door handle. Taking a fortifying breath, she turns the knob and steps into the room. 

“I'm so sorry,” you say as soon the door shuts with a soft click behind Wanda, eyes cast downward. The oversized Pikachu shirt you're wearing is probably the last thing she expected to see on you. Under different circumstances, she might have teased you about it.

Wanda shakes her head and smirks, crossing her arms in front of her. “Apologies for the pillow?”

“For what happened three days ago, during dinner. I never meant to offend you,” you say, still looking down.

Her eyes narrow, adopting a casual demeanor. “Offend me? I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

Risking a glance up, your eyes meet Wanda's, searching for a hint of the resentment or anger you're expecting. Instead, you find a relaxed, almost indifferent look in her eyes. No hint of upset, no sign of offense taken. Her nonchalance takes you aback.

“You know,” she muses, her tone light, “You were so caught up in your thoughts that you stayed away from this room for days.”

“Did I read the situation wrong?” you wonder aloud feeling a little foolish now that it seems you were reading into things too much.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, her playful smirk returning. “Perhaps you're overthinking things a bit. Honestly, if I was truly offended, I would've said something. As for wanting space,” she continues, her gaze drifting over to the tousled sheets, “I didn't think it was a big deal.”

Swallowing your surprise, a tiny smile forms on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you've been looking at the entire situation wrong. Maybe the pillow barrier, the shared space, and the soft morning greeting weren't as loaded with meaning as you thought. 

Maybe, with Wanda, things were just simpler.

And yet, somehow, you’re disappointed by that possibility.

It means she doesn’t care if you get your room sooner or later. 

It means she wouldn’t miss you as much as you would when you permanently get to sleep in your own bed.

“So… we’re good?” you ask tentatively.

Wanda simply nods. An awkward silence quickly follows and your attention is inadvertently drawn to the pillow strewn aside, its memory fresh and horrifying.

“Uh, nothing happened, but,” you say, coughing into your fist nervously. “I’ll make sure to wash that pillow.”

[airybcby]

my top artist was deftones and the most listened to song was rosemary

if your top artist was deftones and your most listened to song was rosemary, i'd pair you with...

shidou ryusei

જ⁀♡⊹｡° just stay with me

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist -

♡ content — shidou ryusei x gn! reader, gn! reader, kinda situationship?, insane relationship, heavy on shidou's crazy self

♡ synopsis — shidou ryusei is everything you're afraid of. so why can't you stay away from him?

The apartment felt charged with unspoken energy as you stood by the balcony, staring out at the city lights scattered like stars in the distance. The air was crisp, stinging against your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that made your hands tremble. It was the man standing behind you—Shidou Ryusei—leaning against the doorframe with a lazy smirk, his molten gaze trailing over you like a predator watching its prey.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Thinking about me, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, though you didn’t turn to face him. He had that effect on you—this ability to unsettle, to disarm, as if he thrived on making your pulse race for reasons you could never admit. It wasn’t fair, really. Shidou was chaos incarnate, a storm you knew you shouldn’t step into, but God, didn’t the edge of destruction always feel enticing?

“Not everything is about you,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

He laughed, soft but sharp, like the crackle of electricity in the air before a lightning strike. “Liar.”

The weight of his presence pressed closer, and you felt him step into the cool night air beside you. His hands rested on the balcony railing, fingers brushing yours as if by accident. You flinched at the contact, but Shidou didn’t move away. He never did. He thrived on pushing boundaries, on testing limits—especially yours.

“You don’t have to pretend, y’know,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “We’re more alike than you think.”

You scoffed at that. “Oh, really? How’s that?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked out over the skyline. For once, his expression lacked its usual mischievous edge, replaced instead by something… softer. “You like the thrill. The unknown. You’re scared of it, but you want it anyway. Just like me.”

You turned to face him then, meeting his gaze fully. His eyes, usually brimming with wild energy, held something deeper tonight—something raw and unguarded. It made your breath hitch, though you quickly masked it with a scoff.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I don’t need to,” he replied, leaning closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the city below. “I can feel it. You and me, we’re not meant to be with normal people. We need each other.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy, intoxicating fog. Shidou always knew exactly what to say to unravel you, to chip away at the walls you’d built to protect yourself from him. Because no matter how much you tried to deny it, he was right.

There was something magnetic about him, something you couldn’t resist no matter how dangerous it felt. It was in the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It was in the way his touch lingered just long enough to leave you aching for more. It was in the way his words, reckless and raw, cut straight to the truth you were too scared to admit to yourself.

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but the tremor in your voice betrayed the conviction you tried to muster.

Shidou grinned, a sharp, predatory thing that sent shivers down your spine. “Maybe. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

He moved closer, his hand brushing yours again, but this time, he didn’t stop. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you didn’t pull away. His grip was firm, grounding, yet it sent a thrill through you that felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

“You’re scared,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “But it’s okay. I’ll be here for you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the sincerity buried beneath the cocky veneer he wore like armor. It was terrifying, this pull he had on you, the way he could see straight through you and make you feel like you were unraveling from the inside out. But maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“Shidou,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin as he tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours. “What’s it gonna be?” he asked, his voice soft but charged with anticipation. “Stay safe, or take the leap?”

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts that all led back to him. Shidou Ryusei was chaos, danger, the kind of person who could break you without even trying. But he was also magnetic, irresistible, the only one who made you feel alive in a way that scared you as much as it thrilled you.

And maybe, just this once, you didn’t want to be safe.

You closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that surprised even you. Shidou responded immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The kiss was everything he was—wild, consuming, and utterly unforgettable.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and shaken, he rested his forehead against yours, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Told you,” he murmured, his voice laced with triumph. “You’re just like me.”

Maybe you were. And maybe that was okay.

For now, you let yourself fall.

this was such word vomit, but i love writing for him

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[ctheathy]

Representative of Power

Secret History Tails x Reader

NSFW Oneshot

Author's note: I can't believe these fics are the only ones I somehow manage to finish, I swear ☠️ I'm gonna have to get my motivation going again.

Potential ⚠️ TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

This is a smut fic, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!SH Tails • Dry humping • Use of the term ‘mommy’ but gender is not specified otherwise • Climax mentioned • Tails being vocal

Tails was so overwhelmed.

He wanted you to be proud of him. But as soon as you turned around to leave and allow him to rest? he couldn’t fight the urge anymore: He needed you. Tails didn’t even hesitate, he just lunged forward out of the bed and pushed his body up against yours, ramming your back into the nearby wall. He wanted to be closer, so much closer... He wanted to know what it felt like to be used. All the time he couldn’t talk to you, was all the time he wanted to touch you...

You couldn't help but let out a gasp as he practically launched himself at you, pinning and cornering you into a wall. But despite your shock, you managed to keep a grin on your face. You raised an eyebrow, letting out a faint laugh as you spoke out to your fox partner, putting your hands on his chest to create a little bit of distance.

“Ah... Do you need anything?”

At that moment, Tails could smell your hair. It smelled very… attractive, and familiar. The mobian’s legs went weak as he was close to you. And especially when you rubbed your thumbs on hi, Tails’ face flushed up. He felt so weak and so comfortable in your presence… As if he could literally die of happiness in your arms.

