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talaok · 6 months ago

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Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

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devilishcupid · 2 years ago

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CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ doll's fics #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spider-man #spiderman #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider-man 2099 x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

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deusfoundry · 16 days ago

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part 1 here! this can be read as a stand alone but these two drabbles are set in the same universe/timeline!

girl dad!zayne is a decade older now, and while some things have changed, most remain constant. his body is still fit, the muscles of his upper limbs still defined, but he's got a slight pudge on his belly from your cooking. he still scoffs down ungodly amounts of candies and pastries, much to your dismay. he still spends a good chunk of his time at the hospital, but you've been able to coax him into taking less shifts lately, so he's at home with you more often.

girl dad!zayne who's pleasantly surprised when his daughter's boyfriend knocks on their front door, but grows confused when he realizes he's alone.

"hi!" he hands zayne a small box containing two portions of the same cake they had for christmas a few years back. the first one he spent together with your little family. "this is for you and auntie."

"come in, son." zayne places a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him inside the house with a smile.

girl dad!zayne who's starting to put two and two together when he shifts in his place on the dining table, almost uncomfortable and definitely nervous.

while he's visited your home by himself with just a cake and anecdotes about your daughter in tow before, zayne knows this is different.

"my wife isn't home yet, and according to her i've already hit my weekly sugar limit." he sets a plate down in front of him. “so you better eat this with me. otherwise, we'd both get in trouble.”

girl dad!zayne who stays quiet when he asks for his daughter's hand in marriage.

zayne knew it was bound to happen, expected it from the way he stutters between sentences, the way slips up and calls him "sir" when it's been eight years since he last used the honorific.

"i love your daughter. so, so much. and i can see myself- no- i know i want to spend the rest of my life with her. if she'll let me." he ends his speech with an exhale, holding zayne's gaze with a decisive look on his face.

zayne's eyes flicker towards the tiny box in his hands.

girl dad!zayne is equally terrified and relieved. he knows he can trust him, has known it for the last decade or so. but he can't shake the small voice in the back of his head that selfishly wants to keep his daughter close forever, that still holds on to the image of when all of her drowns in his arms.

she was so small, so vulnerable to the dangers of the world, and part of him wants to protect her for as long as he can.

girl dad!zayne who gives his blessing in the form of a simple question.

"how are you planning on proposing to her?"

zayne watches the man in front of him break into a grin, tears welling up on his eyes. and before zayne knows it, he's pulled into a tight hug. the air is knocked out of his lungs as he thanks him profusely.

girl dad!zayne who lets himself be held by you. the side of his head rests on your chest, close enough to your heart that he can hear the faint but steady thud of your heartbeat. your hand runs through his hair while the other cradles his back.

"he's proposing to her." he whispers as your fingers find his scalp.

"i know."

zayne freezes. "what?"

"he asked for my blessing a month ago. i told him he can stay until you came home, but he said he still has to build up the courage to ask you."

he pries himself away from you, putting just enough distance so he can look at you in disbelief. he opens his mouth, a string of complaints forcing their way out of his throat, but as always you beat him to it.

"hey, he asked me to keep it a secret! plus i didn't know it'd take him that long to ask you. you can't blame the man though, you're scarier than you think you are, dear."

and you had the nerve to giggle at his face.

girl dad!zayne who answers a call from his daughter two and a half weeks later.

it's the middle of the night when his ringtone cuts through the silence of your shared bedroom. he reaches for his phone and groggily slides it open. he rests it against his ear without putting it on speaker mode to not disturb your sleep.

he regrets it immediately when he hears his daughter's squeals over the phone.

"daddy i'm getting married!"

zayne pulls his phone away from his ear, hissing sharply.

"r- really, sweetheart? that's great." he briefly forgets about her boyfriend- well, fiance, asking him for his blessing a few weeks ago.

"he just proposed to me an hour ago and it was the most romantic thing ever! is mom with you?"

he hums, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. "she's asleep."

"oh right! i forgot it's nighttime for you there. sorry dad, i'll just call lat-"

"no, no-" zayne can almost imagine the grimace on his daughter's face, the tiny apologetic smile he knows she dons. "it's alright, dear. tell me all about it."

half an hour later, zayne falls asleep to his daughter's voice. she giggles when she hears his quiet snores through the phone.

