#which is still better than the other one (the one who just burned shit in my skillet) who once saw me cleaning and asked if he could help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojisun · 3 months ago

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it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

!! fluff & angst; simon’s pov; simon’s insecurities; vague descriptions of violence; repeating allusions to past child abuse; parenthood; f!reader // wc: 3.5k // dividers by @/plutism!

a spinoff of the apple that rolled over to the tree

simon’s not a good man, but he concedes that there are just certain circumstances where you have to be the good man. where you have to bleed and burn through, and sacrifice a shit ton because that’s what being good is.

case in point: the child, who couldn’t be any more than two, bundled in his arms as the squad tries to come down from the adrenaline after a dangerously high-tension exfil.

“where,” johnny pauses, breathing deeply, quick fingers unlatching any tight strapping that’s making it difficult to gulp in air. “where ye dumpin’ the brat?”

it’s callously said, but they all know johnny’s meant it in a place of worry—which is founded, by all accounts, because the base is a terrible place to care for a two year old toddler. no one’s even equipped to deal with the boy, not with the mission still on its last legs; granted, the winding dregs would only require their captain, maybe garrick for backup, to finish but nothing is ever certain.

but—

the boy shifts on his lap, big brown eyes staring up at simon with unfathomable trust. like the sight of his mask, and weapons, and even having seen him in action—poised guns and clean shots on the head; unfazed eyes scanning the explosion of brain matter spilling he’s caused—was not petrifying.

simon knows what they say about ghost—the living boogeyman; the harbinger of death and destruction. and yet here the little boy is, looking up at him like simon isn’t anything other than man; like simon is something so human.

simon thinks about his place back home that’s dancing close to the outskirts of the city; he thinks about its picket fence and its brick walls and its big backyard.

he thinks about its love, forged from the softest hands that simon’s ever held; from the hands of the only one that simon’s ever loved.

“i’m bringin’ ‘im ‘ome.”

laswell was kind enough to pull some strings so that the boy has whatever legal documents he needed so simon can bring him back safely—passport, citizenship papers… adoption documents.

jacob emory riley. (yakov in russian. yasha.) he’s simon’s ward now. his son.

(laswell had congratulated him with crinkled eyes and the softest of smiles; it might just be the first simon’s ever seen her look so at peace.

somehow, it was that brief talk with laswell that made everything feel tangibly raw; simon realized that things got too real too fast, and that he found himself almost wanting to reverse everything he’d done so far because what if he wouldn’t be a good guardian to the child? what if simon’s too broken for the child? what if—

his thoughts stuttered, quaking until they reach a tentative halt because the boy closed his little fist around the entirety of simon’s finger. he was so small, like that, and still so blindingly trusting even with all the littering scars on his little arms and little legs. he held onto simon so fiercely, he didn’t even notice the turmoil in simon’s heart. or how simon had almost given him away in an act of his cowardice because simon is a coward. especially with this.

but jacob—

but yasha held him, chose him, and the storm raging in his head died down, petering into a quiet chill until simon could bite out a weak but not any less genuine, “thank you,” to laswell.

laswell stared at him, all-knowing as always, before bidding him and yasha a sweet goodbye.)

the boy responds better with the diminutive, all giggly and grabby hands as he toddles over simon. the rest of the squad had eased into their roles, battle-worn bodies turning into the softest cushions with yasha in their arms. he is a shy little thing, hiding behind simon’s leg whenever price would come visit, or refusing to be put down from simon’s arms or even make eye contact with mactavish when it’s his turn to babysit.

garrick was a different story altogether. yasha had looked at him once, studying with such inquisitive curiosity, before deeming his sergeant the safest after simon. he’d grumbled and cooed and begged for uppies—garrick had been all too pleased to give it to him.

which is why saying goodbye now is difficult.

yasha would not stop crying, pale face all blotchy and snotty as he wails, chubby arms thrashing, trying to reach for kyle, but the sergeant and their captain are already suited for the mission, ready to leave the moment simon and johnny and little yasha do.

“ky! ky!” he cries out, unable to fully say kyle’s name but trying so desperately because his grief is so much bigger than himself.

simon bounces him on his hip, trying to calm the little tyke down, but shrill wails pierce their ears, unstoppable, and he wonders if it was too cruel to have made him say goodbye to kyle and price. simon heard from the medic that it was healthy for children to cry, but yasha sobs like he is grieving, and simon can’t fault him—this is his first, and hopefully his last for a long while, experience of abandonment. sure, they’ve all told him that kyle would just be gone for a while, but yasha is a child, unable to reconcile such reality where his uncle isn’t flying home with him.

(they didn’t mention the fragility of their lives in their line of work; how, every time they suit up, there are chances that they’ll never return. yasha is too young for such reality.

‘sides, kyle promised to come back. so he has to.)

kyle is teary-eyed, so is mactavish, and simon presses his sorry’s and his reassurances on yasha’s inky black hair, while kyle makes a vow once more.

“don’t worry, son,” their captain croons, his face creased in the softest it has ever been. “i promise i’ll bring your uncle back in one piece.”

yasha sniffles, watery brown eyes not looking away. then, “o’ay.” he lifts an arm up, waving it cautiously. “buh-bye?”

“yeah, bubsy,” their captain replies because no one can, not kyle who is crying nor simon who can’t lift his face up from where he’s breathing in his son’s baby smell. “bye bye.”

“buh-bye,” yasha repeats, still quiet but more sure. “ky? buh-bye?”

kyle chuckles wetly. he steps forward and pinches yasha’s cheek. “bye bye, little man. see you in two weeks, okay?”

yasha hums, having grown exhausted from his emotional outburst. the base shrink said that’s normal for children; that it’s good when they’re emotional, it’s healthy, so simon bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from fussing.

instead, as a distraction, he nods at his captain and his sergeant, and he and mactavish turn to leave.

“daddy?” the little tyke asks.

“yeah?” simon replies, turning his full attention to yasha.

“buh-bye?”

“oh, son no,” simon murmurs. “daddy’s always goin’ t’be with you.”

yasha nods, and flops back down on simon’s chest, satisfied.

the flight was tedious, sprinkle the listless child with that, and it was just about draining. he couldn’t thank johnny enough for being with him throughout because being an uncle to tommy’s kids didn’t teach simon much about this—cranky and emotional two year-old’s, and their complicated tastebuds that almost made it impossible to feed them aeroplane food, and their odd sleeping patterns.

but as simon shoots yasha a glance, watching the boy sleep peacefully finally, he thinks to himself how it’s all so worth it.

johnny doesn’t follow them to prestwich, crashing instead somewhere in stratford before making his way back to dundee. yasha hadn’t cried as hard for johnny as he did when he said goodbye to kyle, but he’d been teary-eyed even when he refused to be given to his sergeant’s waiting arms. still, simon’s boy had been solemn and gave mactavish a weak wave.

simon tells yasha that johnny would come back in two weeks’ time too, with the captain and garrick, before trailing off when he realized he doesn’t know how to tell yasha exactly why johnny was giving them space.

shit, he hadn’t even thought about how yasha would react when—

the house appears past barren trees, and simon’s lungs constrict in one full swoop. god, he’s missed this place, very much so.

pinpricks fill the back of his eyes, and he desperately blinks them away as he tries swallowing past the lump in his throat, but not even the familiar warmth of yasha could ground simon back. rather, the reminder that simon’s not returning on his own this time makes everything feel a lot more intense, like ragged tendrils curling at the base of his neck, grasping him until reality and faraway dreams blend into something miasmic.

simon’s never once deluded himself with thoughts of having his own family. he once thought he’d go grey on his own, something he was perfectly fine with because nothing is ever sacred—the catholics had a word for it, johnny said, how one’s mere existence was the original sin, and simon is neither a pagan nor a believer, but when you grow up with shadows that are ever so perpetually haunting, you learn that not even the sign of the cross can truly ward off the demons.

but then, his beloved appeared before him—just as… fearful; as self-punishing as he had been, and he knows it was twisted but he had been pulled. he had been lulled into the weight of your gravitational force, dragging his heart until it was homesick for anything less.

(two words have never sounded sweeter to him before.

i do.

since then, he’s never hunger for more.)

(until yasha.)

the cab stops, the driver dutifully ignoring how simon must look, all brooding and emotional as he holds his child close, like if he blinks, someone would take him away. he tips generously, and declines any offer of helping with the unloading of bags in the trunk. simon didn’t even bring much, just a travel bag and a rucksack stuffed with as many travel essentials for yasha.

the boy is asleep again, exhaustion dragging him back to his dreams. he looks so peaceful like this, and younger too, and simon knows that isn’t a good thing because yasha’s so small for a two year old. simon’s only comfort is that he’s bringing him somewhere safe; a place filled with boundless love.

he walks to the front door, debating on whether he should just take the spare key underneath the nondescript potted plant to get in or just bite the bullet and introduce yasha to you like this, through the entrance.

the choice is taken from him when you swing the door open, surprise and disbelief lining your face.

“i saw you—” you say at the same time that he rasps out, “love—”

he beckons you to go first. you did so with a tremor in your voice.

“i saw you from the cameras,” you pause, roving your wide eyes over him, before stopping at the bundle he’s carrying. “haley helped me set them up—said you can, uh, get notification of movements outside and, and…”

he watches as you realize that you’re about to ramble, so you take a deep breath, finding the centre of your gravity, before, “baby? who…”

simon adjusts his hold on yasha, before a careful hand sweeps away the blanket so you can see the boy better.

“this,” he says, quiet and fragile. “this is our son, jacob emory riley.” he licks at his chapped lips, the word ‘our’ settling so warmly in the pit of his stomach. “our yasha.”

“oh,” you whimper instantly, tears already springing from your eyes. a choked sound gets stuck on the back of your throat before you’re rushing forward, careful to not jostle the tyke awake, until you’re pressing yourself against simon’s side, watching raptly.

“simon he’s—” you hiccup, rubbing your face on his shoulder. “darling, he’s perfect.”

simon ducks down to brush his lips on the crown of your head, humming deep because yeah, he is. but so are you—and he wouldn’t have done this, anyway, without you. because yasha deserved the best and simon doesn’t know anyone who could step up other than you.

you, who is so bright and joyful; who has crafted fortitude from the ragged shards of your pain.

you, who is the strongest person that simon’s ever met; how you could look at the storm and find a reason to dance.

you, who is so beautiful and lovely, and so utterly full of love that it spills into everyone you meet and everything you do.

yasha deserves you.

and, love, you deserve a family just like this too.

yasha wakes up and simon makes the mistake of not being there for him. he didn’t even know he accidentally slept in the living room, long body sprawled on the couch gracelessly. he jolts awake after the loud ring of cries, the fear he felt at hearing yasha’s familiar sobbing slams so fiercely into simon’s heart.

he topples to the ground, knees thudding against the hardwood floors, before he bolts up, frantic as he tears through the house, trying to find his boy, desperate to comfort him and to apologize and to make things right because he never wants yasha to feel so alone in his new home—

simon pauses, feet stopping just in front of the bedroom where you and simon had put yasha in since the guest room has yet to be baby proofed and prepared, when he hears your familiar croon.

“shh, darlin’. you’re alright, i promise.”

simon angles himself so that he can see through the ajar door. you’re kneeling on the floor, head a few feet away from where yasha’s is pillowed. the boy is staring at you with wide eyes, wet and red, but he’s no longer wailing, and simon wonders if it’s because yasha’s internalizing his fear, but then he sees the tyke make grabby hands at you—pudgy fists closing, then opening again. he seems like a baby like this, more than a toddler, and simon watches as you coo, inching closer, giving yasha room to roll away if he wants, but the boy turns to his side, facing you properly, and it’s all the confirmation you need to take him in your arms.

you rise up from the floor, yasha perched on your hip. the boy is still watching you, curious, and you murmur something too faint for simon to hear, before wiping at his wet cheeks and his runny nose.

“hi, love,” you murmur, voice a tad quiet. simon sees the hesitance in your gait, like you don’t know what else to say. it takes a heartbeat, before you’re uttering your name, voice curling around the vowels the way simon never gets tired of hearing.

“i’ve heard good things about you, you know?” you say, brushing the pad of your finger along the bridge of yasha’s nose. simon’s ears pick up huffing sounds, then your giggles, and yasha’s hum.

“oh, i sure did,” you add, smiling, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “simon said you’re the best boy ever!”

simon did, he guesses, say that but with more words—he told you how he found yasha, and how yasha had been so brave after such a stressful change in his life; how yasha had been so excited to learn and to trust, and how he’d brighten up everyone’s day back at the base; how yasha had first called him daddy, and the others unca’, his brave little boy so eager for a family that he made one even when all he’s surrounded with was a ragtag of broken men.

yasha is truly such a beautiful boy, so darling and loving.

“si-‘on?” yasha says, attempting simon’s name.

“yeah,” you reply, just as choked up as simon is. “simon… your daddy.”

yasha hums, fist curling up your shirt.

“daddy,” he repeats, nodding. then, like he remembers that simon isn’t there, yasha begins to look distraught again, whining, looking up to you like you hold the answer when he asks, “daddy where?”

simon takes that chance to walk in. you two whirl to look at him, both with pained faces easing up into the loveliest of smiles just at his mere presence. it makes simon feel… raw; that somehow, all he needs to be is himself, and it’s enough to brighten up the room.

his lips twitch up in his own smile too.

“hey there, kid,” he greets, slotting himself to your side so he can pull you close and be in yasha’s line of sight.

you turn, moving to pass yasha to him, but the boy’s hand is still tight on your shirt and he still looks at ease with you, and simon nuzzles his face on the top of your head in comfort when he sees the way your lips wobble at yasha’s easy display of trust.

“daddy!” yasha cheers. “you here!”

simon ruffles the soft tufts of yasha’s hair. “of course. did you nap good?”

yasha nods, distracted by the bright colours on the bed. the yellow pillows and the baby blue blanket.

the dog stuff toy.

yasha gasps, utterly delighted, and he wriggles out, begging to be put down, and you and simon watch as he runs to the side of the bed, plucking the toy out with a giggle.

“towy!” he says, showing it to you and simon.

simon files the name for next time, focusing on yasha as he runs to hug simon’s leg, then yours, before running back to the bed, chatting animatedly to the toy.

simon pulls you close, slotting your back to his front to bury his face on the crook of your neck, because this, right here, is change. but also, he’s home.