“More…”

He whispered softly, as his eyes widened while staring at you. He needed more.

“more?” You repeated in a tone of question, cocking your head to the side with your smirk expanding a little. “i'm gonna need you to elaborate, my sweet, sweet boy” Your voice rang through the room along with a snicker, directly confirming that you were playing dumb and hard to get, but you had still tried to keep it cool nonetheless. Your fingertips began teasing the fur on his chest, pressing through the coat and circling around on his hot flesh.

Tails let out a small, but loud moan of pleasure as his body was being massaged by your sneaky fingers. He was so turned on right now. And it was the most confusing sensation to him. He felt so wrong for wanting you right now, but he couldn’t even try to resist.

“More, mommy...” Tails whispered. He wanted you to know how good he felt, especially when he said “mommy.” Resulting in you letting out a little ‘hmm’ for joy, smirking to yourself as you leaned in a little. You stuck out your tongue, placing your arms around his shoulders in order to keep him in place. It was quiet other than his heavy breaths, fogging up the place as he panted like a dog.

Though without warning, you pressed your bottom onto his with how close they were, teasing him even further. “like this~?” you purred out, as you grinded your hips onto his lower half, knowing he couldn't do a damn thing about it. And as expected, he once again let out a loud moan as you grinded your body on him.

You were playing this game with him, and he didn’t want to waste any opportunity he had. And so... he grabbed your hips and pinned you down against the wall, and began moving his hips slowly and rhythmically against yours, all the while biting away at his bottom lip.

“sweetheart, you're grinding on me...” you silently muttered, your free hand traveling towards the back of his head, caressing through his fur and reaching his scalp with your fingertips. You weren't necessarily uncomfortable by this outcome, rather just... amused. You ignored the moan that left him as you looked up from your pinned position. “You're going through... it ...aren't you? Do you need some help? Or are you just gonna dry hump me?”

you questioned with a hint of sarcasm and another snicker, not minding the fox in rut. A loud moan leaving his mouth as he heard your question with the obvious taunt. Your fingernails traced across his head, teasing him in the process as you gave him the exact same cocky grin.

“I don’t need help…”

He whispered in between his moans, feeling so humiliated. You were calling him out on something he was still confused about. Your words were also so teasing and he wanted to get back at you. His eyes were locked onto yours, along with his teeth gritting. He moved his hips even faster, getting desperate with the overwhelming sparks he felt in his lower region.

Which only made you snort in response, raising an eyebrow. “oh? You're trying to tell me that you don't require some help, hmm~?” you spoke out in a tone of sass and doubt as your fingers traced all over his body, now getting him even more bothered on purpose. From his shoulders, to his back, to his chest... You were all over him. And before he knew it, you gave him one single grinding movement of your own once again, allowing the warmth of your hips to get to him. And knowing a hopeless mess like Tails would do anything for the sensation at this point.

The moment you gave him that grinding movement, Tails let out a loud and long moan of pleasure that felt so good... His eyes widened and he took a deep breath in. He then moved his hips up and down rapidly and roughly against yours, and his grunts were loud. His teeth were gritting tightly, but in between the loud grunts he was making, he managed to call out to you.

“I don’t need help…!”

However, he still was looking up at you with those desperate puppy eyes... And your smirk just grew a little at that as you backed up, shrugging before you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards. “If you say so~”

You spoke out in a careless manner, before you yanked his hands off of you. “have fun with your itty bitty problem on your own then. Since you don't need help” your words being cold yet sly, which noticeably made him let out a pathetic growl in response. It were his words, not yours. He'd have to choose between his pride or you.

Tails was so turned on right now, that for a moment he started to get angry. But he couldn’t stay angry with you for too long. He was simply… overwhelmed by his love and lust. And he also still wanted to make you proud, so he simply…

Swallows his pride.

He went to you with a more gentle approach as he laid his head on your shoulder, and spoke softly.

“I need you to help me… mommy…”

This was it. Your shit eating grin reappeared on your face but there was also a hint of softness to it. You were practically melting. You leaned in with your head to the point you were right near him. You blew into his ear and he could feel the warmth of your breath on him, along with hearing a small giggle of amusement. Your free hand went over to caress the back of his neck, moving it up and down as you looked at him with prying eyes

“aww...~ good boy~” you spoke in your best and sweetest tone yet

Tails couldn’t even take it anymore. His breathing was fast, his heart was pounding, and his face was bright red with the drool leaking down his lips. And as you spoke those sweet words to his ear, he let out a vocal whine of pleasure, with his body just collapsing on your shoulder.

He was ready to beg for more. He didn’t even care about anything anymore. The fox just wanted you... your simple grip on him making him shiver with ease, as you held onto him in order to keep him balanced. And in order to reward him, you deeply pressed your bottom onto his groin area once again, returning the sensation in one go. The heat of your body temperature from down there making it so much more difficult for him to handle. Making it even worse so when you began rubbing yourself up and down on him.

Tails began to feel a heaviness on his pelvis... And the moment he felt it, he completely lost himself, he couldn’t handle it anymore. All the priority to keep his pride in check going straight out of the window. You could notice him getting wetter and wetter as time went on, indicating that he was close... feeling his fluids going right through your clothing, along with him becoming more whiny... more needy for anything. With him becoming especially vocal by you gently trying to ease him into it.

“You're doing so well, sweetheart...~” you complimented with a grin, before you sped up the pace of grinding your crotch against his. Keeping a steady grip on him and making sure he wouldn't fall onto the floor just like that, allowing him to rest on your body. You guided his head towards your chest as you put your chin onto his head, flattening his bangs. All while continuing to thrust your hips onto him, making him completely soak.

Tails rested his imbalance on your body, his face buried in your cleavage. He couldn’t handle how soft you were, it felt so amazing... And as you started to thrust your hips onto his, his body went weak, and he just started to moan and drool. He wanted this so much… But, he was getting so close to the limit, so he was holding back as much as he could.

But you were not having that... Making him gasp out and whimper as you grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up at you. You pressed your thumb on his chapped lips, making him let out yet another small moan.

“Shh...~ it's okay, sweetie. Will you release your tension for mommy~?” you murmured, keeping his groin pressed up against you and making him shake in his boots. Making a desperate attempt to make small rubbing motions on your body, but you sure kept him in line. And it was clear your plan was working with how moist he was getting himself, his fur now all sticky and wet...

He was so close, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He pressed his legs together as the warm feeling of you was beginning to make his body reach its peak. And he was so sensitive down there, and the wetness… Oh, God. It was so pleasureable. And just like that… he gave in.

“M…m…” He was so shy… “Mommy...” He whispered in a muffled voice, trying to hide his face in your chest. “good boy...~” you just gave him that last tiny push as you held him by his rump, before grinding him on you instead of the other way around. Pushing him against you deeply as you thrusted back in return, creating an even higher sensation than before. The two were like two connected puzzle pieces, and you knew this was really the last thing he'd need before releasing...

And as soon as you made your move, his eyes widened, and he started moaning really loud. His legs went weak, and he started kicking and trembling a little. He still tried to hold back, but, he couldn’t any longer: all his energy got drained immediately as his eyes rolled back, and he started to melt… like a mess. His fluids began to drip.