"i love you, dad." she whispers before ending the call.

girl dad!zayne who visits his daughter on the day of her wedding right before he has to walk her down the aisle. it takes all of his willpower to not cry on the way to her hotel room and even more when he finally enters, spotting her standing in front of a mirror.

“dad!” she brightens up when she sees his reflection on the mirror.

“sweetheart,” zayne walks towards his daughter, but freezes in place when he's finally close enough to see her.

she's stunning, white satin cascading all the way down to the carpet of the floor, make-up done just right, jet black hair curled to perfection. clipped to her hair is the veil you wore at your wedding all those years ago, and for a brief moment, he sees you standing in front of him.

“i- i have something for you.” he hands over the box he's keeping in his pocket.

she eyes it with curiosity, gently unclasping the tiny lock to reveal the heart-shaped locket nestled inside.

“dad…”

“your mom gave it to me on our first anniversary.” he runs a thumb over the intricate detailing where the rust has settled, time wearing down the charm. “i didn't want to put my own photo inside. so for the longest time, it was just your mom…”

he opens the locket to show a picture of you in your early 20s. the brightest smile on your face tugs at the edges of your daughter’s lips.

“until we had you.” zayne shifts it to where a picture of her as a baby resides.

he hears her sniffle in his arms, and instinctively his hand flies to her back, fingers rubbing comforting circles over the fabric.

“you're making me ruin my makeup, dad.” her voice cracks through her words.

"your something old." zayne chuckles, moving around to help her put on the necklace. he pulls her impossibly closer to plant a kiss on the top of her head, over the veil she borrowed from you. "i'm so happy for you."

girl dad!zayne who walks his daughter down the aisle with you on the other side, because she insisted on having both her parents with her.

the whole walk is a blur to him. he remembers a few stray tears falling down his cheek and you scolding him for crying so early on through watery eyes. he remembers her laughter and the almost deathly grip she has on his arms. he remembers the comforting smiles you both give her when she admits she's nervous, asks what she should do if she messes up her vows.

"you'll do great."

"he's already in love with you. i'm sure nothing like that could change his feelings."

he remembers untangling his arms from your daughter when you arrive at the altar, but his hand still lingers on hers. he remembers locking eyes with her fiance.

“take good care of her.”

he gives him an affirming nod, and zayne finally releases the grip he has on his little girl to find your hands.

girl dad!zayne who weeps halfway through the ceremony. the brave front he's been keeping up all day shatters from just one look at your tear stained cheeks. he tries his damnedest to block any thoughts of his little girl, but it's the only thing he can think of as the ceremony goes on.

he hears her laughter and suddenly, she's two years old. and the best thing in her world is her dad making tiny seals and kittens out of his evol.

he catches sight of the tears welling up on her eyes and suddenly, he's helping her nurse a scraped knee with his hand over the wound and a whole tub of ice cream for them to share.

she turns towards you two right before she says her vows and suddenly, it's the first night you spend at the hospital after giving birth. he looms over your spent figure, holding the tiny bundle of joy in your arms as she gives you the smallest of smiles.

zayne chokes down a sob, leaning down to hide his face on the crook of your neck.

girl dad!zayne who joins in on the applause, his arm linked around yours as his daughter runs down the aisle with her husband, safe in the knowledge that someone loves his little girl the same way he loves you.

not proofread!!!! im not very satisfied w this again but we Move ehrhhehe hope u enjoy this all the same chat mwaah!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #zayne fluff #girl dad!zayne

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sanguinesmi1e · 2 months ago

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A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died.

Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge.

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.”

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly.

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work.

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form.

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!”

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said.

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before.

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor.

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

Text

sweet

pairing: bf!Eddie Munson x f!reader

summary: Eddie is trying to see what it takes for you to ask him for help.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, praise kink, dry humping, cum in pants (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i blacked out after two sentences i have no clue where the rest came from. apparently i was too horny to give a proper ending?

Eddie can see your hyper-focus on your hands, his heart is melting at the way you’re trying so hard to follow what he showed you even though he knows you can’t focus when you’re high.

It’s 10:37 pm, you and Eddie are high and he’s been trying to teach you the chords to his new song for 20 minutes now. He’s chuckling quietly as your fingers fumble over the strings again, drawing a frustrated whine from your mouth.