“i missed you,” he murmurs, because it is the only thing he can verbalize. he wants to say more—he wants to say how he’s never once stopped thinking about you, how he’s always kept a picture he has of you in his helmet, tucked under the crown pad, how he’d always toy with his ring when he has the chance because simon is made of many things, and one of them is your love.

but this is all that forms from his lips, inadequate, but then simon hears the twinkle of your laughter, and, “i missed you too, love.” and knows, there needn’t be any more words. not when you two have more time than he’s ever had the privilege to spend.

the first time yasha calls you his mom—“mommy!”—was just days before the squad was set to meet the riley’s in their residence.

it was a mundane day; you and yasha are in the living room, playing with his army of anatoly’s—towy—when yasha squeals, finally able to dig out his favourite anatoly from underneath the couch after futile attempts. you’ve asked him if you can help him with it, but he’d been so adamant, tutting the way simon does and it’s honestly so adorable that you let him have at it.

so you laughed at the sound of his happy trills, watching as he turns, running to you, saying, “mommy, towy look!”

he falls to your lap, humphing loudly and smooshing the turtle stuffie on your face, and all you can do is gather him close, trying not to cry in front of him but—

he’s called you mommy.

your little brave boy called you—

“mommy, sad?” yasha asks, readily giving you another treasure, saying the word so naturally like you were never anything else to him.

“no, sweet pea,” you reply, choked up with the weight of your joy. “mommy’s the happiest she’s been.”

you kiss his chubby cheek, breathing in his scent, before letting him squirm out of your hold so he can play with another anatoly, leaving you the turtle one. you hold it close, trying to ground yourself, but the happiness bloats and you feel floaty.

god, it is almost unimaginable.

(you tell it to simon later at night, and simon coos as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks.

“i’m so, so happy si,” you breathe out.

simon bumps his forehead to yours. “i am too, baby.”)

simon is not pouting, thank you very much. if anyone says otherwise, he’d like to go on record and say that they’re all a bunch of liars. yes, that includes his beautiful wife too because, again, simon is not pouting.

sure yasha has refused to detach himself from uncle kyle, but that doesn’t mean simon’s jealous, he swears.

“yer a lying scumbag,” johnny hisses at him because he’s been trying to get simon to admit that he’s jealous, which simon isn’t. “i’m on you, LT. i’m on you.”

“whatever ‘tavish,” simon grumbles, hands twitching at another hearty giggle that rings from where kyle is playing with yasha. “last i checked, the boy still runs away from you so, you know, start with that.”

“oh you motherfu—”

“boys,” price barked out, and simon and johnny cringe at the chastising voice of their captain. “language.”

johnny says something that no one picks up because he’s chewing on his words. simon sniffs, looking away only to meet your eyes. unabashed glee is bright on your face, and simon knows he would be hearing you teasing about this later on tonight.

simon scrunches his nose. you reply with a playful rolling of your eyes.

yeah, it’s a good day. and simon still isn’t pouting.

notes: it turned out to have heavier (?) parts than expected. also to clarify, yasha’s been picked up from a mission (the specifics were removed since things got a wee graphic). i’ve included a concept photo of simon and yasha, which was fun to use while reimagining! i hope u guys liked this <3 peace out and sm love mwah!!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #cod x reader #suns

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starhotchgf · 5 months ago

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A innocent Woman

Y/N is a virgin woman at 29 years old, but she never imagined that a gift from her best friend would make her get fucked by her co-worker, with whom she also shares an apartment. But I wouldn't be able to complain about the feeling of being completely ruined by the genius Spencer Reid.

warnings: use of toys, use of pet names, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don't do it), squirting and brief voyeur.

English is not my first language, so forgive any mistakes!

ps: Penelope is the best friend in the whole world.

Y/N was a virgin and that was a secret that only her best friend Penelope knew. She had known for less than a week, but she was still the only one who knew it besides her mother, who didn't act like a conservative mother like the others, because she was always trying to arrange sexual encounters for her daughter. She was already 29 years old, but she had never gone beyond kissing and touching herself with her ex-boyfriends. It wasn't something she saved for the right person, she just never saw the right opportunity to let her virginity go.

You weren't surprised when a package arrived at your apartment door on the morning of your weekend off. It had a note from Garcia. You smiled as you picked up the box and took it to your bedroom, imagining it was just a stupid book about sex and its health benefits, but your eyes widened when you saw what was inside the package. You hadn't been wrong to think of it as a book. There really was a book inside, but what caught your attention the most was the wide variety of sex toys that were also inside the box. She ran her fingers over one of the silicone vibrators and took it out of the box, startled by the size of the thing she was now holding in one hand. She looked at the details and felt her cheeks burning. She mentally thanked her roommate for not being there. Spencer would certainly think things about herself. She wouldn't have the courage to look him in the eye if he saw what she had in her hands.

She threw the sex toy on the bed and picked up the book, opening it to the page marked by a small iron clip. There was another note from her best friend inside. She felt like burying her face in the floor and never taking it out again.

I think you might like some of the things in here, but everything is better when tested with someone.

I hope you enjoy my gift. I'll want all the details. Don't hide from me the incredible pleasures that life gives us

You sat on the bed with the books in your hands, but not before closing the bedroom door. You flipped through the pages marked by Garcia and felt your breathing become labored at times, causing you to cross your legs automatically, your heart beating faster than usual. Your skin felt hot and knew it was red, but you didn't hesitate to take off your clothes and lie down on the bed, leaving the box with the other toys on the floor, the forgotten book on the dresser and the silicone vibrator in your hands, running it over your skin until you reached the place that was throbbing with anxiety. You had never felt anything like that before.

“Oh shit” You moaned, passing the toy over your wet lips, you felt like you were dripping, but that sensation wasn't enough. “Oh my God” You whimpered, pressing the vibrator to your aching clitoris, your eyes rolled back automatically, your legs opening and giving even more access to the light vibrations of the dildo. “This feels so good, yes”.

You couldn't think of anything coherent at that moment, just rambling with low words and a tone almost like crying in your voice, small, soft moans escaping through your parted lips. It was as if all your limbs were too heavy, your brain seemed to melt and your body convulsed, your eyes rolling and closing with the pleasure that spread throughout everything.

Your ears felt like they had cotton balls, which prevented you from hearing any sound other than your own moans. Your phone that was constantly ringing on the bed was forgotten, your boss worried on the other end of the line, but nothing other than your pleasure mattered at that moment, not when your body begged for an orgasm immediately.

…

“Dr. Reid” The man answered the phone, stopping the car on the side of the road so he wouldn't get a ticket. He had just left a lecture on serial killers in a criminology class, the students seemed too entertained, he had completely lost track of time, answering questions and doubts about the cases he solved in the BAU.

“Reid, it’s me, Hotch.”

“Oh sure, Hotch, is there a problem, do we have a case?” He asked, preparing himself for whatever his boss was going to say, even though his body was already begging for at least a good night’s sleep that weekend. “Do you want me to go to the headquarters?”

“No, we don’t have a case. Y/N isn’t answering the phone, I’ve called more than five times, then I remembered that you two share an apartment and I thought it would be best to ask for your help. Do you know why she’s not answering?”

“I don’t know, I’m not at home, I had a lecture this afternoon, but I’m already heading back to the apartment. I’ll check on whatever it is, I’ll call you to let you know, Hotch.”

“Thanks, Reid, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Spencer quickly turned off his phone and started the car again, hoping he wouldn't break any traffic laws as he ran to the apartment. Y/N didn't usually leave her phone off, she was always the first to answer Aaron when the man called, he couldn't imagine what could be happening. It took him 8 minutes to get to the apartment, fumbling with the set of keys as she opened the door with some desperation. He looked around the living room and everything was in its place, the woman's keys on the coffee table, her cell phone next to it, the lost flames appeared on the screen, but the device was still on. Spencer walked down the hallway and looked in his own room, which was still organized as when he had left, he turned around and walked to her room.

"Y/N? Are you there?" The man asked, knocking on the wooden door. Some murmurs didn't go unnoticed, Spencer arched his eyebrow, knocking on the door again. No response, the woman wasn't listening and the worst-case scenarios went through the doctor's head, who didn't hesitate to turn the handle and open the door.

The agent's eyes froze as he looked at the scene in front of him, his fingers still holding the doorknob and an expression of shock. Y/N was lying on the bed, a sheet thrown over her belly, her legs spread and her head thrown on the pillow, her lips parted in low moans and pleasurable murmurs. Her skin was sweaty, shining in the room's lighting, her hair spread and stuck to her forehead, her cheeks red and her toes curled.

"Holy shit," Spencer said, letting go of the doorknob. The woman opened her eyes in fright, pulling the sheet to cover her body completely, the man turned around, closing his eyes. "Sorry! Hotch was calling you and you didn't answer, we thought something had happened."

"Oh my God." You moaned embarrassed, throwing the toy on top of the wet sheets. Spencer just mumbled an apology and locked the door again, leaving you alone, with nothing but the embarrassment of being caught red-handed in that situation.

…

You didn't know how long you had been in the room, but you knew you couldn't stay locked in the place all day. A robe was thrown over your body, all the toys were thrown inside your wardrobe and the sheets were on the floor. You opened the bedroom door begging it not to make any noise, but the creaking of its lock was obvious throughout the apartment, as if it was seeping into every possible room, it was no different with the noises of the wooden floorboards, which creaked when you reached the living room.

Spencer turned to look at you, a cup of coffee in his hand and a small smile on his face, everything seemed normal. You adjusted the robe on your body and walked to the sofa, sitting a few inches away from the genie, who pointed to the cup on the table, the liquid was still hot. The man seemed to have guessed when you would leave the room, even after all the embarrassment from hours before.

“I already told Aaron that everything was fine and I fixed your report, it was just a wrong date, nothing too worrying, a typo.” The man said, taking another sip of the hot coffee. “Everything is fine between us, right? I’m sorry I came in, it’s just that I knocked and you didn’t answer, I thought you were hurt.”

“It’s okay, I should have locked it anyway. It wasn’t your fault, I think it was mine actually.” You laughed, your cheeks turning red as you remembered the look he was giving you. The agent just nodded, laughing at the thought that they would never be able to tell anyone about that.

“Are they new? There was a box in your room,” he said, so distracted that he at least measured his words before speaking. “You don’t have to answer, I didn’t think before I asked.”

“Okay. Yes, they’re new, they were actually a gift from Garcia, I guess she doesn’t have many filters when it comes to gifts, but it would be rude to refuse the act of affection.” You replied, crossing your legs in a way that moved the fabric of your robe over your skin. The genie didn’t hide his gaze, the smile on his face growing as he went up and met your eyes.

“Well, I guess you can’t say you didn’t like it. It would be a big lie, Y/N.” He murmured, drinking more liquid from the cup. “I would be a witness to your lie.”

“And I would be a witness to how paralyzed you were when you opened the door, Dr. Reid.”

“It’s not every day you see a needy little thing like you like that, it’s no surprise that I was paralyzed.” You spoke confidently, smiling and placing the cup of coffee on the table, so that he could stand up and stand in front of you. “Tell me, how many times did you cum with the help of that toy? You were so wet.”

You were staring at the genie with your eyes still, almost wide open as you realized the sexual confidence that Spencer exuded at that moment. He was looking at you with a sideways smile and dark eyes, so dark that you could get completely lost in them. The man touched her on the shoulder, the sleeve of her robe falling gently, revealing her unmarked skin, ready to be decorated by him and only him.

“Spence?” She asked, her eyes rising until they met his completely. “What-” Your speech was interrupted by the man, who bent down in front of you, his fingers touching the fabric of your robe until your skin was fully exposed from the waist down. Your intimacy was still wet, your previous orgasms still showing on your legs. You were embarrassed, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at the genie.

“Open your eyes, darling. I want you to watch as I devour you and make you cum in my mouth, I want to take every drop of pleasure from inside you, do you want that too? I bet you're so anxious, you can't even control yourself, so pathetically needy and hot.”

Your fingers flew to the man's hair as kisses began to be placed on your thighs, his hot breath hitting your intimacy only made you yearn even more for what was to come next. Spencer smiled, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin, just having fun with your anxiety. The agent wanted to test how devoted to him you could be when you were anxious to feel the least bit of pleasure he could give. You hoped the man didn't realize how much you would accept anything from him at that moment.

"Spence, please!" You whimpered, pulling the strands of your hair, bringing the man's face closer to your intimacy. "I need you."

"Do you need me?" He mocked, seeing a few anxious tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. The genius was being so mean to her, she felt like she could go crazy if he didn't put his mouth on her pussy soon.

It was only two seconds before a scream echoed through the room. It had come from her lips when the man finally started sucking on her intimacy. He seemed hungry, passing his mouth over each spot, leaving her even wetter than she already was. Her sensitive clitoris ached deliciously, her body writhed with the pleasurable sensation of having his lips on her needy pussy.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good at this.” Her eyes rolled back, her lips parted, with a trickle of saliva running down her chin. She felt like her brain was melting from the amount of pleasure she was feeling at that moment.

The man stuck his tongue inside her pussy several times, extracting every drop of pleasure that dripped from her entrance. But it was when his fingers found the spot that she felt her vision darken. It seemed like there were little stars in front of her, which grew larger as the genius curved his fingers inside her, hitting places she didn’t imagine possible.

The warm feeling in your stomach warned you how close a new orgasm was becoming, tears streaming down your eyes and joining the saliva that came out of your lips, everything seemed to be a big mess at that moment. But nothing mattered except the growing feeling that you were going to cum again, you writhed on the couch, scratching Spencer's shoulders and neck. The man moaned against your intimacy, sending vibrations that brought new things to your pleasure. Fuck, you felt like you were going to die at any moment.

“I'm-” A loud scream interrupted your speech, a squirt escaped from your intimacy, wetting the man's entire face and chest. You whimpered when he didn't stop, cleaning all the liquid that was still left on you at that moment. “Damn” You gasped, looking down, met the agent's surprised gaze and a small smile on the side. “It's my first time, at all, I've never done this” You confessed, closing your eyes in shame, you felt your cheeks heating up and knew you were blushing.

“No need to be shy, you just squirted in my face and because of me, you being a virgin only boosts my ego more. Fuck Y/N, can you even imagine how hot this is? Can I be your first?”