And as he did, his whole body went slack. You could literally see him go from mischievous and proud to weak and submissive. His body went all soft, and he melted all over you. The mess of fluids that dripped from the two of you was just… so perfect. He couldn’t even speak. He literally lost all of his words as he laid in shame.

Tails would do anything for you...

You gave a huge grin as he came undone and laid out like it was the end of the world. You took a tiny step back but made sure to still hold onto him so he wouldn't collapse, giving his arms a tiny squeeze. He was an absolute wreck. Tears were pouring down his face, with sweat stains visible, and drool was leaking out of the corners of his mouth. And don't even get me started on the festival down there. He looked like he just stepped out of a pond. And this only made it better for you.

Your little fingers massaged over his arms as you pampered him by giving these little kisses all over his face, seemingly not grossed out by the bodily fluids on his face. You even went out and gave him a smooch right on his mouth, allowing his leaking saliva to enter yours.

Tails was just so… humiliated. But he was so used to you having power over him in these private situations. He felt so much shame, but he felt so much love for you, simultaneously. Because you were the one who made him feel this way. And he knew he loved that. So… he was so glad that you found pleasure in his desperation. His body felt the best it ever did. He wasn’t just dripping, he was flowing. And he was completely yours... but...

You didn't seem to be done.

Right before he even got to say anything, you now pushed him against the wall instead, not allowing him the slightest bit of space. You balanced on one of your feet as you tilted up your other leg, right before pressing your knee right onto him again, almost making him choke and gasp out for air once again. Slowly beginning to give more pressure down there.

His legs immediately folded under him as you pushed your knee against his groin. Tails’ whole body went limp, his eyes rolling slightly. His eyes were locked onto your, and he could feel his mouth watering. Your grip on him increased, and he looked like you were playing with him. This time he wouldn’t be able to resist any of this… And he’d be your little pet again. This was just the beginning.

Your mouth went up to his throat as your teeth nipped him, taking his skin in between your side teeth right before letting it slip again, teasing him. Your weight leaned on him as you got into his personal space, the pressure of your knee making him feel turned on again... making him just as sensitive as before while you pressed him in between yourself and the wall, feeling his previous release drip down from your clothing.

You were so careful and gentle with both his mind and body. Tails being all wet like before, then you simply nibbling on his neck and then the heat of your body making him feel so relaxed, he felt like your own little toy. And he loved the fact that he belonged to you. The amount of pleasure he could feel… was unmatched. His hips began to move ever so slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

The fact that he was trying to grind himself against you again was honestly one of the most pathetic sights you've ever witnessed, but you didn't mind. In fact, you were willing to give him a little gift for being so good before. You stood on your tippy toes and went over towards his ear, your breath audible to his senses making his twitch. You gave him one single grinding movement before stopping and whispering something in his ear..

“Go all out with your rut, my little beast~ I'm all yours~” you purred with a chuckle, giving him permission to what he wanted as you began biting at his left ear. You were still gonna take the lead, but you wanted to see just how much he'd do when given the chance to. How much control he'd lose over himself...

Just the feeling of permission from you was so strong for Tails. The moment you blew your breath against his ear, he couldn’t help but moan a little. And that was when he truly started to turn savage with his movements. His body became aggressive and animalistic. He started to moan and pant and he started to thrust rapidly and rough against you. This wasn’t just about him anymore though… It was about him and you. And you held complete control.

You had never heard the boy so vocal before, but you found amusement in how he was practically behaving like a wild animal for you. The mobian had no filter left anymore. Despite your silence in the duration of the act, the desperation on his face and the inhuman noises he was releasing made it much more enjoyable than you thought it would.

You both knew you were absolutely dominating over him the whole time he was going crazy on you, but the feelings he felt… were completely mutual. But at this point, his need to give you the satisfaction felt so strong that he was just giving into you completely. Tails started to cry out loudly with tears running down his face, and not caring that this made it even more arousing for you. He wanted to do everything for you.

And he was basically a vivid representation for your power over him.

[multifandomfix]

Being A Royalist And Dating Jack Sparrow Would Include

As a staunch royalist, you've always had a deep fascination with the monarchy and its history. You've kept your admiration for the crown a secret, especially from Jack. Him being a pirate and all, you know it likely wouldn’t be received well.

As your relationship with Jack grows it becomes harder to hide your ideals from him. Even though you’ve grown to see his way of life, that didn’t change your own views completely.

Eventually, you have to tell him that you’re a royalist. He visibly recoiled at first, but he still likes you for the person you’ve been when you’re with him.

Jack loves to challenge your beliefs, and you find yourself defending the crown's honor with fervor.

You sometimes try to introduce a touch of regal fashion into Jack's pirate wardrobe. He might resist at first, but he can't deny that it does make him look rather distinguished.

Occasionally, you convince Jack to accompany you to royal events or palaces. His attitude clashes with the decorum of these places, but you both manage to have a good time.

Much to your surprise, Jack occasionally shows a begrudging respect for certain royal figures, admitting that even pirates benefit from a bit of order and structure in the world.

You join Jack on his seafaring adventures, and your knowledge of royal history often comes in handy when deciphering cryptic clues or understanding the significance of ancient artifacts.

You're careful not to reveal your relationship to any fellow royalists, as they might not approve of your association with a pirate. It's a secret love affair that adds excitement to your life.

Despite your differences, your love for each other is undeniable. You both learn to accept each other's quirks and viewpoints, making your relationship a true adventure on the high seas.

For @skullr0se

Jack Sparrow: @iticaboopsyou, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @whither-the-wind-goes, @bluenystic, @puppy-coded, @fog-on-the-moon, @music-bird, @daretoscream7, @biximagyins, @danimorgan1708, @hotshot624, @witchthewriter, @thekirbishow

[kaixserzz]

i looked into the mirror today and i was like GODDAMN my eyebags are HORRIBLE holy shit 😭😭made me think about zandik so here :3 kinda sucks but i just needed to prep myself b4 i write smth longer and get through this state of mind 💀💀

dottore drabble x4 "eyebags"

during your days back at the akademiya, it was not uncommon for scholars and students alike to have sleepless nights for the sake of their own projects and research.

zandik was especially no exception, despite his research usually having nothing to do with the akademiya.

it was always you who would remind him to sleep, so he wouldn't pass out in the middle of writing on his desk or start stumbling as he walks. you seemed to care for his body more than he did himself.

but he'd listen to you anyway, no matter how much he thinks it would be a hindrance to his progress if he dared to sleep, take a break, or even eat. you always seem to manage to convince him into doing things you want (for his own good).

it's not like he could think straight in such a vulnerable state.

so zandik was surprised to see you passed out on the living room floor, with papers messily splayed all over the coffee table, and dirty plates with leftover food on the couch.

if it was him in the scene, you probably would've scolded him for messing up the living room and sleeping there, but as of late, zandik noticed that you've been way too busy. but he hasn't seen you pull all-nighters unless there were exams, or you were nearing a due date.

zandik took it upon himself to investigate, peering into the numerous papers laid on the wooden table and ultimately found out that some of these papers weren't even yours, or were a group project.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

without waking you, zandik picked up all the papers and organized them as neatly as possible, resisting the urge to rip them apart. it was your work after all, despite the papers having someone else's name in them. then, he cleaned the dishes you'd left from your midnight snacks.

when you groaned and started blinking blearily awake, zandik gently pushed you back onto the couch, mumbling something about sleeping more.

and when you refused, he glared at you with a huff. "sometimes, your kindness could be such a curse," he remarks as he watched you shakily sit up, yawning, "you look horrible."

ignoring his comment as you stretched your body, noticing the clean living room. you gave a knowing smile to zandik, to which he just scoffed at.

you almost flinched at the sudden touch of his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks soothingly as he stared into your eyes. the fog of sleepiness hasn't been fully cleared from your mind, and you find yourself melting in his hands, sighing blissfully.

his thumbs pressed on the flesh beneath your eyes, and his right eye twitched. "you have big eyebags."

at that, you let out a noise, offended at his words, as you quickly sobered up from your sleepy state and glared halfheartedly at him. your hands found themselves on his face and lightly pinched his cheeks.