“Aww, It’s okay, baby. You’re doing much better than you were earlier! You’re actually picking this up way faster than I thought you would.” Eddie is genuine when he says it but it’s your reaction that changes that.. that changes his intentions. He watches your face as he praises you, he watches your eyes glaze over, and your lips part gently as a soft smile spreads over your face.

“Th- Thank you, Eddie. That’s so nice of you, thank you.” You sound so out of it. It shocks Eddie for a moment but makes perfect sense. He thinks of all the time you ask him for help with your studies, even though he knows you know the material. He thinks of all the time he cheers for you after getting the right answer, how he praises you and calls you his smart girl. He thinks of all the times you bake for him, asking for him to taste test them even though you’ve made the recipe a million times, he thinks about his exaggerated moans of delight, how he would get on his knees and beg you to make him a batch.

He thinks about times exactly like this one, when he’s playing his guitar for you and you beg him to teach you. He thinks about how quickly you pick them up and how you beam at him when you finally get it. The only difference now is that you’re higher than he’s ever seen you.

You wanted to celebrate for midterms so Eddie rolled you a blunt instead of his usual joints. Of course, his little lightweight got high out of her mind. You got so soft and cuddly that he could’ve never denied you when you asked him real nice to teach you the new chords.

He comes out of his thoughts just in time for him to hear you nail the part you’ve been struggling with, perfectly. His blood rushes to his cock when he notices the way you look up at him, expectantly, almost… desperately. “Such a good job, baby.” It comes out more sultry than he meant it to but he’s never been able to hide his emotions with you.

He watches your eyebrows, twitch in confusion but you don’t break his gaze. You’re waiting for more. He has to take a deep breath as his sensitive tip presses against the zipper of his jeans. His hands are twitching at his sides as he gets up, leaving his desk and making his way to where you sit on his bed. “That was amazing, honey. You’re better than I am, you’re perfect.”

He watches your thighs tense, trying to rub together as your hips lift to press you against his guitar as you get a faraway look in your eyes. You’re looking right at him as you grind yourself into his guitar, he doesn’t think you even realize you’re doing it. He lays down next to you, watching your bottom lip tuck under your teeth as you shake your head with a small smile. “No, not better than you, Eds. I could never beat the best, baby.”

Eddie has to actively bite back a moan at the pet name, he feels like he’s gonna fucking pass out as all his blood rushes south. He knows you’re trying, he knows you’re trying to turn him on, asking him to make you feel good without actually saying the words.

He’s told you time and time again how hot your pet names get him, he knows it’s silly but he cannot help it. Every time you speak to him with any ounce of sweetness he’s fattening up in his jeans. “But you’re perfect then?” He presses his hips forward, loving the pressure your plush thighs provide against his throbbing cock. His eyes almost roll back as he watches a silent moan fall from your mouth as your hips twitch, forward first against his guitar but back again to press into his boner.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you. You never initiate. He knows you’re shy, he knows it’s hard for you. He knows he’s all of your firsts but he needs— he craves to hear you beg him- to hear you ask him to touch you. He’s insecure, he can’t have this be so one-sided. He wants to see how far he has to push you before you say something.

You’re nodding at him desperately. “Yes- Yes, I’m perfect.” He’s smiling so fondly at your agreement, his dick twitching painfully in his pants. He knows you feel it by the way your hips twitch, pathetically confused and you whine. It’s short and cut off as you turn to put his guitar away, placing it gently on the ground. You brush his cock and give him a beautiful view of your ass in the process. He’s silently begging you to say something, he doesn’t know how long he can keep this up.

You turn back around and just stare at him, waiting for him to say something. He watches confusion bloom over your face, your head tilting like a puppy. He mimics your action with a teasing smile. “Do you have something to ask me, baby?” He watches realization and dread spread over your features.

“Eddie…” Your thighs are rubbing together, nervously or for friction. He doesn’t falter, just looks at you expectantly as you pout. His hips are subconsciously thrusting up into the air, getting hot under your gaze. You press your hand to your forehead, astonishingly stressed at this seemingly simple task. Eddie considers letting up as he analyzes the distress on your face but you speak up.

“Eddie can you-” You whine and avert your gaze. “Can you make me feel good? I—“ You huff out a breath of embarrassment. “I want you to make me cum… please.” His heart bursts at how nicely you ask. He’s taking a slow deep breath, trying to calm himself before answering you but you take his silence as a demand for more. “Eddie please!” You sound so upset, it's so cute. It makes him so hard. “Please, I- I need it. I need you, Eddie, please.” You’re still not looking at him as you whine.