“Yes, I want you to be my first, please,” she begged, opening her eyes to meet the man’s. Spencer just smiled, standing up to pull her up, hard enough for her to jump on his lap, her legs entwined around his waist and her face close to his. The man had never looked so attractive as he did at that moment.

“Your first time won’t be on a couch, darling.”

…

Your back touched the soft mattress of Spencer’s bed, only the bedroom lamp was on, the curtains closed and the door ajar. The man smiled as he stood up, taking off his shirt, wet from his internal orgasm, and throwing it on the floor, leaving only the gray sweatpants he was wearing. You were enchanted by his lean, attractive body, his strong arms, but not so apparent, he was completely gorgeous, you felt like your eyes could be shining when you looked at him.

“Do you like what you see, darling?” He whispered, finally lowering his sweatpants. Only then did she realize the agent's lack of underwear, he had been without underwear the whole time. You were startled by how big he was, your lips parting in an anxious moan, she would be able to beg to have him inside her. "You need to be fucked so much, don't you? So needy, but I'll take care of you, just me" he said possessively, climbing onto the bed and crawling until he was between her thighs, her intimacy was still sensitive, but she longed for the man's cock inside her.

"Fuck me, I need you so much" she confessed, moaning at the end of her speech, she could no longer stand that heat of need and anxiety. "Inside me, I need you inside me" she begged when she saw that mocking look on Spencer's face, she knew exactly what he would ask if she hadn't said that right after.

"So smart, baby, so good for me. Begging like that makes me want to ruin you completely." He whispered, his lips touching hers tenderly. A kiss was initiated, a good enough distraction for the pain that slowly spread through the woman's intimacy. She closed her eyes and moaned between the kiss, tears pricking her eyes at the uncomfortable sensation. "Shh, it will pass soon." The minutes passed slowly, but she couldn't identify when the pain turned into pleasure. The man moved slowly, only slowly undulating his hips, delighting in the moan of pleasure that escaped his lips. Your eyes met in the middle of the movements, your lips opened in beautiful moans and small whimpers. You tried to move your own hips against his, but the man's hands on your waist prevented you from doing that. Spencer was having fun doing all the work there.

“You look so beautiful around me.” He moaned, hitting the bottom of your pussy with a stronger thrust, that took you to heaven and pulled you to hell in the same proportion. A scream escaped your lips when one of the man's hands went to your clit, making small circles and rubbing, increasing even more the stimulation that he felt with his cock. “If I knew it would be like this, I would have fucked you so long ago. Fuck, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you arrived at the BAU, always so beautiful, your eyes so innocent, I always knew what you were looking for.”

“Spence-” You moaned, choking on a sob as you felt so stimulated, your eyes spilling more tears down your red and wet cheeks. Your crying was pleasurable, your body contorting as if you were getting closer and closer to a new orgasm. You were going to milk the man's cock so well, every second would be worth it, all you wanted was to feel his cum inside your pussy.

The thrusts increased even more, their hips moving together, their moans echoing through the room and reverberating off the walls, they felt like they could wake up the entire neighborhood in that vulgar and pleasurable way.

She felt her vision go blurry when their lips met in a sloppy kiss, full of saliva, tears and disconnected moans from the pleasure that increased even more through her veins. Spencer didn't stop playing with her clitoris, while her nails scratched the man's back and neck, leaving obvious red marks.

The agent lowered his lips to her neck, biting and sucking wherever he could reach, covering her with marks that were impossible to be covered by any makeup she had. Her eyes closed when another orgasm took over her body, making her legs tremble and her arms completely lose their grip. Spencer didn't need anything else, he came inside her, moaning muffled against her neck.

Her body fell to her side, her panting breathing slowly regularizing. The man looked at her, taking a deep breath as he spread kisses across your face and shoulder. You moaned in satisfaction, curling up against his chest, resting your head lightly, your eyes closing in exhaustion.

“That was perfect,” she said, her voice hoarse from how much she had moaned, her eyes closed and her lips red from the kisses and bites. You were a work of art in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I won’t let you be anyone else’s, darling.”

“I don’t want to be anyone else’s, love.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dom spencer reid #sub reader

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strangesem · 1 year ago

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hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons

spider-punk x reader this is not a drill

long as hell I’m so sorry

a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)

I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!

most people didn’t notice you at first.

you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.

I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?

he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh

and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.

he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol

after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more

you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???

(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)

speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt

and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-

one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you

you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital

“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation

spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-

“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask

you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries

you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds

you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.

“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”

he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????

ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???

I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries

but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping

he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something

and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him

I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else

but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!

he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-

but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!

doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together

like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”

but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave

either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too

genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up

he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.

but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common

he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you

pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)

he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc

overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot

he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((

I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)

#not proofread #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #across the spiderverse #marvel #hobie brown x you

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 3 months ago

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Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

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yooniivrse · 5 months ago

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melted kisses | myg

summary. yoongi's kisses are always sickly sweet. but the taste of melted sugar on his lips makes you crave him more than the plate of sugar coated fruits.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship au

word count: 1.9k

summary: yoongi and reader makes tanghulu together / yoongi very midly burns himself / makeout session ensues after their cooking / reader is elementary school teacher

warnings: making out, allusions to sex

a/n: yay im finally finished with exams!!! this was supposed to be posted next week but it's bts' 11th anniversary so 😋 also im very sorry that the drabbes are jumping around in the timeline, i will eventually put them in chronological order

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main masterlist

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"I'm an amazing cook, I don't know what you're on about," Yoongi grumbled as he pulled your back closer against his bare chest. You whined as the cool metal of the silver necklace he wore pressed against your back which caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“I’m just saying. I’m not the one who blended chicken and other shit into a smoothie so I didn’t have to cook for the rest of the day.”

“That was one time. I’m a changed person now, love.”

"Whatever you say, babe."

You giggled softly and Yoongi huffed into your shoulder before he placed a soft kiss against your naked skin.

"You just can't admit that I'm a better cook than you."

You rolled your eyes at his words and turned your head slightly in an attempt to look at him. You could just about see his tired eyes that were closed shut.

"Fine. Next time we're both free, we're making tanghulu."

A lazy smile tugged at the corners of Yoongi's lips as his eyes scrunched into crescent moons.

"You were just waiting for an excuse to make tanghulu, weren't you?"

You hummed in response. You had mentioned the sweet snacks to him frequently, sending him numerous videos with recipes on how to make them.

"Yep. And you fell right into my trap," you giggled. You felt as Yoongi's body shook with airy laughter behind you.

"Ah, you're so annoying."

"You love me anyway," you said with a grin.

"I know," he whispered. He brushed aside your hair to press a kiss onto your temple and drifted off into a peaceful slumber within a few minutes.

────

In all honesty, Yoongi had completely forgotten about your agreement. He had thought you would too, as you were both too giddy and drunk on sex.

But when you arrived home after work the next day with a bag full of ingredients, the only words that stumbled from Yoongi’s mouth were to ask you why you hadn’t used his card to buy everything.

“It’s fine, I had cash on me,” you say, swatting away his words as you place the bag onto the marble countertops.

“Still.” Yoongi’s eyes watch your movements as you begin arranging all of the ingredients into different plates and bowls.

“Babe, it’s not like I’m poor or something. Plus, I’m the one forcing you to do this.”

A sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you look back at him, and he playfully rolls his eyes before making his way over to you.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest or something? You just came back from work," he says as you start cutting the leaves of the strawberries off.

"Mhm, I’m sure. Can you get the small pot for me? The one we used for ramen yesterday."

Yoongi obliges and places the pot on the stove. You take the bowl of strawberries and bring it under the sink to rinse them.

It wasn’t often that you would eat strawberries, always complaining about the millions of bugs within them. So when you did decide to have them, you made sure that they were squeaky clean even though it took more time. Yoongi thought they tasted the same either way, but never complained about your antics.

During the early stages of your relationship, you both rarely got to spend time with each other, whether it was due to his work life or your college classes. Your preferences and quirks meant that a few extra minutes could be spent in your presence, so it didn't bother him in the least.

He moves to the rest of the ingredients and spots three tangerines lying together in a glass bowl.

"You got tangerines?" he asks, taking one into his hands. He throws it into the air like a tennis ball and catches it with ease.

You nod eagerly, a smile plastered onto your face as you look up at him.

"You love them so I wanted to try them out along with the strawberries and grapes. If we end up not liking it, you can have the rest."

Yoongi simply smiles as you bring the freshly cleaned strawberries back to the counter, a familiar, warm feeling tugging at his heartstrings.

He listens to the recipe you read off from your phone and places half a cup of sugar into the pot of water to melt before making his way behind you. He wraps his arms around you and lightly squeezes your body.

He had missed the warmth of your skin against his, and the light smell of your signature perfume. He had even missed the way your voice melodically bounced off the walls of his usually silent home.

Was he being dramatic about you being gone for nine hours? Yes. Was he going to stop? No.

"How was work?"

He places a kiss against your neck before moving his head down to rest on your shoulder, his narrow eyes watching you work carefully.

"Good. A kid called me mom today and it was literally the cutest thing!"

He laughs softly as you place the knife down and bring your hands to your heart to emphasise your point.

"Mhm, that is cute."

A beat of silence passes before he whispers into your ear.

"I missed you."

It's embarrassing how fast the heat rises to your cheeks at his words, even after this many years of being together.

"I missed you too."

By the time you finish peeling the tangerines, cutting the strawberries and plucking the grapes off their stems, the sugar has fully melted. It would've taken half the time if you had an extra pair of helping hands, but you didn't want Yoongi's arms to move from where they rested around your waist.

Unfortunately, he's forced to peel away from your body as you lower the heat of the thick syrup and begin pushing the pieces of fruit onto skewers.

You playfully scold Yoongi whenever you catch him plopping one into his mouth before asking him to feed you one too.

"We need to stop, or there's gonna be none left by the end," Yoongi says, and you sigh in agreement.

Still, you sneak a slice of tangerine into your mouth, simply placing a peck on Yoongi's lips when he catches you.

In a few minutes, you have two plates filled with multicoloured fruits on skewers ready to be dipped.

You work carefully with the sugar syrup, and you’re surprised at how well the first few pieces turn out.

"See, I told you! I'm just such an amazing cook," you say, waving the freshly coated skewer in front of him.

"This isn’t even that hard. Here, let me try."

Yoongi moves you to the side and takes a skewer. He tilts the pot to the side and rolls the fruits into the syrup, thickly coating it. He then puts it into a bowl of ice water for it to cool and begins working on the next one.

This time, however, he happens to reach too far into the pot and manages to dip the tip of his finger straight into the melted sugar.

The hot substance takes a few seconds to do damage, giving Yoongi enough time to place the skewer into the water before swiftly pulling back his hand.

"Shit."

He wipes off the hardening liquid onto a small towel, but it leaves his skin red and angry.

"Babe, I told you to be careful! Are you OK?"

You step towards him and take his hand into yours. It wasn't serious, but there was now a tiny bump forming on the pad of his index finger.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It isn't even that big, see?"

"And? You still burned yourself," you huff.

Without another word, you look through the cabinets to find the burn ointment you had bought months ago as Yoongi protests.

"Seriously, love, it's fine. It doesn't hurt or anything."

"Still."

You successfully locate the ointment within your medicine box. You never really knew why Yoongi kept it in the kitchen, but his actions had proved useful.

You unscrew the cap and apply the tiniest amount onto his finger. He winces as you rub it into his skin, and you whisper an apology.

"There. Now, you've been fired as my co-chef and this also clarifies that I am clearly the better cook."

"That's not fair!"

"Sucks," you say with a shrug of your shoulders as you place the burn ointment back where you had found it.

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a playful scowl and moves to sit on the counter as you work on finishing the rest of the fruits.

Soon enough, the two plates are filled with fruits on skewers with a glassy finish to them. You watch a video to make sure you clean the pot of melted sugar properly and Yoongi offers to clean the rest of the kitchen up as you do so.

You reluctantly agree after seeing that his burn was starting to look less angry. After cleaning the pot and leaving it in the sink with a few other dishes from earlier in the day, you prop yourself onto the counter.

Yoongi finds himself standing between your legs not even a minute later, and you watch eagerly as you give him the first taste test.

His eyebrows scrunch together as he evaluates the taste, clearly taking his job very seriously.

"So?"

"Damn. That's really good. Have a bite."

You smile widely, proud of your work. He points the rest of the skewer at you, but you bring your lips to his and use your tongue to swipe the sugar from his lips.

"You're right, it is good!"

You smile at the blush that creeps across his pale skin as he takes another bite, failing to hide his timid smile.

You both manage to eat around four skewers worth of fruit, sharing each one between you. Yoongi sneaks kisses against your cheeks and jaw after every few bites, enjoying how he left you a little flustered after each one.

"You're gonna get my face sticky with the sugar," you complain, though you both know you don't want him to stop.

"I'll just lick the stickiness off," he says with a shrug.

"Ew, you're disgusting."

He laughs at the whine in your voice, placing another kiss on the corner of your lips.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, moving his mouth down onto your neck.

You tilt your neck to give him better access, stealing another skewer as you do so.

"Don't leave any marks, I have school tomorrow."

"The kids won't even know what they are," he mumbles, moving his tongue to gently graze your skin.

"Yeah they will! Kids are very modern nowadays, and there's only so many times I can say I burned myself with my curling iron."

Yoongi smiles against your neck and you leave the skewer in your hand to be forgotten on the counter. Your hands find their way into his grown-out locks, and you gently tug at the roots.

You bring his head back to meet your lips again, and the taste of melted sugar on his tongue drives you insane. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in even closer.

You find yourself smiling against him as his hands move up to cup your cheeks.

Yoongi doesn’t mind being called a bad cook as much if this is how every cooking session was going to end with you.

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shuenkio · 3 months ago

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Brought the heat back | PsH. 💥

Paring: Sunghoon x M!reader | Genre: SMUT

Synopsis: Arrange married Park Sunghoon who you had never seen since birth, finally took a turn when he realized you're the one.

Cw: explicit scenes, cursing, cumming inside, moaning, whimpering etc (read at your own risk)

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A&N: from ANON request. I'm super sure there'd be awkward parts because I'm stressed out to write a perfect smut but might fail... Nvm enjoy reading. Smut below cut ✓

Enjoy your life at peace eat, drink, work, and sleep. Cycle this routine as life goes on. Until a man who is not your dream shows up. Since his parents and yours used to be hardcore bff when they were young, they wanted to tie the bond together by arranging a forced marriage between Sunghoon Park and M/N.