"like you're one to talk!" you pouted at him, "you're the one sleeping 2 hours everyday if i don't tell you to sleep!"

"i do not care much of what you do," he quickly lied, and you rolled your eyes, "but i will not stand for your idiocy to do everything yourself." zandik hissed, not noticing how his brewing anger made him dig his nails onto your jawline.

but it wasn't painful, considering how gentle he was whenever he holds you. though, you could tell he was genuinely upset. why were you letting others take advantage of you? he hates it, and you know he will do something about it sooner or later.

your chest felt warm knowing that he cares so much about you.

so you just sighed and grabbed him by his arms, before falling back onto the couch.

zandik yelps as he lands onto your body, and before he could process what you did, you had your arms wrapped around his torso, successfully trapping him. "what are you doing?" he glares at you again, elbows on the both sides of your head, propping himself upwards to not crush you.

"let's sleep a bit more," you cooed, pulling him to you, using all his strength to deny his squirming. you let him lay atop your body, arms refusing to let him go.

zandik flushed at the closeness, struggling to think coherently as your hot breath fanned against his neck. he felt the hairs on his arms stand when you spoke against his skin.

"we're both tired, so let's sleep,"

zandik scowled, but he let himself be comfortable against your body. he couldn't help but breathe in your scent as he buried his face in your chest, slowly growing content in this position. the feeling of your hand rubbing his head in all the right places is slowly lulling him to sleep once more.

"...fine," he relented with a grumble, "just this once, only because you're an idiot who needs a teddy bear to sleep."

you laughed lightly, before kissing him on the cheek. "thanks for looking out for me,"

"whatever..."

ugh, how is he going to sleep when you make his heart pound crazily against his ribcage?

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[the-whatcherof-89]

Tangotek aka Mr Decked out the tangler.

CR 20 N Humanoid Native Outsider

XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)Ifrit (Sun Soul) Sorcerer 20 (Cross-blooded: Harrow-Mechanical)

Neutral Medium humanoid Init +4; Senses Perception +23

AC 32, touch26, flat-footed28 (+4Dex, +6Armor, +6Natural, +5Deflect) HP 175 (20d6+100)

Fort +15, Ref +15, Will +26

Speed 30 ft. Melee Flaming scimitar+13 +1d6 fire Ranged Light Crossbow+16 1d8+2

Racial Native outsider, Darkvision 60ft, Fire in the blood, Fire resistance 5, Sun metal 1/day.

Traits Fiery gaze, overprotective.

Class features Eschew materials, Bloodline powers(Launch gears, See it coming, Invoke the harrow, Harrowed home, Clockwork masterpiece), Bloodline arcana, Bonus feats: Toughness, Iron guts, Harrower, Skill focus Engineering, Craft wondrous times, Extend spells), Bonus spells: Analyze device, Shocking grasp, Harrowing, Shadow conjuration, Rapid repair, Repulsion, Greater Harrowing, Moment of prescience, Weird).

Spellcasting CL20 DC21 spells per day 9/9/9/8/8/8/8/7/7 

Spells known:

9-Wish, Time stop, Meteor swarm.

8-Discern location, Polymorph any object, Sun burst.

7-Limited wish, Symbol of stunning, Spell turning.

6-Dispel magic (Greater), Geas/quest, Anti-magic field.

5-Secret chest, Telekinesis, Cloudkill, Teleport, Fabricate.

4-Wall of fire, Superior invisibility, Stoneskin, Dimension door.

3-Fly, Dispel magic, Haste, Fireball, Phantom mount .

2-Glitterdust, See invisibility, Fog cloud, Resist energy, Molten orb.

1-Shield, Mage armor, Magic missile, Burning hands, Grease.

0-Read magic, Detect magic, Mage hand, Mending, Acid splash, Resistance, Flare, Prestidigitation.

Str 14Dex 18 Con 18 Int 14 Wis 10 Cha 32

Base Atk +10/5; CMB +12; CMD +16

Feats Quicken spells, Strong personality, Eldritch heritage(Mechanical emphaty), Improved Eldritch heritage(The rebuild), Greater eldritch heritage(Warmachine).

Skills Appraise+7, Bluff+16, Craft(Metal and stone)+15, Disable device+9, Fly+9, Intimidate+16, Knowledge (Arcana)+15, (History)+7, (Engineering)+15, Profession(Architect)+13, Perception+13, Spellcraft+15, Use magic device +24. 

Languages Common, Ignan, Draconic.

Combat gear Ampoule of false blood, Staff of metals[allows the use of the following spells: Major creation(1 charge only metal objects), Wall of iron(1Charge), Wand of cure critical wounds, Rod of absorption, Rod of empower metamagic, Ghost touch light crossbow+1, 50+1 seeking Bolts, Flaming scimitar+1, Shoes of the firewalker, Bracers of armor+6, Trapspringer’s gloves, Crimson robes  of Tek(Glamered robe of the Arcane heritage-Harrowed combined with Sorcerer’s robes), Headband of alluring charisma+6, Eyes of the eagle, Ring of protection+5, Belt of physical might+4 (Con Dex), Ioun stones (Scarlet blue and blue sphere, Incandescent blue sphere), Ring of spell knowledge IV(Sculpt stone), Pearl of power III, Tome of leadership and influence+4 (used), Bag of holding (type I), Potions: (2)Cure critical wounds, (2)Gaseous form, (2)Haste, (2)Displacement, Fly(2), Alchemist kit, Sorcerer’s kit, Spell components worth 2000gp, Harrow deck, 442gp. 