Eddie turns your head and smashes his lips into yours just to shut you up. If you had kept rambling about how bad you need him he would’ve cum in his pants. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make you feel good, baby. What do you wanna do, pretty girl? We can do whatever you want. You asked me so nicely, honey. You’re so sweet.”

He’s desperate and all over you as he speaks. His hands are in your hair as he kisses all over your face and down your neck. You feel like you could suffocate in his need for you, it rushes over you and makes you need him more. “Your- Can we- Eddie.”

He’s biting into your neck as you try to answer. You can feel him smirking in your neck as you struggle to answer him. “ ‘M sorry, baby. Go on, talk. You’re doing so well, honey.” He pulls himself closer to you so he can press his bulge into you again, his eyes fully rolling back at the pressure this time. “I want you to…. fingermeplease?” He moans at the way you rush out the last part of the sentence but still manage to use your manners.

“You want me to finger you, baby? Fuck, yeah. I can do that. Mhm. You wanna sit between my legs? Let me open you up and play?” You’re nodding frantically and whining against his face as he lets filth spill from his lips. “Yeah? Will ‘ya squirm, honey? No, no I bet you’ll stay put like a good girl, huh?”

He pummels you with his embarrassingly arousing words as he gets up to take his pants off (as you do the same), leaving his boxers and situating himself against the headboard. His thick thighs spread wide over his bed, leaving room for you to crawl between them. You don’t move though, you’re too mesmerized by the way his cock is pressing against the fabric, leaking into it and leaving a rapidly spreading dark spot. It can’t help but twitch as you admire him, he can’t take it; the hungry yet somehow innocent look in your eyes as you crawl towards him.

Normally this is the part where you turn around, your legs spread and trembling over his as he shoves his fingers in your pretty pussy over and over until you’re quivering around his fingers, moaning and gripping his hair behind you desperately. Normally this is the part when he presses his boner to your lower back, thrusting against you in time with his fingers, imagining that it’s actually his cock inside you and willing himself not to cum when he pictures it for too long.

Instead, you lift yourself to your knees. His face becomes level with your panties, his hips thrusting into the air as he groans at the pink bow resting on the band. You put your hands on his shoulder and slowly lower yourself onto his lap, letting out the sweetest moan as his soaked cock pushes into your dripping lips. His hands come up to your hips and force you down to him rougher than he meant to when he hears the sweetest whimper of “Oh, Eddie” slip from your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, baby. You feel incredible, so fucking perfect. I can’t take it. Mm- Oh— What happened? I- I thought you wanted my fingers, sweetheart?” He’s throwing his head back and groaning when you collapse into him, leaning your weight on his bulge. You’re huffing out like you’re gonna cum, looking up at him with your pretty, glazed over, fucked out, high as fuck eyes.

“I dunno, Eddie. I- It looked like he was- like he was crying for me.” Your hips stutter with a moan as your eyes roll back, Eddie’s hard cock rubbing against your clit perfectly. He feels like he’s gonna cum as you confess. It confounding to him; how you can say the most whorish things in the sweetest way.

“You are in-fucking-credible, my love. I have no clue how you do this to me. I’m already so close, baby. You’re so amazing, so soft for me, love.” His eyes roll back and he’s losing it.

“You’re gonna make me cum— fuck. Holy shit—faster. Oh-h f-fuck me faster, baby. I love you so much. I- I’m gonna cum so hard. I- dammit. I wanna make you cum first. L-lemme make you cum first- shi-itt.”

You’re rabid against him, your hips moving at a pace that has him weak. You have him questioning who’s in control. He’s wound even tighter when he feels your hips falter, losing their rhythm as your mini whines evolve into desperate moans. “H-Help- Ed—”

Your breathing is scattered as you whine and twitch against him. “Yeah, I’ve got you, baby.” He grabs your hips and grinds you against him, lifting his hips to meet your heavenly pussy and pressing magnificently into your clit. It has your hands digging into his shoulders, dropping down to his waist as you hug yourself to him. You’re moaning into his ear as he feels your thighs tensing on his sides.

“T-tell me-” You whine higher, more pathetically than he’s heard all night, his cock pulses, spurting out a dangerous amount of pre-cum into his boxers. “Tell me I’m good. T-Tell me I’m pretty—” You cut yourself off with a gasp as you buck your hips against him, a newfound energy coursing through you. “Oh- please- please tell me I’m pretty.”