Disagree to this arrangement would be useless; why on earth would your parents befriend the gangster group out of everyone else? Which makes it worse if you don't want to be married to a man you have never met.

Along with your future groom, maybe at least you expected that he would be a gentleman, is a green flag, have a nice attitude, know what's right or wrong, be mature, talkative, or so on, yet none of these can be seen in him. All Sunghoon had was a face, a body, and a dead-looking, cold face.

He was an ice prince, for real. So on the day both guardians confirmed this ceremony, you couldn't help but wonder: What did you do to deserve all of this? A future husband who couldn't fit your standards—a future husband you didn't even know and love before. What would the tension between this unfold? Just sigh and let it be; better shut up or be breathless.

Later on, after the big party, Sunghoon and M/N were freshly married. Nothing special happened, not even a spare word for each other, any eye contact, especially Park Sunghoon, what's do you expect? All you got on your night together was,

"I don't like you, m/n—don't get your hope up just because we're married; now remember your place,"

and that was the last thing you've heard him say, and it's the most hurtful thing you've ever experienced. Then why? A month had passed since we were married, and you had noticed that Sunghoon's behavior had slightly changed from before.

He has a hot temper whenever you're on the phone with anyone, having a nice conversation with the neighbors, or interacting with anyone passing by when going out, and he can't seem to calm down. Sunghoon himself didn't even know why he felt this way; he said he hated you, but why would he be jealous of somebody else other than him? However, he didn't care if you'd bring up those events when he said those words.

All he knows is that he realizes that nobody else cares about him more than you. M/N, as Sunghoon's husband. Never been a lazy househusband; whatever the tension of hatred is, you still make him eat three times a day. Doing all the shit in the house as if you're the one who brought it. When he was sick, you were never afraid to ask him what's up and how he feels. And that's when he knows that you're the one.

Either you love him or not, he's going to repay you and make you love him back. Who cares right now if you love him or not, because once you're in here, you can't leave in anyway? Coming home after a late-night date, Sunghoon's is full of all the memories and contact you had with the waitress earlier at the restaurant. You were a little too sweet toward those guys. as a result of making him unable to hold back his possessions and jealousy any more. Sunghoon needs to mark you as his own; it's now or never that you are his property only. The eyes contact; ugh, he can't seem to stop the burning sensation inside his brain.

Without further ado, once m/n settles in the bedroom, Sunghoon quickly locks the door slam with one click, and all the windows shut off from the remote. Starlet, by the sudden, you ask him nervously; a look could kill a person's presence on Sunghoon's face. It was dark; if his eyes could glow, it'd be lava red in irritated. Yet he didn't respond with anything. He ripped off his top and threw them away before buckled his belt, prepared to do something to his desire.

You know that you'd be a food to his Hungary by this midnight, all fabric on the floor. What's that mean? Well, he's probably doing what most couples do; actually, he's going to fuck and drive you nuts. Gulping down a hard lamp in your throat, too scared to run away, too scared to say no, but there's a small part in you that screams you have to let him be; there's must be something underneath after all of this. When you open up for him, exhale what's coming for you. In one motion, both of you and his underwear are nowhere to be seen.

You always wonder, as a boy, what the dick would look like for the hot guy. It is long, small, curved, or what? Yes, Sunghoon was there to unveil that; his cock was gorgeous, he had big, huge ass balls, and the shaft was paler than his skin. His tip is faded pink, and well, the best part is that he's uncut. He doesn't like getting his skin chopped off anyway. Seeing you gone speechless by the view he was giving, only to boost his desire even better, no warning alert, your two legs are thrown across on his shoulder, while his cock is in the position of your small hole.

The atmosphere changes in an instant; the dark, empty bedroom is filled with a burning spark. Neither you nor him had any experience, but let's say Sunghoon has been trained for a while now, probably most of his alone time, to know and do what could drive you to your begging stage.

"S-sunghoon, I know it's not wrong, but... You're too huge for me."

"I don't give a damn, m/n, endure it. I'm yours, husband, isn't it? You can't say otherwise!" Distracted by his words, you were surprised at the contact of his cock buried inside you, thrusting in unexpectedly. The enormous hard cock of his indeed spread your ass into two, resulting in your cries out with pleasure.

Seeing you still adjusting to his size, Sunghoon trailed down his lip, brushing softly against yours. The kiss is mixed with love and jealousy of his; he can't stop it now to breed you and mark you as his own. He was eager to tell the world you were his only. Sinking into Sunghoon's touch, you slowly and finally adjust to his huge cock. Once he knew you were ready, his demonic power took over him as he began to push his hip to the deepest part he could ever go in one thrust. The sudden sensation drizzled you as you whimpered out loud shamelessly. Meanwhile, Sunghoon also had the same feeling; his body shuddered into pieces when he moved his own hip up and down.

All those sex toys are nothing compared to your tight entrance, which is clenching so hard and tight of his cock at the moment. He is groaning so good; it was heavenly pleasurable. It's going on for another couple of poundings until Sunghoon gets a sign he'll explode anytime soon. Clearly, you are unprepared but have to be without it. As both of his large arms encircle your waist, the wet kisses continue harder than his tongue licking over all your lips and intertwined in your mouth. Chasing that climax, which is what you're aiming for too,

"M/n, I'm fucking coming; I'm coming; I'm —" desperately, he breaks the kisses, and in one last grind, he comes undone inside of you. The massive load filled you like a cum dump, squirting out all of his orgasms and shivering with all the nerves. Enough with him cumming out; you're soon finding your dick twitches, following his orgasm as it squirted, and shooting out the hot white liquids too.

With your eyes flying up facing the ceiling, you endure the pleasure, sucking in a sharp breath. You were almost passed out with just one round, your chest heaving nonstop while Sunghoon was already recovering a while ago. M/N just feels too good to fuck, and he won't stop till he is satisfied.

"M/n! Don't test me from now on; I realized that you're nobody but someone who still puts up with me even if I'm a bad husband. I'm going to love you like no one else can, and if you ever smile at somebody else than me, I promise I'll bring the heat back."

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ CRD TO ALL THE OWNERS.

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thegnomelord · 6 months ago

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Gnome, my good man, what's your thought on a trickster spirit!reader within the cod monsterverse? Like, he can be a malicious or a purely mischievous spirit who likes to mess with things and play around. As all spirits are, he's a free one, and refuses to be tied down—relationship wise. Which would probably be for some good angst in regards to one/some of the boys pinning for an unrequited!reader. Anyways, I can just see him being an absolute menace to the other boys :3

Better yet if he's a regular fuckbuddy, but even during sex he's still running his mouth, making crude jokes or some offhand comment that makes his current buddy all "???". The only way to shut trickster!reader is to stuff his mouth with some dick or ride/fuck him so good all he can get out is a bunch of whorish moans.

Just.... thoughts on trickster spirit!reader 😞😞

ooooh yessss, trickster spirit reader like anansi that's very clever but also a fucking troll. Reader that's an absolute menace to anyone in charge, a giant pain in the skull that takes every word seriously, as Price figured out when he remarked 'It's raining cats and dogs' and trickster reader literally made it rain cats or dogs, or some general said trickster reader was driving him up the wall so he ended up stuck on the ceiling lol.

Also I absolutely love love love the idea of brat reader and brat tamer 141. Like, you're a free spirit, to try and chain you don't is about as good of an idea as making the spirit of the sea stay with the sailor who loves her, and the old heartless man of the sea can tell you how well that goes.

So the boys let you roam, they let you have your fun; Holding your gaze across the bar when you're flirting with a faceless stranger, not pushing when you shrug their hand off your shoulder to go grind dance with a person you just met, biting back and resisting following you when you disappear to the bathroom for a quick fuck. You're not oblivious of their jealousy, your kin thrive on creating these emotions in others, and quite frankly it's fun to see how far you can push them.

But oh, little trickster, they may let you do as you please, but that doesn't mean your actions don't have consequences.

MDNI

Eventually you burn away all their patience, eventually, the need to show you why it's them you always return to burns too hot and you end up pinned on the bed, or the floor, or whatever semi-flat surface is around.

This time you're pinned beneath Soap who's half shifted, big burly body bruising your hips with the strength of each bounce, sharp claws digging into your ribs to give him a good hold on you. The headboard bashes against the wall every time he fully drops down on you, the springs creaking and digging into your back.

"Fuck puppy-" You moan so loudly you're sure half the base can hear but you can't give a single fuck about it when his ass is so tight around your cock. "So good- shit, you feel- fuck, fuck, fuck- really know how to chase that bone huh- hm!-" Your mouth runs automatically, the your hands sneaking out of the handcuffs easily so you can grip his hips.

Soap is beyond words, animalistic wolf brain too preoccupied with getting your cock as deep in his ass as he can. His tail wags back and forth, wide canine tongue stuck out of his mouth as he bounces on your cock harder, thick thigs tensing to drive you deeper into his velvet soft depths.

"Oh no you don't." Gaz snickers and snatches your arms. He's much more graceful than Soap when he sits on your chest, leaning over you and pinning your hands over your head. "You didn't let us touch you, you're not touching us." He smirks, the tip of his cock laying against your lips, and you could be fooled into thinking he's a trickster too.

You grin and purposely clench your teeth, looking up at him with challenge.

Gaz clicks his tongue, keeping your arms pinned over your head with one hand. His other hand curls into your hair and tugs just as Soap clenches around you. You're in no way responsible for the whorish moan that falls from your lips, eyes closing and mouth opening.

Your eyes fly open when Gaz pushes his hips and shoves half his cock into your mouth. "There you go, got your tongue." Gaz chuckles, pushing his dick a bit deeper. Another sharp tug is all it takes for your mouth to close around his shaft, eyes hooded, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his cock. Gaz's cock muffles your moans when you get a taste of his precum as it beads down your throat, your mind melting through your cock as the two sergeants fuck all that trickster intelligence out of you.

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linkspooky · 6 months ago

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It's not just the fact that Hori decided to kill a lifelong victim of grooming.

My two favorite comic book storylines are New Teen Titans Judas Contract, and Uncanny X Men's Inferno. They both feature villains / victims (Madelyne Pryor and Terra) that die at the end of the story. Terra is specifically fifteen years old and a victim of sexual grooming.

However, both of these stories are clearly written as tragedies. It's clear from the start that these are tragic stories not only meant to get us to sympathize with the victim turned villain but also the failure to save a clear victim is meant to make the heroes look bad.

Let me just list off all the shit Scott Summers put Madelyne Pryor through.

Fell in love with her only because she looked like his ex girlfriend Jean. Even though Madelyne specifically stated before getting into the relationship she didn't want to be jeans replacement.

Married her, and refuses to take time off to the point where he misses the birth of his own son leaving Madelyne at home to deliver her baby on the floor.

When he finally retires and they move to Alaska together he gets a phone call that Jean is still alive and abandons his wife and daughter for weeks to go back to his high school girlfriend.

Madelyne is attacked by a group of supervillains while Scott is away and just barely manages to escape but loses her baby.

She joins up with the x men to look for scott only to find out in the time she's been gone Scott had already gotten back together with Jean.

She is tricked into making a deal with a demon who wants to overthrow ilyanas control of limbo (she thought it was just a dream and the contract to sell her soul didn't matter).

She used her newfound power in order to find her child Nathan only to find Mr sinister there who reveals that Madelyne was a clone of Jean Grey, her entire life was a lie, she was made to breed with cyclops and produce a baby for sinister.

At which point madelyne snaps and decides to burn everything to the ground and kill her own child.

It's clearly telegraphed as a tragedy. The reference to Medea is pretty obvious. Madelyne had no chance from the beginning, however even in this tragedy Scott specifically forbid any of the heroes from using lethal force on her. Jean and Maddie mindmeld at one point and Jean literally begs for Maddie not to die and that she should live on to raise her son. They even throw a funeral for Maddie afterwards because be no one else would ever mourn her.

Not only do the heroes look bad, especially Scott for not being able to save her, they do at least try to talk with her, use non lethal force, and beg her at one point to let them help her.

On the other hand not only did Deku never engage Shigaraki Tomura once, just the vision of a crying child in front of him. Deku doesn't look like a failure for failing in his goal to save him he's still the greatest hero, they don't hold a funeral for Shigaraki, Dekus last words are about how he doesn't forgive Shigaraki (and therefore he deserves to die i guess because deku is the punisher now). Deku doesn't even give Shigaraki the respect of calling him by his preferred name he just calls him Tenko who was the only person Deku cared about saving.

It's not just about a victim dying it's about how the story promised us over and over again the kids were going to save the villains in the final act, that this was going to be an optimistic story about the new generation being better than the old.

Only for Horikoshi to deliver something entirely different. If I'm watching punisher I know what I'm getting into. I'm here to watch Frank Castle shoot mobsters. If Batman picks up a Tommy Gun and starts shooting mobsters that's bad because Batman wouldn't do that shit.

There's writing a story that's tonally inconsistent, or changing your plans for how a character is going to end late in the game and then there's this.

Which is basically narrative gaslighting. Where one thing is clearly happening onscreen but the narrative needs you to believe those gaslights clearly are not dimming.

I know Deku made no effort to save Shigaraki when he explicitly said they OFA is a power for saving but not killing, but don't worry Deku became the greatest hero anyway, and this is still a happy optimistic ending!

Horikoshi isn't looking for treasure in the house. Those gaslights aren't dimming. You're clearly being hysterical, woman.

#Bnha 424 #bnha 424 #mha 424 #bnha spoilers #bnha critical

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lacrimosathedark · 9 months ago

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I need the comic book fanfic writers to be made very aware of something:

Roy Harper is the only one to EVER call Jason Todd "Jaybird".

This isn't a family name that he picked up on, or that Roy made and the family has adopted. Roy is literally the only person to call him that. Dick doesn't, Babs doesn't, Bruce doesn't, nobody but Roy does.

The others call him Jay sometimes, in old comics Jace was said a few times (which I actually like and wish people would use literally at all). Bruce has said "Jay, lad" like once and fandom adopted him calling Jason "Jaylad" but that's not horribly egregious so I tolerate it. Dick occasionally calls Jason "little wing". That's about it.