Background Cordial, polite, vibrant and cheerful the red eyed Tangotek is one of the many inhabitants of the land of hermits where many buildings are made, defying the very laws of physics reaching an unseen level of wonder. Tango is famous especially for the creations of various games made to entertain the various hermits(sometimes in hilarious ways) and various iron farms that support the local economy. Appreciated and used by all, once you enter the circle of friends of Tango it is certain that he will protect you fiercely like a male alpha lion defends his pride. It was one day like the others and Tango was supervising his creation called Decked out to see if all the mechanical parts were in working order. He was about to finish when he noticed an area that wasn’t there before. “When- when did i make this? Did i make this?” He peeked inside to find a strange hallway with many dioramas displaying different miniature buildings that he made in the past and a very large iron door at the end. “I didn't make this. Grian? Is this yours? Are you trolling me?” As he was looking around someone spoke to him: “I tried your game, very inspiring. Do you want to try mine?” Tango looked around but saw no one, he was alone. “Where are you? Did you build this? You are not Grian, aren’t you?” The voice smirked “No, but he accepted my challenge, as well as the others… ALL OF THEM.” Tango suddenly became worried: “What did you do?!” His yelling was filled with frustration. “Why don’t you find out? Come in.” The large iron door opened, slightly. Tango approached cautiously but when he placed his hand on the handle the world around him shifted and found himself in another room full of traps with new equipments on him: spikes from the ceiling, buzzsaws, wall flamethrowers and so on. “The rules are simple: to whoever finds me first i will realize that person most deep wish. Ready? Set… GO!” Tango, still bamboozled took a deep breath: “It’s READY… SET… NINER! You…!” Realizing that the voice wasn’t there anymore, he just clenched his teeth and pushed forward.

[junosmindpalace]

somethin’ stupid

☾ ft. chuuya nakahara

☾ lately, chuuya hasn’t been able to resist his bluntness. 

inspired by the song “somethin’ stupid” <3

“I love you.”

These evenings were perfect, Chuuya thought, and he hoped you shared his sentiment. Evenings spent filling the gaps in your time together, fragmented by streams of work, appreciating the nighttime Yokohama scenery as you walked to the bar you frequented after enjoying a luxurious dinner (funded, of course, by Chuuya’s wallet), and indulging in the satisfying burn of whatever drink you decided on that night as it slipped down your throats. 

There was never a dull moment in the Port Mafia, always something in need of attention. You especially, as an intelligence officer, would be buried knee deep in either some external affairs or paperwork that made you want to suffocate yourself in its depth. It wasn’t often that your schedule aligned with Chuuya’s. He’d always wait patiently in line with your other duties until you’d finally have time to spend an evening with him.

In his drunken state, he would ramble on about whatever emotion had been overtaking him. For some time it was anger, and for a long while the topic of his drunken rambles was his annoyance over his former partner. But when the two of you were alone together, another emotion captivated him, though it wasn’t any kinder on his heart nor any more soothing on his mind. 

It was a gentleness you could only imagine few in the Port Mafia being exposed to, an intimacy reserved only for you on the nights the two of you would slip into your usual bar making easy conversation, laughing lightheartedly about whatever topic of conversation you were discussing. Only when he is with you, when the stars turn red and when your perfume intermingled with the fog in his already hazy head from the drink he swirls around in his glass does his inability to express himself tenderly finally drift away with the fog. Only then can he say the words that always linger in the back of his mind. Words so simple, so cliché, so right--

“I love you.”

He says it quieter this time, processing through the haze that your silence wasn’t necessarily good reception to his confession. Through the fog he can still observe the emotion in your eyes, those beautiful vibrant eyes of yours. It was familiar; he had seen it through the fog yesterday too. Annoyance? Anger? It was hard to name. But your eyes welled with it, staring at him with your mouth curled ever so slightly in distaste. 

He had said the words the night before as well, under the exact same circumstances. After dropping into the same bar with you, exchanging laughs and anecdotes, and having his drink seize his mind and emotions. Your face was different tonight, however. Last night, Chuuya remembers through the haze, your eyes were wide and shimmered with that undetectable emotion, your mouth agape and sitting straight. Tonight however, your body stiffened upon processing the words- words that were no different than last nights, hunched over your drink as you stared at him. 

To you, it was just a line. People say all sorts of things when they're intoxicated. But the words have never felt so right to Chuuya when he says them to you. 

He’s never been the type to outright confess to anything he feels, but he’s always trying to be clever with his actions, always trying to make his feelings go through to you in the ways he knows how. Always a simple call away when you’d need anything at all, letting friendly touches linger just a second longer, the care in his eyes when he looked at you. Never quite being able to hold himself back from getting involved when it came to you, always treating your affairs as if they were his, your emotions his own. Whether you liked it or not, he was by your side, doing anything and everything to support you. 

Yet still, these sorts of things were typical of Chuuya- typical of the Port Mafia- and so the message never quite reached you. In the evenings, however, he couldn’t restrain his bluntness. Instead of taking in the night scenery on his walk to the bar, bathing in the yellow glow of street-lamps, he’s admiring your face illuminated by the silver rays of the moonlight, the feelings bubbling up as he basked in your laughter, hands suddenly hot under his gloves (which have only ever posed as a constraint when you were around) when you stared at him with that ever attentive gaze of yours, head tilted to the side. It was no wonder the words just tumbled out when he was doing everything in his power to bite them back sober, so simple but so right. They felt good on his tongue, knowing that you were on the receiving end of them. And so he says it again, even quieter.

“I love you.” 

You're searching his face and he’s still gazing into your eyes under the blurry counter lights, focusing on your face in order to try and fix his cloudy vision. By tomorrow, he’ll probably forget the words he spoke, and of course, you won’t bring them up, just like you had done before in order to maintain your current relationship. He’d hate himself if he knew, always so gentlemanly and courteous with you that acting so insensitively and out of character would only leave him to marvel over his inappropriate behavior in agony. And that patience and kindness of yours Chuuya just adored would make sure that such a thing didn’t happen. You were mature enough to handle the situation with grace. There was no reason to inconvenience him when they were nothing but words. 

With how many times he repeats them, however, you would think it were a chant, a spell he’s casting to try to convince you the words meant more than your hurt expression was telling him. It was unlike him to be so quiet, known for his expressiveness especially when under the influence. It was as if his mind had only a single thought that he urgently needed to get through. 

They do say drunk words are sober thoughts. 

His vision tunnels and his eyes slowly shrink, but Chuuya still manages to mumble out the line one final time before the grip on his glass loosens and he passes out with his head tilted sideways.

 “I love you.”

🏷️ tags: @sunslept​ because she told me to post

[fandom-go-round]

Can you do Astrotrain x reader where the reader was fishing but got stuck in the middle of the ocean. Unsure of what to do, they panic when they spot something much, *much* larger than any shark or whale they've seen. Que to them being taken hostage by mermaid astrotrain since he watches the small human not run away, but just be scared and curious :3

You have no idea what to do. Normally, going fishing in the mornings is the best thing to do. It gives you enough time to steer out to your favorite fishing spot and set up before it gets too hot. Then, after a good day of fishing, you can head home before it gets too busy. This morning, however, things had gone from bad to worse. You had left early enough but there was thick fog covering everything. You had thought it would burn off with the sun but it had only gotten worse, making it so you could barely see in front of you. You can called it early, wanting to make sure you could get home on time and then something hit your boat, sending your oars overboard.

Needless to say, you were trapped with no way home. You wanted to scream in frustration but resisted; maybe another boat would find you and take you home. You prayed the fog would just disappear already but you weren’t that lucky. It’s partly why you didn’t notice the creature, it blended in so well with the fog and water. Your first thought was that it was a shark, as odd as it was to see them in these waters. Next you thought maybe it was a whale, because that shadow was much, much larger than a shark. Then you froze because a single eye was peering at you up through the water, bright red and nestled on a human face.