Jaybird is very specifically a Roy Harper thing.

(Honestly yall better appreciate me actually looking back in RHATO 2011 because BOY do I hate this comic. It's not only poorly written, but in my opinion, ugly as fucking sin and I need to burn my retinas now)

That is the first instance of Jason ever being called "Jaybird", and it becomes a lowkey running gag that Roy calls him that and Jason "hates" it.

And then we get this post Heroes In Crisis

This whole thing may have been poorly written because, again, Scott Lobdell sucks, but the intent is to evoke intimacy to make Roy's death hurt. Jason is supposed to have just lost his best friend and was told by Bruce Wayne whose last appearance in his life was beating the shit out of him and, oh yeah, who saved Jason? Roy Fucking Harper.

In addition to the fact that Roy only left Jason to get help for himself. He was supposed to be in rehab/therapy, somewhere safe, and he fucking died because of handwavy Speedforce shenanigans or whatever it's been retconned to now because nobody liked Heroes in Crisis. Roy was supposed to be getting better and he died ostensibly in an accident. Like if that's not the worst fucking bullshit--

This scene of Jason calling himself by what he deems a stupid nickname would mean jack shit if everyone and their goddamn cat called him "Jaybird". But it being a Roy-specific thing makes this scene distinctly about Jason being vulnerable and actively grieving. It's such a cliche trope, and a real coping mechanism, to call a deceased loved one's phone just to hear their voice in their inbox message again. He probably has no thoughts that Roy will ever hear it so this is just for him, but he's letting himself accept this dumb nickname Roy gave him now because it was Roy that gave it to him and Roy is fucking dead.

Like, in fairness it probably frustrates me more because I ship the two and parallel it with Oliver calling Dinah "pretty bird", but like...even as just a cheeky friend nickname, nothing romantic behind it, having everyone else call Jason that feels wrong. Especially his family who he still has so many issues with and, like it or not, he's closer to Roy than literally any of the Bats at this point.

This isn't the only time I've seen the fandom do this (this being giving nicknames between characters that just don't exist); Jason calling Tim "replacement" is absolutely rampant in the fandom and I hate that too because he never calls Tim that, and refers to him as such like once. I have a whole list of actual nicknames and insults these motherfuckers call each other somewhere, but maybe another time.

In short

STOP HAVING EVERYONE CALL HIM JAYBIRD.

Thank you and have a nice day. <3

#DC Comics #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jaybird #Roy Harper #Arsenal #I am losing my goddamn mind #I'm just so tired #RHATO #Heroes in Crisis

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punkpandapatrixk · 5 months ago

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🎡Cosmic Messages for Workers of Light ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Those of you who’ve always had a feeling that you were born to do something important; those of you who’ve recently been feeling like you’re being called to something higher than the mundane; YO, this reading has appeared in your Reality now to signal that the lights are green~🥝🥦🥑

Many people have been on different timelines that are now converging as one singular trajectory of where Humanity is heading. It’s a little bit more convoluted than that tho, because we each experience this Game a whole lot differently, too. But essentially, we’re wrapping up karmic cycles and entering a Golden Age of Workers of Light~★

Technically speaking, the essence…the theme…of the New Age of Aquarius is accountability. This is an era of accountability, folks. People can no longer be supported by any kind of cosmic power to perpetuate deceit and the misuse of knowledge.

‘But when knowledge is abused or put to the servility of coining wealth for a few, without respect of the treasury which all inherit, then humanity departs from the machine and all is toil without profit. For the false-hearted who would tear knowledge apart, diminishing the light and shielding its beams from us, will make mechanicals of us all.’ – excerpt from Manifesto of The Guild of Artificers; The Steampunk Tarot

What’s your current timeline? Which trajectory of the future of Humanity are you on? This reading serves as a prelude to what’s going to be revealed more in-depth in the ‘Lion’s Gate Portal to XXX’ PAC~💋

INTELLIGENCE: Mission Mind Control (1979) on Nuclear Vault

TECHNOMAGY: Probability Alteration and Luck (Energetically Programmed Audio) by Sapien Medicine

deck-bottom: XXI The World Rx, Silver Geographer (Francis Drake) & Priestess of Shine

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – You’re Going to Change the World by Making It Innocent Again

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 585, 627, 657, 757, 818, 828

the meaning of NOW – 6 of Pentacles Rx

Have you ever had glimpses of imagination, or a sense of knowing, or it’s just a feeling, like you were dropped to Earth by mistake? Perhaps it’s a feeling as if you were a Greek god banished from the realms of the gods and entered Earth as a form of punishment? Or a bit of a feeling like you got scammed and arrived on the wrong Planet? LMAO Why am I thinking of that Bollywood movie called ‘PK’?

The alien kid arrived on a strange Planet: Earth. And Humanity—Indian primarily—befuddles the living shit out of him XD I think you’ve known for quite a while that you’re not from around here. You’ve never really fit in. I think you weren’t treated nicely by most people—could be your own blood ‘family’, could be your schoolmates, teachers, neighbours. Just basically, you’re seen as a bit of a freak.

It’s hard for you to feel a sense of community. No matter what stage of Life you are in, it’s always felt like that. If at the moment of reading this you’re older in age, I think you’re managing a lot better now. You’ve learnt to be OK with your own company because you’re the most smartest and interesting person you could have conversations with. But if you’re comparatively younger, you’re probably still going through the motion, and that’s OK, because it’s just part of the lore building ;P

bridging the future – King of Wands

The simplest truth about your existence is that you aren’t meant to ‘grow up’ in the same sense as most other people do. Growing up is a wonderful thing, of course, we all need to grow up and become smarter and amazinger! But what doesn’t sit right with you is people’s twisted idea of ‘growing up’ is all about. To most lame-ass Humans on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means abandoning the core essence of what makes you, you.

On this Planet, ‘growing up’ means letting go of your innocence and simple kindness in exchange for survival and brutality (in the workplace, I guess). Here on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means burning your passion to ashes; not living Life fuelled by a burning passion. Here, ‘growing up’ means being punished for authenticity and the childlike courage to question authority. Growing up, here, means becoming complicit to evil abuse of power and greed.

How are you supposed to comply to any of that? Don’t you realise how pure your Heart is? Your sense of justice is clear since day one. It’s something you may not be able to express clearly but you know what’s right and wrong on the basis of what’s good and bad for people as….just people…not numbers or statistics or traffic or casualties. ‘People are PEOPLE, dammit!’

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Cups Rx

You’re befuddled? This world is befuddled! If you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, you have it written in your Soul’s blueprint that you’re going to be involved in the politics of the world. Yes, some of you could become politicians or activists, but even those that aren’t interested in any of that, you’re still going to have opinions and perspectives that touch on the subject of Humanity and how psychopath politicians are fucking things up for Humans.

You know what I mean? Some of you could become world players that implement new laws and principles in your society. Some of you will have the power to influence public opinions so that people begin to demand accountability from their corrupt governments. Back to basics, baby. What is Humanity, basically? What does it mean to even be Human living in a Human World, basically? You’ve questioned all of this and you will one day have a platform to extend this musing to a larger audience.

The lights are GREEN now. You’ve experienced so much personal conflict with people who don’t understand your values, all so you would learn to forge connections with people who are just as innocently passionate as you are. That was your training ground, bitch~♥︎ Your personal experiences were a microcosm model of what’s going to sweep out the entire world in the coming decades, if not centuries.

Basically, it's time nations started actually taking care of their own issues before they raid and destroy other nations for resources is what your Soul is understanding.

TIMELINE🔻💛

daydreaming – Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Innocence

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Pile 2 – You’re Not Confused; This World Is; So You’re Alright

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 111, 123, 222, 414, 444, 647

the meaning of NOW – 9 of Cups

Head in the clouds, baby? You’re the type of person who has many dreams and ideas, and it’s like, it’s easy for you to get interested in all kinds of pursuits. But then, it’s also just as easy to lose interest in all of those novelties; it feels like your heart and mind are always being pulled by newer interests or topics. I’m reminded of this meme or whisper that says something like, ‘Not tonight babe. A YouTuber has just posted a 4-hour video about a topic I’ve never heard about before.’

You like to study new things or basically just drown yourself in new hobbies/interests because you’re trying to make sense out of your very existence. I think you’ve felt incredibly confused your entire Life. If not ‘confused’ per se, it still feels like you’re lacking a sense of direction. You don’t really know what’s the purpose of being here on this Planet. You’re weirded out by the fact that you’re not motivated by the same things that others have convinced you to get excited about.

‘Why am I not motivated by these promises and achievements? Damn, I simply can’t be motivated by something as unromantic as that. There’s no Life in any of those pursuits. My God, what should I be interested in for me to motivate myself to make something out of myself? I really don’t know what to pursue in this world. I don’t even know how to live…’ So you continue to daydream but your heart is quite heavy sometimes.

bridging the future – Ace of Cups Rx

Pile 2, you are magic, you know that? Being the way that you are, you aren’t in the wrong for being rather ‘impractical’. If anything, you’re so high-vibrational that you still remember that physical manifestation comes from the dream world first. I think you’d resonate with being a very Feminine person, aenergetically speaking? Maybe you have a strong Moon/Neptune placement in your birth chart as well.

You remember on a Soul level that all dreams can become real as long as you keep on to them. Your being a dreamer who dreams ‘too much’ is not wrong; it is this world that’s too rigid and restrictive. It’s grotesque how society has set up so many rules that limit what a being as divine as you can and can’t do/create. They say the sky’s the limit; in your case, your faith’s the limit.

There are many wonderful things that you want to make manifest but you often tell yourself that you’re dreaming too much or that there’s no way someone like you could ever achieve that. That’s where you’re doing ‘wrong’: the not believing in your own ability to create your dream Life. Remember that successful people usually say that the Life they have now exceeds even their ‘wildest’ dreams.

So dream wild. Dream big. Even if you don’t believe you can exceed your expectations, can’t you still believe that you’ll manifest something very similar?

you’re going to MAKE IT – 9 of Wands Rx

Stop stopping yourself, OK? Stop gaslighting yourself for fuck’s saké. Right now, you need to stop believing that Life’s supposed to be hard work and lived logically. You literally deserve to get paid for just existing. That sounds extra narcissistic but hope you get the idea. This modern society that favours hard work and believes that only after you’ve worked really hard can you then be worthy of a lot of abundance is stupid. This world is confused. People have forgotten the essence of dreaming and living in ease.

Some of you will resonate with being a fairy or an elven soul, and so you believe from the depths of your heart that people should be allowed an easy existence in harmony with nature. Some of you will resonate with being a futuristic alien android being who believes that human lives can be made easy with the right use of technology.

All in all, cosmically speaking, your Soul came into this world to be a ‘lazy’ genius who will switch things up for Humanity so that everybody can have an easier time existing on this Planet. Geniuses are never lazy, bitch. Not in the mind! If wanting things to be more streamlined and easy to do makes a person ‘lazy’ that’s hilarious. So what’s a not-lazy person? A low-IQ idiot who perpetually works hard because they got scammed by capitalism?

TIMELINE🔻💙

daydreaming – Green Magus (John Dee)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Ambition

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Illuminate Others’ Paths by Simply Expressing Your Truth

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 211, 217, 303, 522, 814, 999

the meaning of NOW – 3 of Swords Rx

Do you know that you’re an energy worker? I almost feel you’re a miracle worker. You’re somebody who has a special power in the way that you express yourself, whether in writing or spoken. It’s not so much what you say or write or do, it’s HOW you say or do or write your truth that moves people’s hearts. You have the power to stir some shit up in people’s aenergetic fields LOL

You have both the power to destroy your enemies and heal those who want to get better in the world. If your power is speech, it’s the aenergy with which you talk that empowers people. Ionno, think JFK, MLK? Or some fascinating YouTubers who make us feel like, ‘Oh this guy/gal is my spirit animal!!!’ It’s their aenergy, right? Same with writing or any other thing that you do. It comes natural to you to create some kind of a ripple in people’s consciousness.

For other people, just tuning in your aenergetic space stirs them. That’s why you experience a lot of extremes. Good-hearted people feel immensely healed, comforted and uplifted in your presence or when they talk/text with you. But the false-hearted ones, they also know there’s something about you that calls out their bullshit even when you’re not ‘saying’ anything. There’s something about you that inspires people to be better! And that’s fucking annoying to narcs and the losers of the world LMAO

bridging the future – 10 of Pentacles Rx

I see that you’re honestly not the kinda person who’s ambitious about changing the world, about influencing the world. Not in that ambitious manner like some activist or whatever. Your Soul is very incredibly superbly soft; you ain’t an activist, you’re an artist; you ain’t a fighter, you a lover, baby~ So I get that you sometimes don’t really know what to do with yourself XD Like there’s this desire to heal the world, but you don’t think of yourself as someone who’s fighter enough or strong enough to do any of that.

WRONG. You’re the kinda entity who’s already doing all that healing stuff by simply being the amazing person that you are. Your aenergy is like a combination of both Pile 1 and 2. The half of you is superbly soft and dreamy and you’re so kind and empathetic; the other half of you is fiercely protective of those who are hurting, and you do a lot to make things better and easier for them—in your own practical, seemingly small ways.

The good news is, you really don’t have to be a fighter if it doesn’t suit you. Basically, you just have to be yourself and express your truth. In whatever way you find most suitable to you. Your power lies in your communication, self-expression, connection. You’re going to be a trend-setter, babe~ A trend-setter of authenticity, yup, ‘real authenticity’, ironically; not ‘fake authentic’ that’s propagated by a lot of narcs on the Internet LOL

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Pentacles

With narcs who are pretending so HARD at being good, you know it’s all skin-deep; it’s all just jargon. And they’re gonna get really good at weaponizing self-love concepts to justify shit behaviour, deadbeat behaviour, toxic tendencies, gaslighting atrocities and all that shit, you know? With you, your VIBRATIONS can’t be faked, let alone emulated. The world needs a role model like you. That’s why you’re going to make it. Your Soul Mission ain’t just about you, babe~

You’re literally going to be the example whom people bear witness for what being authentic is all about. They will watch you and come to their own conclusion what a genuine soul looks like. You’re reminding me of Dr Jordan B Peterson. Yep, that kinda vibe. Be weird all you want, be scandalous all you want, the right people will see that your INTENT has been good all along. And in that sense, the people who CHOOSE to view you badly are the CLOWNS, and they’re gonna be proving that to themselves.

In essence, most people’s idols are all LIARS!!! You’re meant to break that, destroy that, and usher in a new era of influencers/celebs/thought leaders/spiritual teachers/all kinds of public figures that actually operate on Light—real information and real intent—instead of fake-ass jargon that lies to people’s faces with semantics and optics! Your aenergy is insane it’s literally gonna change the world massively, and upon finding this reading, you’re riding on the winds of CHANGE so get fucking READY, bitch~! \`★_★`/

TIMELINE🔻🧡

daydreaming – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Illumination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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letterstodixon · 14 days ago

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you're so lame

summary: Daryl goes on a run and returns home to a sweet reward.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 951

era: pre-negan alexandria

warnings: not proofreading. fluff is a warning itself.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

a/n: i think this is more of a drabble and not a one shot, but i hope you enjoy it anyways ! it was inspired on this video.

taglist: @vaniniweenie

Generally, ever since the world went to shit, no one was allowed to have a bad day. If you were in danger, you had to protect yourself, hunt for food, or fight off some walker if you were unlucky... Or fight off other people, if your luck was even worse. If you lived behind a wall that protected you from the outside, you still had to go get food. Being considered one of the leaders forced you to put yourself at risk for the good of your community.

Well, Daryl hated being considered a leader.

Don't get him wrong, being a hunter was one of the things he was best at, and if you asked him a few years ago, he preferred to be in the comfort of the woods, in solitude.

Well, that changed since you came into his life.

From the prison to Alexandria, neither of you even imagined the idea of being friends. You came with Michonne and, unlike her, your nature was much more easy going and friendly, kind, seemingly naive. Daryl prejudged you all that time, until you proved to be loyal to the group, and you didn't hesitate to cut off a head or two. His attraction to you grew more every day, and who was he to fight against that? Well, he avoided the feeling for a long time... Until the tranquility of Alexandria came. It was enough to live under the same roof and have a bed to share every night, and that's when he knew he didn't want anything else for his life. Yes, he still knew how to move in the woods alone, but he also knew he was home when he had his arms around you on a cold autumn morning.

As soon as his walkie rang that morning, with Rick's voice urging him to get up, his mood changed drastically. He was usually a grumpy man, but it made him even worse to be insistently woken up when he didn't want to do something. He just hoped his call hadn't woken you up.

"Babe?" He heard behind him, your sleepy voice making itself heard in the room.

Rick's a dead man.

"Go back to sleep, sunshine. I gotta go." He replied as quietly as he could, turning to look at you. With his elbow on the pillow, his free hand came up to your face, caressing your cheek softly as a smile appeared on your lips, eyes barely open.

"Be careful out there, okay?" You told him, your hand on his while leaning into his touch. There was no better way to wake up.

"Always am, babe." He assured you, leaving a short kiss on your lips before getting out of bed. "Got any plans for today?"

Before answering, you rubbed your eyes, yawning as you sat up on the bed. "I should probably get up too. I promised Carol to help her with kitchen stuff, might do some desserts if we can."

Daryl listens intently, nodding as he finishes getting dressed, placing his crossbow on his back, which rested propped up right next to his nightstand. Leaning over the bed, he kissed your lips once more.

"Don't burn anythin'" He said, leaving the room and closing the door before the pillow could hit him.

...

The run had been better than they expected. They managed to get food, some medicine, and warm clothes to get the community through the winter without any problems. As he was making his way into the house that you shared, he couldn't help but smell the sweet aroma that was in the air, indicating that you had indeed managed to make those desserts you promised. As he took off his boots at the entrance of the house and left his crossbow aside, he walked into the kitchen, listening to you hum under your breath as you worked on the counter, a few candles lighting up beyond the light on in the kitchen.

"Glad you ain't burn anythin'" He exclaimed, making you turn around startled, a hand on your chest as you closed your eyes, while Daryl rolled his. Such a drama queen.

"You scared the crap out of me, Dixon. You're lucky I love you." You said, walking over to him as you placed your arms around his neck, scanning his face for any possible bruises or scratches, but finding none, while his hands rested on your hips, watching you with the same attention as you watched him. "Made it home safe and sound, I see."

"Had to, m'wife woulda kill me if I didn't." He replied, a smile threatening to appear on his lips. Looking behind you, he noticed a cake with something written on it, making him squint. "What's that?"

"Oh! I made a cake and managed to write something for you." You said excitedly, moving away so you could take the cake in your hands and bring it to him.

Who wants to eat anyways? Ew.

Daryl tilted his head, taking a step back as he blinked in disbelief. "I don't..."

"I got the wrong cake. Fuck, I'm sorry."

As you set that cake aside, you went to get the one in the fridge, presenting it to him the same way you did with the last one.

Congrats on the successful run, hunter!

There were few times that you had been able to hear Daryl laugh out loud, but this time, you had achieved it without hesitation. His laughter being too contagious, you laughed too, covering your mouth as he rested his hands on his knees, shaking his head.

"Yer lucky I love you, woman. As lame as you are an' everything'"

#🍃—arieswrites #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl

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legobiwan · 3 months ago

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We need to talk about this. And I'm going to start right off with a contentious claim:

Ford was willing to gamble the fate of his entire dimension to feed his ego and insecurities and Bill had him pegged from Square One.

This sounds like a harsh statement. It kind of is. When we first meet Ford in the show, all we end up learning from him is that restarting the Portal was dangerous and could (and did) create a rift that would open the door for Bill and his gang to end the world. And Ford pins this entirely on Stanley, excoriating him for not listening to his warnings in the journals and doing whatever he wanted, like a set of monkeys flinging shit at walls until he happened to get it correct.

Ford is a highly unreliable narrator. After all, as Stan rightfully said, who built the portal in the first place?

But we need to go deeper.

In Journal 3, Ford speaks to the necessity of hiding his journals, which he - to be quite honest - does a crappy job of. Why keep two out of the three journals in Gravity Falls, a mere hair's breath from the actual Portal, which for some mysterious reason, Ford has declined to - you know - actually destroy? Why bury the Journals near an elementary school with children - children who tend to be curious creatures and can and will find a way to discover what they shouldn't? Why call on your estranged brother who you claim to despise as an absolute last resort? Ford's narrative, if you really start to analyze it, makes zero sense. And it makes zero sense because it's an edifice, a personal mythology meant to be a bulwark against the horrible truth of Ford's motivations.

"I've stared at the fire, journals in hand, for hours. I just can't do it. The knowledge in here could be a gift to mankind, the portal's potential limitless. Am I really going to destroy it all just out of spite? No, I won't give HIM the satisfaction. Instead of destroying my work, I'll find a way to DESTROY BILL INSTEAD. If Cipher has a weakness, I'll find it. I'll outsmart the devil yet! He may be a god, but I am a scientist."

Ford could have ended this thirty years ago if his ego hadn't gotten in the way. All he had to do was burn the journals and destroy the portal, just like every other human Bill tried to con over the years. How much did Ford actually care about the end of the world as much as he cared about Bill's betrayal and losing his earth-shattering (quite literally) research?

He didn't. And given this, is it a surprise that Bill, when he finally was able to breach dimensions and start Weirdmaggedon, still placed bets that Ford would join him in the end? The man who said, "Fuck the universe, I need everyone to know I was right."

This isn't about the possible apocalypse. Ford doesn't make one, single mention of that here, doesn't seem to give one fuck if the world burns, as long as he can prove himself to be better than Bill and better than everyone who doubted him for all his life.

And this is why, I am certain, that when Bill perused Ford's possible futures, a large majority ended up with Ford turning to the dark side, as it were.

There's a reason Ford pulled these journal pages. They don't fit his self-constructed narrative of the heroic martyr who wants to save the world. Ford edits his own story again and again, pushing everyone away so they won't see just how insecure and absolutely desperate for validation he is.

Sound like someone we know? Maybe a yellow triangle who literally outlines the steps to denial in his teenage angst journal?

Bill, in essence, promised Ford the universe. Yes, literally, but also the universe in terms of what Ford always wanted - recognition and revenge. Ford, by not destroying the Portal or his journals, didn't 100% reject this proposal, even if that equivocation was subconscious. It's why - I think - Bill feels Ford's just put him "on read" after he fell through the Portal (according to Alex Hirsch).

Ford's going to have to come to terms with this. Maybe he did during his time in the Portal. We have no idea how much Ford did or didn't mellow while being stuck on the other side of the universe, although we do know a) he still holds a massive grudge against his brother and b) Bill is still able to play him like a lyre when he asks about the equation to pop the bubble around Gravity Falls. (And I do not for one second believe that Ford was trying to buy time when he admits that "Of course, a simple equation could collapse the barrier," when Bill questions him about it. Ford needs to prove that he knows the answer, that he figured it out, that he's a scientist and outsmarted a god. Again, if the kids and Stan hadn't come to Ford's rescue, it's very hard to say where Ford would have landed in the end).

The thing is, there's a part of Ford that realizes he's being an ass, that he needs someone. We see this with Bill, obviously, with Fiddleford in the ways Ford runs so incredibly hot and cold with the man (I need you, no I don't need you) - with Stan, who is a last resort but the only person Ford trusts enough to summon to Oregon. Because Ford didn't need Stan to destroy the journals or the portal - but he needed someone, maybe he needed a dollar-store Bill in his life, maybe he just needed someone to reach out like that. Ford fucks it up, wildly, as he can't let his ego go and allow Stan (who is being extremely practical, if bitter) to burn the journals like Ford should have weeks previous.

And well, we all know how that turned out.

What I'm curious about - and what I think needs to be covered more in fandom - is how Ford deals with all of this post-Weirdmaggedon. He's obviously in contrition mode at this point, swinging wildly to this penitent, self-abusing figure who will claim fault for the tiniest infraction.

That's not going to last him long. The type of change and self-reflection Ford needs is not going to come overnight. At some point, his uglier tendencies are going to rear their head on the Stan O'War and Stan is going to have to weather the blowback (or just throw his brother overboard). One might say Ford himself needs a little time the Theraprism, as he nearly consigned his own reality to damnation just like Bill did.

I love Ford. I adore Ford. He is so, so, so complicated. But ohhh boi, Fordsy, do you have issues with a Capital "I".

#hello there #stanford pines #bill cipher #stanley pines #ford #ooooooh ford #you and bill were meant for each in the most self-destructive way possible #they are both DISASTER beings at their core #i need to write the fics i want to read apparently #UGH #and this isn't even getting into stan #who has his own microfiche archive of issues #UGH THIS SHOW WHYYYYYYY

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extra-v1rgin · 4 months ago

Text

The reader is a wolf hybrid written with a vagina and breasts, I don’t think there’s any direct references to gender.

Contains: Mentions of previous poor living conditions, Imprisonment (sex doesn’t occur while reader is directly imprisoned), Cunnilingus, Vaginal fingering, Vaginal Intercourse, Groping.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

“Criminal case number forty-seven.” The chains around your hands clink loudly as a guard drags you forward. “The defendant has repeatedly robbed several stands throughout the capital. Jail time has had no effect and we seek more severe punishment.”

You keep your eyes on the ground. Without your comfortable cloak you feel exposed. The fur on your arms stands on end. Your hideous appearance is revealed in the scrappy prison clothes you wear. You suppose you really do look like some sort of criminal now.

“Are you a kobold?” A loud voice rings out. The words bounce around the ornate room until they burns your ears.

You don’t speak. You don’t want to dignify his idiotic question with a response. The crown king or prince or whatever should just sentence you to death by hanging and leave you be.

The guard to your left smacks the back of your head. “Answer,” he commands gruffly.

“I’m not.” You mumble the words so softly you’re sure you’ll just be reprimanded again but the quiet words appear to be satisfactory.

“Beastkin then? Or some kind of-“

“Laios focus on your duties!”

Your eyes flick upwards to watch the… advisor or confidant- you can’t pay attention to the intricacies of royal life -scold the king. They exchange quiet words that even your sensitive ears can’t make out. When the conversation ends you bow your head once more.

“We’ll keep her in the barracks for further investigation.”

Your ears twitch but otherwise you don’t react. Music sounds from your restraints again, jingling as you’re dragged off.

—-

The cells in the castle aren’t much nicer than any of the others you’ve been in. Most are relatively similar other than the temperature inside. You’re warm here at least which is better than the wooden walls that let in every gust of wind back on the outskirts of town.

The guards are the same, quiet and rude.

You sit around for 3 days in absolute silence. All the other cells are far away enough that you don’t know who else is kept locked up. The only sounds you hear are footsteps from the floor above and murmurs from the guards. They probably think they’re being quiet but you can still hear everything the pair is saying. Mostly it’s useless gossip. You now know all about who’s fucking who and who slacks off and who is stealing extra portions at dinner.

Every once in a while you hear a murmur about the king. There’s so many rumors about him that you don’t know what to believe. You can trust the guards a little bit more but nothing they say is useful in any way.

“The guy’s fucking weird, friends are too.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s been through fifty chefs at this point. All the food tastes fine but he fires them after one week.”

“We get to eat some exotic shit though.”

“Damn right.”

All you get is the same bowl of porridge three times a day. For dinner there’s two dry slices of beef to accompany the slop. You treasure the meat though. Even if everything tastes the same having protein is a gift. You chew it slowly as if you can pull any kind of flavor out of it.

You don’t know why you’re here. You’ve already been tried for execution twice and it’s likely the third time will be the charm. It’s a miracle you’ve kept your hands this long. Most dogs get put down after their first bite.

—-

By the fifth day the guards have gotten bored enough to bother you. Their swords clang against your door. “Are you awake?”

You don’t answer but they peak through the slot in the door. “Hello? You got hearing problems?”

“No way she does, her ears are fucking giant.”

“Whaddo you think she is?”

“Why the fuck would I know? Maybe some kind of beastkin or an ogre or something.”

“How dumb are you? That’s not what ogres look like.”

While their focus turns away from you, you shrink against the wall. Your appearance has often been debated and you’ve heard just about every comparison by now. With how much you’ve heard about ogres you thought they might not mind your circumstances but they found you too human. Now you exist in a limbo with no race to call home. Even your own mother discarded you.

They murmur about a wide variety of monsters. Even you don’t recognize most of the things they list. For a place devoid of monsters the guards seem to know a lot about them.