Astrotrain was expecting a scream. That was usually what he was greeted with when he tried to look at humans. They were skittish creatures, especially when they ended up in the water. He didn’t mean to hit their little boat but he hadn’t seen it, too busy tracking fish below him. Now, on his back, he could see wide eyes staring back to him, not running away but full of wonder. Heh. Cute.

You yelped as huge hands came out of the water, holding your boat between them. You scrambled back as much as you could, a huge face rising out of the water to look at you. The boat was cradled in its palms, red eyes locked on your face. With trembling hands, you reached out and very gently touched the creature’s hand. It grinned, showing up a mouthful of sharp teeth and you let out a shaky sigh. So much for getting home soon.

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

Sing The Song of Sorrow and Grieving

Vanessa and Sydney take Gregory to see Vincent about a recurring dream that keeps interrupting sleep for them all. Vincent looks into it, but what he finds is especially confusing...

===========

.

“So another nightmare issue?” Ven murmured, sketching a few more lines of his concept design to get the idea on paper before the start of the session. Vanessa and Sydney sat together on one sofa while Gregory lay on the other, the boy watching him with faint interest while propped up with throw pillows. “My sister said she helped out that friend of yours. Didn’t say for what and Vincent does that whole client confidentiality thing, but I could sense that whatever went on, it seemed to go well for him.” He glanced up and managed a quick smile, “So I guess what I’m trying to say is that, if you had any worries about him, you can relax. Extra stress from other factors could affect the nightmares and make it a little bit harder for Vincent to pinpoint the issue.”

“That’s good. And yeah, I already know what he went through, it’s fine,” Gregory replied and sighed, relaxing into the cushions and pillows, “He’s a nice guy. Dunno how he got caught up in Fazbear Entertainment’s shit but at least he didn’t lose anything important.” He shrugged a little, “And calling what I got a ‘nightmare’ doesn’t really seem like it fits. It’s just a weird dream, not really all that scary. Just.. weird.”

“Whatever it is, it’s happening often enough that you keep coming to our room and waking Sydney up for hot chocolate,” Vanessa said worriedly, sharing a glance with the man beside her. He signed a response and her frown deepened. “Yeah, I know you don’t mind getting up to comfort him, but I think we’d all rest easier if we sorted out what’s causing the nightmare so he doesn’t lose sleep so much.”

“I’ll sleep when I am dead,” Gregory intoned, hands folded neatly over his stomach. His mouth twitched into a smile and he laughed when the three adults stared at him in muted horror. “What?! I was joking! C’mon!” he declared. Sydney signed again and Gregory pouted. “How was I supposed to know we’re almost out of those chocolate things you use? You keep them up on that shelf where I can’t get to it!” he complained and threw his hands up, “Not my fault I’m short!”

“Still, Vanessa has a good point,” Ven told him, closing up his sketchbook and setting it aside, “Sooner we sort out why you have this recurring dream, the sooner you’ll be able to sleep through the night. You won’t grow if you don’t sleep.” Gregory rolled his eyes and Ven just chuckled, sitting back and taking a deep breath. He relaxed and withdrew mentally, feeling the slight mental brush of Vincent drifting past to take over as he faded into sleep.

“Before we begin, I have to remind you of the starting procedure, just so we’re all on the same page,” Vincent said calmly, eyes kept mostly closed as he remained relaxed in his chair, “Gregory, you relax and let yourself feel like you’re getting ready to sleep. I’ll connect with my Remnant and knock to let you know I’m ready to enter your dream.”

“Okay, just remember. It’s not scary, just.. weird,” Gregory repeated with a slight strain on his voice, “So, maybe it really isn’t that deep. I’m only doing this cuz Vanessa doesn’t sleep well without Sydney and I kinda feel bad taking him away so much.”

“Oh my god, Gregory, I’m fine,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, flopping back on the sofa while Sydney just gave her a fond grin, like he was used to being pulled back and forth between them.

“Relax, and rest,” Vincent said again firmly, reaching out with his Remnant to gently touch onto Gregory’s mind, prodding at his defenses to be let in. There was a slight bit of resistance, then a pull, and then everything went dark.

.

===

.

The neon color Vincent expected was far muted than usual, the Pizzaplex atrium thick with fog clinging to the walls and drifting around the floor, obscuring the 80’s aesthetic of the building. As he waited for the check Gregory’s mind did to be sure he was safe -the static felt oddly pricklier than usual-, he watched the performance on the stage with uncertainty. Something seemed.. off.. about it.

Glamrock Freddy wasn’t front and center this time; instead he was more towards the back of the stage, sitting on the floor in the shadows of the curtains and looking down at his feet, head tilted aside as if in contemplation. The space he usually took was left empty, though there was the faintest shadow of something moving in his place, bear-shaped but not quite. Vincent could only really see the edges of some figure, where the spotlight could catch for a moment, outlining ears, a hat, a microphone clutched in a hand.

Chica played her guitar with the same enthusiasm, often sweeping her hand up into a gesture that looked like she was holding something there, palm up and flat, while she swayed in place. On the other side of the empty space, Monty barely played his own guitar, plucking at strings stiffly and looking away from the empty space. His jaws were taped shut, bound in several layers of silvery color, as if whoever did that didn’t trust him to have an open mouth for any amount of time. There was a faint and flickering ghost-like figure transposed over him, edges appearing in the light like the shadow in Freddy’s place to show longer, taller ears over his head, like a rabbit was meant to be there.

Roxy also seemed less energetic as she played her keytar, her hand on the keys held strangely, fingers pressed together tightly and curled over the ivories, shaped like she was trying to scoop at them and tapping with just her fingertips one key at a time. Her tail curled close to her legs, her chin tucked close to her chest, as if she was trying to shrink in on herself and be overlooked, so different from her known bold and brash personality that painted her as the tough gal of the group.

The prickling faded and Vincent breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing at his arms to disperse the feeling as he began walking. As usual, Gregory wasn’t anywhere to be seen right away. The boy tended to be where the scene of the nightmare took place and Vincent had to explore to find it or call out for a guide. With how strange the dreamscape was looking, maybe a walk would reveal more clues to what was going on?

He stretched his Remnant out to prod at the band on stage, trying to read the emotions building the images, the memory. Just a passing gesture, harmless, but he paused at the returning prickling feeling that met his touch. Whatever was composing the Glamrocks on stage in this very different formation, it seemed Gregory’s defenses refused to share why the change happened. Vincent withdrew the trail of Remnant with a puzzled frown; it wasn’t really part of the issue he was here to address but he just noted it for later discussion.

The stairs to the next level of the atrium seemed a good bet until he actually got to them and found security gates blocking his access. He folded his arms over his chest and frowned harder. What was going on?

A loud clap sounded in the air and lights went out at one end of the atrium. Vincent looked up in concern, watching as row after row of lights shut off with the same loud clap until the whole building was plunged into shadows. The only source of illumination now were the emergency lights, glowing faintly red from hidden spots all around the structures. The music had long faded and Vincent was left wondering what Gregory would do next.

Had he actually fallen asleep?

The fog poured down the stairs from the upper levels of the atrium and he stepped back hurriedly, preparing his Remnant to defend himself. He watched with alarm as the levels melted down with the fog, as though they were being eaten away and letting the fog cascade down in sheets. It washed over the floor, roiling in far thicker mass and flowing around Vincent’s feet, swallowing his ankles and flowing up in a cloudy wave over his shins. The shock of sudden guilt and regrets from the contact hammered at Vincent’s thoughts and senses, staggering him before he could reinforce himself. A lance of fear, of dread, shot through him and he dropped to his knees, hands clutching at his heart as he breathed hard, shallow but even.