—-

Someone slams their fists against your cell. As his face comes into view a short guard reveals himself. His nose is big and his neck is skinny. It reminds you of a bird. In response your stomach growls.

“Hands against the wall.” You obey wordlessly. There’s no point in delaying your death another day.

“You better thank the divine or whatever you believe in. His Majesty wants a personal interview before sending you to the gallows.” He laughs at the end. Though you can’t do much to retaliate a harsh growl scares him for a moment. He slaps you afterwards but it doesn’t hurt much. His hands are strangely thin. It only adds to the bird imagery.

You follow the man with a wide smile. He complains about your fangs but that only makes your mouth open wider. You run your tongue over your sharpest canines.

“Don’t act all high and mighty. You’ll be a dead bitch by the end of the day.”

You’re not smiling about any supposed freedom, it’s just fun to watch his eyes trace your teeth. Will the king react the same? Too many stories go around to know if he’s actually a brave hero or another coward hiding behind fables.

When you enter he looks much less extravagant than he did a few days ago. The lion-skin cloak is gone from his shoulders. A crown sat atop is head but it was a plain band of gold. You still admired how it shined in the low light of the room.

You’re still trying to figure out what you think of the man when the guards leave and you’re left alone.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Laios extends his hand but you ignore it. You keep your eyes pointed at the table now. He should just drag you towards the guillotine and have it over with.

The man seems unperturbed and smiles widely at you.

“Oh and you shouldn’t worry about… dying or anything.” He pulls an odd face that isn’t quite a frown. “We’re all about rehabilitation here- or well it depends, but mostly rehabilitation yes.”

“So you’re gonna give me a job cleaning up shit or something?”

“Probably not, Marcille handles that kind of thing though. The job assigning I mean. She’s very good at it.”

You go quiet again. You’re not sure why the king has to be involved in something as simple as this. He speaks very casually but appearance wise does give off an air of royalty.

As the silence stretches on for a bit too long before Laios takes it as a cue to open his mouth again. “I’m interested in your heritage, if you’ll share. I meant to ask if you were beastkin earlier but I didn’t get an answer!” His eyes light up and you find yourself caught off guard. Usually the people who take interest in you do it for less than honest reasons. Laios hasn’t completely ruled out that possibility but his innocent look does relax you slightly.

“Ah well I don’t really know the full story.” Your mother had barely ever spoken to you about anything, much less your progenitors. “My mother was one, a beastkin. She was a werewolf. I don’t know about my father though.”

“Amazing! I didn’t know beastkin could have children. We’ll have to write to Izutsmi.” He stands up, knocking his chair backwards. Quickly the man crosses over to you. He easily towers over you. The eyes of his lion cape look down on you in judgement. “Can I ask you a few more questions?” He’s growing loud, almost shouting.

“Maybe.” Laios is making a mad dash back towards creepy territory but he still looks rather excited so you push down the feeling.

“Can I see your hands?”

This time you do extend just one. He cradles it for a moment, twisting your wrist and curling your fingers. It’s such a delicate touch. You’ve never had someone hold you without intending to hurt.

Laios’s thumb glides over the thick skin of your palm. “It’s like a paw pad,” he murmurs. You’re glad that he doesn’t mind your silence. As he moves upwards to trace over your nails, claws, you wince. They’re brittle and chipped in some places. Overall they have a strange stripped texture that looks hideous.

“Are they good for digging?” The question catches you so off guard you stifle a laugh.

“I dunno. I’ve never tried… I guess they’re good a tearing through wood though.” Not enough to escape any kind cell of course, but enough to piss off the guards.

“Ah that’s clever!” There’s a lot of firsts happening today. You can’t remember receiving any compliment without a sarcastic undertone spoiling it. It makes your cheeks burn a little but you try to will the feeling away.

Without asking, though honestly you don’t care, his hands trace their way higher up. Laios runs his fingers through the short fur on your forearm. “The color matches your hair, though the texture is a little different.” To confirm he plants a hand on your head, right between your ears. Immediately they flatten while a growl bursts out from your chest. “Sorry.” He pulls back with a sheepish look. “Does that happen instinctually?”

“Usually… sometimes I know why but sometimes it just happens I guess.” Slowly your ears rise back up as his hand lowers.

“If I ask can I touch your ears?” Immediately they flatten again.

“No!” It’s a commanding tone that comes out louder than you intend. There’s a hint of embarrassment but Laios doesn’t look bothered so it quickly fades.

“Your tail?”

It curls around your hips protectively. If you keep saying no will he get violent? Is your death still set in stone? Getting friendly with a king might not be such a bad idea.

“Just the tip of it.” Slowly your tail sticks out to the side. As he approaches it you hold your breath.

“Ah it’s so soft!” He pinches some of the fur between two of fingers. “Does it feel nice?”

“It feels… fine.” It’s like someone petting your hands. The sensation itself is calming though.

He continues on this path for a while. Laios comments on your inhuman features with fascination and listens when you tell him no. When you don’t allow him to measure your tongue or poke his fingers into your ears he happily moves on to another aspect of your canine features.

You’re still debating if his interest in you is flattering or creepy when the king finally seems to tire himself out. Actually one of his attendants knocks softly on the door and Laios wilts. You’re happy to have his hands off you but overall the experience was not entirely unpleasant.

Afterwards you’re brought back to the chilly prison with snarky guards but you carry the warmth from your meeting.

—-

After your third meeting you get moved from the prison to a proper room. It’s still solitary with a guard outside your door but it’s nicer than anywhere else you’ve ever been. The bed is plush and soft. Since you first ran your hands over it you’ve picked up the habit of sleeping nude. People knock properly before entering now and fur covers most of your back.

While you don’t sleep longer you do sleep better. One hour in a huge bed with an actual mattress gives you better sleep than you’ve had in your entire life.

The meals you eat are filling and delicious. You can’t help but scarf them down as quickly as possible. Somewhere in the back of your mind you regret not savoring the food but you can’t help yourself.

The guards are just as rude, seemingly aware of how you first came to the castle. You don’t necessarily expect any better but it does sour the extravagance of everything else.

In between meetings with Laios you stay tucked away in your room. Whenever you leave people narrow their eyes as you pass. The hallways are too confusing and there’s nothing to do anyways. If you don’t have to steal and scrounge around for food you’re happy to laze about. Everything you need is within reasonable distance.

When you do meet with Laios the meetings stretch to be longer. He always seems to find new questions to ask you, rarely repeating asks you’ve already turned down.

If you need breaks between the man counting tufts of fur and measuring the growth of your claws he agrees. Though even when you eat or simply rest in the silence golden eyes observe you intently.

“Can you eat raw meat?” He easily interjects in the middle of a quiet meal.

As with many of his questions you don’t know the answer. You admit the truth sheepishly each time but he accepts your answer.

“If I bring you some will you try it?”

“Maybe…” Your nose twitches at the thought. It can’t be any worse than rotten meat and that didn’t taste half bad either.

—-

Looking forward to your meetings with Laios is an awful thing. He brings you divine food (At least raw meet agrees surprisingly well with your tastebuds) and a few gifts even if they’re thinly veiled things to test you with. You go through a few different physicals, one by an actual doctor, and general trials. Laios makes bold comments about your natural strength and other physical characteristics. It gives you a rather big head.

His questions get a little bolder but after your thirty-fifth bubble bath you’re a little more lenient with what you allow. If he wants to check your ears or count your teeth then you’re happy to allow him.

The whole time Laios’s interest in you was purely based on your characteristics. Some might’ve considered him rude— he had barely asked you any personal questions after all —you liked his open attitude. A few humans had had an interest in your form, though for less strange purposes (or possibly more strange depending on how you looked at it). Though rather than approaching you openly most resorted to tricks or sly words. It made your stomach twist uncomfortable.

Laios was earnest. If he wanted to measure your feet and stride you knew there wasn’t an ulterior motive. It made complying with his requests easier despite how strange they got.

That was perhaps your downfall. Questions got more wild though you knew the reasoning was the same. Once he had asked to measure your tongue, insistent that it looked longer than any human-races. He hand crammed his fingers into your mouth, oddly stroking the wet muscle.

“Do my fingers taste weird? Do you think you’d ever eat a human?” You couldn’t answer with his rough fingertips still tracing your tastebuds.

“Ha your tongue is longer! I wonder if your vocal cords are different too. Kobolds have trouble speaking the common language because of it. Though your speech sounds fine.” While he speaks his fingers slip from your mouth. His hand traces your neck, skimming over your Adam’s apple.

You smack your lips a few times to get the taste of skin out of your mouth. It didn’t taste good or bad (well maybe it was a little bad), just strange.

“Do you want a drink?” Laios hardly looks guilty as he offers you a cup to cleanse your tastebuds. The tangy juice is a welcome change.

“Is that all?” The man tries not to subject you to more than one or two strange requests a day. You haven’t been out long but you’d be surprised if he asked for another odd exploration.

He looks a little disappointed now, as he always does at the end of your meetings. Still he excuses you with a wave of his hand and a small nod.

—-

Laios does not call on you for almost a week, a strange break in your schedule. While your visits are not always daily they happen at least twice a week. The king’s curiosity is never-ending. Though you wonder if he has finally asked all his questions.

You’re hesitant to leave your room, and instead find ways to entertain yourself inside. There are a few books with simple enough language that you can read them. You’re happy to take bathes and sleep to fill up the rest of your time, but admittedly you miss your meetings. Faintly you’re aware of the great power Laios holds over you as a king but he’d also the only man that hasn’t turned his nose down at you. Even with the upgrade in your residence the guards still snicker and sneer when they near you.

You’re awfully bored without him as a companion. In the end books aren’t very entertaining and taking too many baths makes your fur dry. The lack of contact with others drives you to taunt the guards. It created a nice distraction right up until they stopped responding at all.

So when the man finally shows onto your room you nearly leap into his arms. You hope your excitement isn’t too obvious.

Laios enters your room fully, closing the door behind him. He’s oddly quiet and the guards outside your door have been dismissed. “Is it alright if I sit?” He moves to rest at the edge of your bed. The man wears a serious expression but he sinks deeply into your soft mattress.

You struggle to think of what could have the normally cheerful man so quiet. His lips press together into a sharp line. “I have been very glad to have you indulge my questions… Though I believe that they’ve all been answered. I think Marcille is mad at me for letting you stay here so long.” His eyes don’t quite meet your face. Your ears flatten as you realize what he implies.

“I see.” Your disappointment is plain. You barely try to hide it though you feel a bit foolish for growing so comfortable. “Though I’m surprised you quieted your curiosity.” It’s a bad attempt at lightening the mood. Laios reacts strangely, staring resolutely at the floor.

You aren’t particularly good at reading others but the quiet here is like whispering in your ear. “Or you have found someone else to aim your questions at?” The idea doesn’t quite hit its mark. Laios responds much too openly.

“Ah no. Most people just get angry at me.” He looks very sad about it and you find yourself caring too much. You almost ask him to visit but that is much too forward. It’s more likely you will skip town and find another place to get arrested.

“Right well… I am glad you’ve told me in person.” The words sound lame. It’s not a proper goodbye.

Laios still doesn’t move. He seems comfortable in your bed. You would rather be the one sitting but you don’t want to move too close.

“I have… I have more questions truthfully, but I don’t think you would want to answer them.”

You blink. “I have answered them so far haven’t I?”

“Marcille scolds me for being too open. If she knew what I wanted to ask I’m sure she’d curse me.”

You stifle a laugh. “Most others would already considered my virtue compromised. I don’t think I had any in the first place.” Even as a theif you are aware of how people gossip. Whether you are a vagrant or a peasant little will change others view of you.

It takes you a moment but you gather all the maturity within yourself. “I’m happy to go, but you should not let others decide what I will be comfortable with.”

“I’m sure you’ll be mad.”

“Well I’m often mad so that’s fine.”

Laios’s shoulders relax and you’re sure he’ll ask another question of you.

—-

You stand nude. It’s more embarrassing than you expected. For all your criminal activity you’ve never been convicted for public nudity. Even on the rare occasions you’ve been observed naked it wasn’t as if the observer had any interest in you. Usually they were simply kicking you out of a bathhouse or spare room you tucked yourself into.

“There’s no fur on your stomach!” Laios in all his excitement forgets to ask before placing his hand over the area. The temperature difference pushes a weird noise from your throat. His hand is large, it covers half your skin. “Does it just not grow there?”

You struggle to respond. Laios looks at you with no issue but you feel… shy. Maybe for the first time in your life.

“Y-yea. It’s like that on my face and feet too.”

“I noticed that too. Isn’t it funny that plenty of humans grow hair one their faces but you don’t?” He has a strange idea of what funny is. You offer a tight smile and he seems satisfied by the reaction.

Laios finally takes his hand off your stomach. The skin there tingles in the aftermath.

“D-do you…” For the first time ever Laios looks embarrassed himself.

Encouraging him may be a bad idea but you urge him on cautiously. “It’s ok, you can ask.”

“I got yelled at last time.” The man scratches his head. “How many-“ he mumbles the last bit, “-nipples do you have?”

Your mouth drops open in surprise. Your face ignites in embarrassment and indigence.

“I-I’m asking because most animals have multiple! Even minotaurs have four. I mean you’re already naked.” At the reminder you’re quick to hold an arm over your breasts.

“Just the two… sorry.”

Laios does look slightly disappointed. “Your reproductive system is probably more similar to a humans. If you’re only having one or two kids at a time then that would make sense.” His eyes trace over your stomach again. It’s like he had x-ray vision.

The man stops touching you, instead walking around your entire body. He circles you four or five times. When he dips around your back you focus to make sure your tail stays still.

The appendage keeps lifting up and to the side. Once you noticed it you had tried your best to stop the behavior, but unless you focused on your tails actions it tended to move on its own.

Laios, as observant as always, notices. “Your tail does some funny things! I grew up with dogs so some of the behavior is familiar to me.” You don’t particularly enjoy the comparison.

“It just does what it wants most of the time. Most of it is random I think.” Your tail doesn’t exactly wag when you’re happy. About half of the time it agrees with you. Right now it’s an annoyance.

“I should’ve been keeping track better.” Laios sounds sorely disappointed in himself. His hand ghosts over the fur and then goes in closer. The way he suddenly holds your hips startles you. A disgrungtled noise escapes your lips. The odd squeak makes your cheeks burn.

“Sorry.” He releases you quickly enough but you stay in place. “Am I making you uncomfortable? We can be done.”

“It’s fine.” You should crawl into a hole and die but you doubt you can move.

“Are you sure?” He lingers behind you, hand hovering an inch or two away.

You have to answer through gritted teeth. “Yes.” When his hand goes back to your hip you don’t know whether you should stiffen or relax.

Laios stands closer now. Your back occasionally brushes against his chest. The only bothersome part is that your tail is squished upwards. It’s not painful but it is highly uncomfortable.

“What are you doing now?”

“Just feeling, it’s good to do that sometimes.” His hands move with purpose. They trace up your hips and under your arms. It’s quiet except for his breathing that warms the back of your neck.

“The difference between fur and your actual hair is interesting.” Laios brushes against your scalp but doesn’t comb through it. You’re glad, his clumsy fingers would just tangle it. “The fur sheds right?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?!” He runs a thumb over your neck, where your fur starts to grow in.

“Just a little I guess. It’s bits and pieces until the summer when it gets worse.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Itchy… and I ruin all my clothes.”

“Are you- do you turn, naked? O-or does the fur grow in thinner?”

“Thinner fur most places, but on my chest and neck I loose it completely.” You hide from his gaze as it shifts down to the area. You want to scold him for staring but you find it more embarrassing than something you’re truly uncomfortable with.

Laios scratches absentmindedly along the slope of your shoulder. His eyes narrow with concentration until thin flecks of grey pull free. The man seems pleased with the strands of fur that he’s pulled out. His eyes flicker back to your chest.

“You can touch it.” You have no idea what propelled you to say that but the words have already left your mouth. Afterwards you can’t do much except bite your tongue.

There’s such excitement in Laios’s eyes. “Can I really?” His hands are already poised to grope you. It’s almost off-putting but you nod your head.

His hands cup your breasts gently. Surprisingly you don’t have to hold back any noises or shudders. The warmth of his skin is pleasant but your fur dampens any erotic sensations. Laios squeezes, glances at your face, then squeezes again slightly harder. You frown slightly, if anything the handling is a little uncomfortable.

“That doesn’t feel good?” The man sounds slightly surprised. Almost immediately his hands fall back to his sides.

“Um, it feels fine. You can keep going if you want.” Most of your shyness disappears with the lackluster touch.

He’s blushing now, a pretty addition of color. “I want to figure out what makes you feel good…”

You don’t know how to respond. Laios is nice to you. His hands are sometimes a little too rough, but they’re warm. “Like, sex?” You’re embarrassed again.

For the first time you’re the one to surprise Laios. His mouth opens and then clamps it shut. “If that’s something you’re- uh, interested in.”

You took a long minute to consider if this was what you wanted. Something you were “interested” in. Laios had… technically, imprisoned you, or at least his laws led to the guards imprisoning you. But he was also a handsome and honest. His face was stained red as you stared at him intensely.

“Ok.” It was unlikely an opportunity like this would arise again. Sex wasn’t at the top of your bucket list but you didn’t want to give up the chance to actually enjoy yourself.

Laios seemed surprised again by your response. He didn’t move any closer for another minute or two. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he stumbled in your direction. One large hand moved to your hip.

“I’m not actually an expert.” Laios coughed into his hand. “So let me know if… somethings wrong.” It was unclear what that implied but you nodded dutifully.

After a deep breath the man moved in to kiss you. You were surprised that he chose a more innocent and soft action to begin with. You expected your hands to go right to your ass. His lips were clumsy but your own were as unfamiliar with the movements of a kiss.

The blond wastes lots of time exploring your body. His hands run up and down your stomach. They dip down to your thighs but don’t quite reach your pussy.

You pull Laios back until you bump into the table, sitting down on it. Your hands remain wrapped in his shirt. You’re not sure where else to put them.

When the man pulls back you feel slightly shy again. His eyes go straight to your cunt now that there’s no reason to avoid the area. The first touches are hesitant. Once the man is more sure of himself his thumb runs over your labia and spreads the lips apart. Your hairless center is exposed to his eyes. The cool air makes your quivering muscles tighten and relax.

Laios notices your slight wetness. His lips twitch excitedly. The man’s actions get more bold. His finger dips into your warm cunt. It’s thick and even a single digit spreads your hole wide open.

Both of you look down breathless as his finger thrusts in and out gently. Your foreheads bump together which prompts your eyes meet briefly.

“Does it feel good?”

“U-um it’s fine I guess.” The finger itself isn’t uncomfortable, but Laios’s pink face and his breath against your cheeks is much nicer. A sudden urge to kiss him strikes you again but you hesitate. Though the man is exploring your naked body the idea of gentle touching feels much more intimate.

He moves forward to sink the entirety of his finger inside of you. It’s still an odd feeling of just the right amount but nowhere near enough. Though once the digit is planted firmly inside your core it wiggles around slightly to rub against your walls.

More wetness slips from your core. It sticks to Laios’s finger and dries sticky on your thighs. The slick is enough to smooth the way for a second finger. This stretches your walls slightly but other than a heavy breath you manage not to react.

Laios is focused. His other hand grips your hips tightly. You barely wiggle but each time you shift his hand twitches at your side. The man’s head is tilted so far down it almost collides with your chest. You don’t need to see his eyes to know exactly where they’re pointed.

Eventually his fingers pull free from your hole. You expect him to try for a third but there’s too long of a pause. His actions are somewhat obscured. Though his hand becomes visible once more as it raises to his lips.

“That’s- That’s-“ You don’t know what else to say as the man licks his fingers. He dips his tongue in between them to get every drop of your slick.

“It’s a strange taste.” He laughs and you’re horrified. “Salty…”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from scolding him. Instead you try to focus on the feelings more. Laios’s fingers go back in between your legs and thats much better.

There’s more exploration and it’s nice.

“Can I use my mouth?” The man sounds so excited. He smiles wide and continues to pet your walls gently.

You shake more. “Do… do people do that?” You know what sex is but some of the finer details escape your knowledge.

This time you finally manage to catch Laios off guard. His cheeks are a very pretty pink. “I’ve… read about it.” You’re not sure if you’re inclined to put your faith in his literary knowledge.

“If you bite me I’ll… rip your tongue off.” It’s a lame threat that rings hollow. Laios smiles weakly and kneels down. His hands pry your thighs even further apart so his head can sit between them.

“It’s warm,” he mumbles. You’re not expected to respond to it. Laios’s lips near your cunt and you resist the urge to shove him away or cry.

When they touch the outer lips of your labia you breathe out heavily. The feeling is almost ticklish as you tremble. Though as Laios pushes against you harder the arousal comes back. His lips are much softer than his fingers were. They’re soft and slow against the entrance of your core.

His tongue reveals itself and you bend over into his head. The feeling is wet and smooth as Laios sinks into your cunt further. He takes the map born from his fingers and retraces it with his lips. You weave your fingers into his hair and can’t decide where to guide him. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips without anything to stop their exit.

“W-wait I’ll-“ You’re familiar with the idea of an orgasm. Though the feeling pushing through your gut is frightening you know where it ends. It urges your thighs to squeeze Laios’s head and keep him in place. Your hips rock into the strokes of his tongue.

The man himself eagerly continues. He doesn’t mind how you try to suffocate him or the strange moans you let out.

Laios keeps his tongue inside of you even after your orgasm. His strokes are much softer now but you continue to twitch with overstimulation. You keep your hands in his hair to try and stable yourself.

The man laps at your cunt until he’s satisfied himself with the taste of it. He pulls away, cheeks and lips shiny and wet. His eyes are half-lidded and still focused on your core.

You slump backwards, breathless. Whining you push him backwards. He sits backwards on the floor and you’re slightly pleased to see his erection underneath his pants.

Laios scrambles upwards and hesitantly stands in front of you. He seems unsure of how to proceed.

“G-give me a second and then we can…” You’re unsure if he wants to fuck you properly or if his mouth was the end goal.

“Did it feel good?” The man looks slightly embarrassed but he seems pleased too.

“Yes.” You break eye-contact. There’s a very pretty pillar in the corner. The bottom of it twists into ornate curls.

Laios draws closer to tower over you once more. “I’m glad.” He pats your head gently and moves his hand to cradle your cheek.

You push past the gentle moment and move forward. Laios seems surprised when you move to tug at his waistband but he lets you drag it down. The shape of his cock is a little more clear through just his boxers. It’s plump and you don’t have anything to compare it to but the size is nice as well. The thought of putting it… well it’s not so large you’re frightened.

Before you reveal his cock to your eyes you glance upwards. “Take your shirt off.” It feels better if he strips off the rest of his clothes before revealing himself. You find a moment to breathe in the seconds it takes for the man to pull off the other layers he wears.

There is a good amount of muscle barely hidden under fine layers of fat. It is clear he is well fed. You find yourself jealous of his figure.

“Alright, underwear now.” If Laios will listen to your orders then you are content to watch. He slips his boots off and steps out of his pants. The man shows no shyness as he pulls his underwear off. You are the one who stares now.

Again you have never truly seen a cock. Glimpses of nude old men on the streets were not pleasurable nor sufficient. Laios is young and handsome which extends even between his legs.

“Can I touch?” You have the common sense to ask first though your hand is already moving forward.

With a nod you cradle his length in your palm. It’s warm and heavy, alive. You wrap your fingers around it, what you think is an acceptable tightness. Laios’s breath deepens and he leans towards you. His chest is warm against your shoulder. Each sigh echoes against your head.

Mostly you just feel his cock. You don’t have much intent on getting him off like this. Watching him twitch and shudder is entertaining enough. You spread your legs further apart and urge him forward.

Laios breathes heavily against your shoulder. “Sorry I might be bad… I’ve never done this part before.” You have to stifle a laugh and pull him closer still.

“Go slow.” You let the man position you, pushing and shifting until you’re a perfect display. You try your best to stay still but your legs shake slightly.

His cock is much scarier when it’s positioned right at your entrance. Though Laios is still slightly clumsy, gripping your arm much too tight, he takes his time moving. The head of his dick is suddenly right at your entrance. Both of you are once again staring right at your cunt. Your view is slightly worse but that makes the feeling even more intense.

The stretch isn’t as bad as you expect. There’s a soft pain but with gritted teeth you ignore it. Laios does his best to get you used to the stimulation, rocking slowly. He only plants himself a few inches in for now.

Though it’s clear the man has to restrain himself. He breathes very heavily. His grip on you was impossibly tight before but now you’re sure bruises will bloom tomorrow. You’re forced still to let Laios take control.

He finally plants himself inside of you fully and nearly crashes into your arms. You guide his hands around your waist and wrap your own around his neck. For a moment there’s reprieve. Laios shifts slightly but doesn’t attempt any big movements. A minute or two passes where you both simply breathe.

Very slowly he tries a thrust, pulling out only an inch or two before sinking back in. You let out a pathetic whine and bury your face into his shoulder. He repeats the movements a few times, pushing another small whine from your throat.

You don’t do much except hold onto Laios’s shoulders as he builds up a momentum. It is very gradual but you find yourself still startled each time there is an imperceptible shift in speed. The pace grows until a horrible squelch sounds from your bodies pressing together and pulling apart. Sweat makes your skin shiny and sticks weird to your fur.

Laios doesn’t struggle with the fast movements. His muscles are much more obvious in action. You did not care much for a sturdy man when they only used their strength to subdue you. As a support however you are happy to have him to lean on. There isn’t much else to ground you.

You let out an embarrassing chain of whimpers and more dog-like noises. Laios’s hand cradles your throat ever so gently. “I- hah, I still wonder what your v-vocal cords are like.” The casual statement coupled with his breathless voice and cock buried deep inside you is a horrible combination. You feel horrified as your cunt squeezes tighter. Laios shouldn’t be charming but you don’t hate his stupid… everything. You certainly don’t hate anything about him right now.

Once you catch your breath you force the man to kiss you again. His big mouth is much more bearable when it’s occupied. If he wasn’t fucking you right now you’d force him to use it once more.

His hand is off your neck but it hasn’t stopped traveling. It stops over your uterus. Very faintly he can feel how his dick shapes your insides. Though his true goal lies slightly lower. It does not take long for Laios to find your clit and promptly attack it.

At first his actions are slightly too aggressive but after a moment or two he finds a gentler movement.

All your focus falls to your cunt. Despite both of you being beginners to this activity Laios shows great talent. Once his fingers attached themselves to you the end was near.

You’re not sure if it’s good to try and warn the man once more of your climax. Your tongue is thick and slow. Instead all you can do is offer another kiss and fall into the feeling of pleasure.

Laios only overstimulates you for a thrust or two. He pulls out of you slowly, and takes his cock in his own hand. Within a few jerks of his wrist the man releases onto your thigh. You are too tired to complain, instead content to rest your head on his shoulder. Your companion does the same. He leans against the desk and falls into your form.

For a moment you share heavy breaths and slow caresses. Finally Laios clears his throat. “There’s probably a rag here somewhere.” He goes to full away but you let your claws prick his flesh.

“Stay.” It’s pleasing to have a king listen to your commands. He now shifts to come closer, lingering between your legs. You pull your head back, only enough to see his face. It’s pink and shiny with sweat but still rather attractive. Peeking downwards you mean to study his physique. Instead you notice the fur you’ve shed. Quickly enough you look back upwards to avoid any more embarrassment.

You’re entirely unsure of what to do now. The sex was good… but you had no idea if this was just another version of his odd questions. For a moment you feared he might still wish to cast you out.

Laios squeezed your hips gently. The movement was likely meant to be loving but it startled you upwards. Your forehead smacked against his chin and both of you let out a groan of pain.

You didn’t know whether to whine or laugh. Instead a weird combination of the two popped out of your mouth. It prompted a small smile from Laois, whose cheeks grew even redder.

The small exchange smoothed out the awkward air. You pulled away from Laios fully and ignored the cold air against your stomach and chest.

“You can stay, as long as you’d like by the way.” He leans in more.

“Ah, so was this all a trick to keep me here.” You’ve never been one to make jokes but you manage a cheeky smile.

“I-it wasn’t! You can go if you want.” He moves to back up but you’re quick to snatch his wrist.

“I’ll stay.”

#delcious in dungeon #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #laios x reader #laios dungeon meshi #laios touden #dunmeshi laios #nsft fic

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