What was happening?!

He was still breathing, trying to get himself under control, as he stared up at the fog solidifying into walls and attractions, smaller than what’s often seen in the Pizzaplex. A carousel, dilapidated and broken down; kiddie rides in the shapes of a bear, a bird, a rabbit whose head lay on the floor, a fox colored half red and half grey, all stood in a row, paint chipping and fading; black and white tile in a familiar pattern on the floor reflected decades of scuff marks and stains from management that no longer cared about the place.

Vincent’s gaze traced over the attractions in faint confusion. Damien had said Gregory had been looking into information about Mike Schmidt and the Bite of ‘87, so clearly some of that research was bleeding into his dreams. But this.. it felt too close like having been in the building. And why was it so dark?

Giggles sounded in the air as a chill crept over him and his breath stuttered. Ghostly figures of children floated through the remade pizzeria, moving as though frolicking. Their laughter clawed at him, and one voice that no one else should have known -so how, how, did her voice end up here?!- inflicted so much pain Vincent didn’t even realize the weight of it until he was struggling to hold himself up from the floor with the entirety of his forearms. A thin film of water over the checkered diner tile reflected his devastated expression.

“..Please..,” he found himself whispering, “Please, stop. M-my daughter.. just give her back... I’ll do anything.. just give her back.”

Why was she here? How was she here? Her voice, laughing darkly, haunting these halls. Trapped here because of...

Jonathan’s curse as The Influence.

Rage flashed through him, hot and irrational, and was just as quickly snuffed out as a sob escaped him. He had already been through those nightmares, felt the guilt and the shame from the man who admitted his fear had empowered him to hold all those souls in place, desperate to give them life by rejecting death and blind to the understanding he kept them all from moving on.

But it still hurt, so, so much...

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t get up, crushed under the weight of grief, and all he could think was how tired he felt. The realization that he never really healed himself.. and now this. If he couldn’t pull himself together, if he lost himself to Gregory’s mindscape, what would happen to Ven and Stephanie? He was the other side of their souls; they were supposed to be able to live on without him, but what would the spiritual damage be? Could he risk their destruction with his want to just collapse here in the memory of his daughter’s laugh and never get up?

Yes, that’s right. Gregory’s mindscape. He was here to find out why the boy was having a recurring strange dream. Was this part of it? The old Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place, the Bite of ‘87, the Missing Children Incident; Gregory looking into the past must have constructed all this, so real and so close to reality that it even fooled him.

Slowly, laboriously, Vincent pushed himself back up to his knees, rubbing his face with both hands until his tears were dry and he could shove the rest back in and down where he could pin a lock in place for now and deal with it later. Better not to think about how the children had been reborn, not to think about Violet among them, not to think about how his daughter was still far out of reach, keeping her distance for whatever reason. He was here for Gregory’s sake, his personal issues were a problem for future Vincent.

He took another deep breath, shaky but calmer, willing his Remnant to return to the tranquil coolness that soothed minds. A faint echo of steps caught his attention and Vincent turned his head to watch what looked very much like a funereal procession heading down the hall towards the room he was in. There was a tall and slender figure, cloaked in black, a plastic orange beak poking out of the shadows of their cowl pulled low over their head. Gregory walked beside her, slouched and far less exuberant and energetic than he tended to be.

He looked almost drained of life, his face pale, eyes dim and flat. He had one hand up, held by the cloaked figure as they walked together at his pace, slow and shuffling. Vincent watched the two of them approach in confusion, cautiously getting to his feet. Should he approach them or wait? He tried to take a step, but couldn’t lift a foot, as though he’d been locked in place.

“Wait, what?” he murmured in alarm, pulling at his legs to try and get them moving. He tried wrapping his own Remnant around himself to isolate from the dream, freeing himself from the lock, but that didn’t seem to take effect either. Was his own will not enough? How strong was this kid’s mental focus to carry things out to the end?

Since Vincent couldn’t move, he could only watch the scene play out and try to figure out what he was seeing. The cloaked figure and Gregory continued walking into the games and attractions room. As they drew closer, a soft yellow light began glowing in the corner of his eye, catching his attention. He looked towards it, sucking air through his teeth in shock at the dull gleam of a burnished gold coffin resting on the checkered tile. Surrounding it were statues clad in colored hooded robes all in varying bent forms, leaning over the open coffin. Nearby was another figure, laid out on the floor with a larger statue bent over them as if to guard them.

Why was that coffin so large? It was sized for a full grown man, but the figure on the floor didn’t appear to be the intended person for it. Briefly Vincent wondered if he was to be put into it and tried again to get his legs moving. Gregory and the cloaked figure walking with him finally reached where he was but neither of them paid him any attention. As if he wasn’t even there.

“Gregory! Hey! If you’re locking me in, let me out! I can’t start unraveling the illusion here until you do!” Vincent called out to him. The boy didn’t even pause, just blinked as he glanced at him and kept walking on towards the coffin.

Wait, was it meant for Gregory then? Was this the recurring dream? A funeral procession in a pizzeria?

Vincent watched in greater confusion as the cloaked figure helped Gregory step into the coffin and lay back into it, the boy just looking up at the ceiling. The figure reached up to the beak on their face, popped it out of place, then held it in one hand as they bent to press a makeshift kiss to the boy’s head before stepping back to kneel in solemnity. Only then did whatever was anchoring Vincent in place release and he stumbled forward in surprise.

None of this made sense. Vincent drew closer, already trying to keep his steps quiet in the face of the funereal scene. His Remnant spread over the scene, tugging at everything to pull up the illusion, but nothing was coming apart. So, this was reality? This was the true memory?

“But this.. this never happened to you. How can this be truth?” Vincent muttered, lowering himself to one knee as he placed a hand on the coffin. It felt solid and real, the emotions of fear, regret, anger, and despair layered onto it made perfect sense to associate with coffins and caskets like this. But how would there be one inside a pizzeria? “Gregory?” he called again.

The boy lay in the coffin, one arm draped over his stomach, hand resting lightly against his side as he slowly opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling again. “Told you it was weird,” he said quietly, his voice dull and lackluster, “Not my first time in here. Don’t like how cramped it is.”

Vincent frowned at his words and looked at the interior of the coffin. Again, it was sized for a full grown person, and Gregory barely took up a third of the space. Actually.. wait, what was that pattern? Vincent narrowed his eyes at some linework etched into the interior of the coffin, dividing it into three segments. There was a section at the ‘head’ of the coffin, the middle section for the torso and arms, and the final section for the legs. Gregory had been placed into that middle section with plenty of space above and below him.

“According to my detection all of this is already truth,” Vincent muttered, looking around at the bent over statues, “There isn’t any illusion to dispel. So what does this mean?” Of the statues surrounding the coffin, one was dressed in a white and pink cloak, the black cloaked figure who brought Gregory in remained closest to him, and one that was bent over the head of the coffin was in a black and white striped cloak. That left the last two figures of the scene nearby.

Vincent got back up to investigate those two figures, the large statue was covered in a tattered purplish cloth, a solid black faceplate over its head making it appear like looking into a void. It didn’t move as he approached, still bent over the figure laying on the floor. Now that he was closer, he could recognize them as Jeremy Fitzgerald, likely as Gregory had last seen the man in his workshop. Dressed in a long-sleeve sweater and work jeans, hair tied in his usual ponytail, the animatronic engineer seemed to be unconscious but otherwise unharmed. Vincent reached down to press fingertips against his neck to check for a pulse as well as check the emotions building the man’s appearance.

Still alive, and with the expected emotions of care and love. Gregory really adored and admired his mentor in engineering. And yet this scene was still ‘truth’ to Vincent’s attempt at pulling apart illusions. How? Jeremy hadn’t recently been in a state like this. Was this something that happened in the past?

“But he’s never mentioned anything like this happening,” Vincent mused aloud, standing back up to study the scene, fingers curled over his chin. And the way his Remnant was responding to it all meant this was something Gregory remembered. So how did he experience something no one else did? Especially something as nonsensical as being put in a coffin in a pizzeria. Did this happen in the Pizzaplex? “No, Jeremy was with Damien the whole time,” he answered himself, “He would have known if something happened, and Jonathan wouldn’t let anything happen to his son if he could help it.”

So how was this real?

“A child understands things differently. Complex matters broken down into simpler forms,” Vincent muttered, taking a few steps back to squint at the large cloaked statue. Tattered purple cloth; maybe that was a clue? Same as the black faceplate. He tried to take mental notes on everything. If Jeremy was involved, asking for his perspective could help clarify things.

Distressed whimpering from the coffin pulled his attention back to Gregory, and Vincent hurried to check on the boy. His eyes had grown wide and panicked, one hand gripping at his side and the other now grabbing the edge of the coffin. “I don’t like the way it ends!” Gregory blurted as soon as Vincent came into view of him, “I need to wake up! I gotta wake up right now!”

“Why? What happens next?” Vincent asked him, looking around quickly for any threats approaching. The room remained exactly the same and yet Gregory grew even more distressed.

“The monster gets him if I don’t wake up!” he exclaimed, struggling to sit up from the coffin, “Look! Look!” Vincent reached in to help him get up as he glanced over the room again. Still no changes, except he could feel the checkered tile under his knees give way to the feeling of asphalt and concrete. And once he detected that, the room began growing dimmer and dimmer, fading into shadows as the soft gleam of moonlight passed over the floor.

It looked more like parking spaces than tile.

“What the hell?” Vincent muttered, wincing as Gregory clawed his way up his arm, the boy screaming in panic.

“Wake up! Wake up! The monster’s coming!” he wailed, one hand reaching out towards something moving in the shadows far beyond their sights. Vincent pulled him free of the coffin, setting him on the ground just as a bubble of Remnant rushed out from him in a pressure wave that slammed the guard back and away. Senses dulled and muted, Vincent flailed in a void that was both full and empty of various emotions until he felt himself thrown out of the dreamscape completely.

.

====

.

He came to with a pounding headache, hands pressed to his temples as he cracked one eye open in time to see Gregory bolt from his couch and practically lunge across the room towards Sydney and Vanessa. The two of them looked alarmed as Gregory slammed into Sydney, wailing as he hugged the man tightly.

“What happened?!” Vanessa demanded, one hand quickly going to the boy’s head to offer comforting strokes.

“I don’t know!” Vincent replied, doubled over in his chair as he tried to will his headache away. His arm felt scratched up from Gregory’s nails digging into him, which meant Ven was going to be pissed off yet again. “I’m still trying to make sense of his dream, but he panicked at the last phase. Something about needing to wake up before a monster got to someone?” The ache dulled to a faint throb after a few moments and he sat back with an exhausted sigh. Good enough.

“We’ve seen plenty of ‘monsters’ already,” Vanessa told him flatly, “and Gregory didn’t react like this to them.”

“Those were his words,” Vincent countered sharply and winced again, rubbing his forehead, “From what I could tell, the dream seems to be based on a memory, but there weren’t any illusions on it. I’ll have to figure out what he translated from reality into the images in his dream because trying to pull them apart in his mind didn’t do anything.” He gestured at Gregory, who seemed to be burying himself into Sydney’s hug with a scowl, teary-eyed but refusing to cry. “Considering that you said that Gregory immediately goes looking for Sydney to get hot chocolate after experiencing the dream, I’m just going to assume he means the monster in his dream goes after Sydney.”

“So the hot chocolate is just his way of making sure Sydney’s okay,” Vanessa realized with a blink of surprise, sharing a glance with the young man who only gave her a confused expression. “What sort of monster does Gregory think is after him? Sydney, did you piss someone off the last time you did mercenary work?” She frowned at his shrug and kept running her fingers through Gregory’s hair. “Huh, even if you did, how would Gregory know about it?”

“The complicated issue is the timing and placement,” Vincent told them, leaning tiredly on the arm of his chair. “Whatever leads to his fear for Sydney’s safety, there’s a golden coffin, a pizzeria, and Jeremy involved.”

“Mr. Fitzgerald? A coffin?” Vanessa echoed in confusion, “There wasn’t anything like that in the Pizzaplex.” She frowned again, “At least, not that I can remember, and Vanny kept erasing my memories. Sydney, was there ever a gold coffin in the Pizzaplex?”

Sydney shook his head, chin resting on Gregory’s head as the boy curled up against his chest in hiccups. Vincent watched them all and sighed. So no clues from them on what the symbols in the dream meant. Jeremy would have to be his source of information then.

“It doesn’t look like I can affect the dream until I understand the meaning of it first, so that’s gonna take me a bit of time to research,” he explained to the makeshift little family, “As for advice for the time being, there are these bracelets that monitor heartbeats remotely. Gregory likes checking cameras on that watch of his, right? Sydney, how about you wear a heart monitoring bracelet and let Gregory connect an app to it on his watch or phone?” He gestured to the boy who seemed to perk up at the suggestion. “This way he can instantly check on your condition from his room to reassure himself without disturbing himself or you two from being able to go back to sleep. It’ll be temporary, until we can sort out why this dream comes up for him.”

“I like that idea. Let’s do that,” Gregory agreed immediately and Vanessa sighed.

“Well, if you think it’ll help, I suppose we can buy one,” she relented and gave Vincent a weak smile. “Thank you for trying. When’s the next appointment?”

“I’d like to resolve this as soon as possible, so come back same day and time next week,” he told her as they began getting up to leave. He managed to get to his feet to walk them out. “I’ll make some calls, see if I can get Jeremy to tell me anything about any situation that could be similar to Gregory’s dream. We should have answers by then.”

Goodbyes were said and then they were gone, leaving Vincent alone as he closed the door and headed back to get a first aid kit to treat his arm. He frowned to himself at the amount of force that had been thrown at him by Gregory to get him out of the dreamscape. There were still inconsistencies there, questions he wondered over regarding that dream. How was Gregory’s will that strong for a kid? Why did that dream feel so much older than it should have been?

And why did Gregory fear for Sydney when the man was nowhere to be seen in the dream?

“What a strange child,” he finally muttered, and went on to look for the kit.