Eddie’s right on the edge, moaning so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole trailer park heard him. “YES- Yes, oh my god. You’re so beautiful, my love. You’re a fucking goddess among peasants. You’re a flower in a field of fucking hay, you’re my dream. You’re my soulmate.” He dissolves into a whine as you cum against him. You’re moaning into his shoulder, trying to muffle yourself in his shirt but you’re too loud.

“There you go, fuck yes. Good girl— Oh shit. I’m gonna-” His eyes are in the back of his skull before he can finish. His hips twitching insanely and spurting out an outrageous amount of cum into the fabric of your panties. He’s panting as he tries to come down but you’re deliriously humping him. Forcing more ropes of cum into his boxers, he just can’t seem to stop.

“Oh. Oh my god- I- I can’t stop. You’re such a good girl. Mine. My good girl. Askin’ me to make you feel good, takin’ what you need. God-” A ragged moan bubbles out of him as his cock finally stops drenching your poor panties.

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

#eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics #eddie munson imagine #stranger things s4

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moonselune · 1 month ago

Note

Bg3 companions and a reader who is ridiculously into them? like can't be around them without blushing, stuttering over words, etc.

Love your writing ♥️♥️♥️

ahhhhh thank you so much, this was a pleasure to write !

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Breakfast in camp had become a small but daily ordeal. Sitting across from Karlach was as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking. She always looked so effortlessly radiant—her wide smile lighting up her face, her hair messy from sleep, and that laugh that came from deep within her chest. You, meanwhile, were a nervous mess, barely able to lift a spoon without fumbling it in her presence.

This morning, you were attempting to slice an apple while also trying to sneak glances at her, as usual. But, distracted as you were, you barely noticed when she caught you looking. She grinned, that flash of teeth making your heart skip about five beats.

“Hey, you want some?” she asked, holding out a plate piled high with a variety of fresh fruits. You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Uh—y-yes! I mean, no! I mean—” You fumbled for the right words, your voice a bit too loud in your panic. Karlach looked at you, mildly confused but amused.

“Alright then, you let me know if you change your mind,” she said, winking, before going back to her breakfast. The little wink nearly killed you on the spot, and you dropped your apple, which rolled dramatically across the table and plopped off the other side.

Wyll, sitting beside you, tried to hide a snicker behind his hand. He’d been noticing your flustered behavior around Karlach for days and had clearly reached his breaking point. As Karlach turned away, Wyll leaned in close to you, smirking.

“Oh, this is painful to watch,” he muttered, barely containing his laughter. “When are you going to do something about it?”

You gave him a quick, desperate glare, feeling the blood drain from your face.

“Do something?” you whispered, panic lacing your voice. “Wyll, I can’t even string a proper sentence together around her without sounding like a fool!”

Wyll rolled his eyes, still grinning.

“Trust me, I can see that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But if you keep this up, it’s going to get unbearable for both of us. You’re absolutely lovesick, and she’s completely oblivious.”

“Lovesick?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice low but also scandalized by the word. “That’s… that’s not…”

Wyll arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that read, Really?

You sighed, knowing he was right. Every time Karlach entered the room, you either found an excuse to leave or wound up a blushing, stumbling mess. Just this morning, she’d brushed a crumb off your shoulder, and you had nearly collapsed on the spot.

Wyll laughed, patting you on the back a little harder than you would have liked. “Look, if you don’t do something soon, I will. Maybe I’ll tell her for you—‘oh, by the way, did you know you’ve got someone so smitten with you, they can’t even eat breakfast right?’”

Your eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow with challenge.

“Fine,” you whispered, heart racing at the thought of actually doing something about it. “What do I… say?”

Wyll shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Just talk to her. Be honest. If there’s one thing Karlach respects, it’s bravery. And if there’s one thing she loves, it’s someone who cares as much as she does.”

But as you mulled it over, you looked across the table and saw Karlach laughing at something Astarion was saying, her eyes bright with amusement, her entire face aglow with the life and warmth she carried effortlessly. You swallowed, trying to imagine how you’d ever muster up the courage to tell her anything.

The rest of breakfast went by with your heart hammering and Wyll occasionally sending you smirking looks. You felt like you were on fire, thoughts racing as you considered his words.

Finally, as camp was beginning to break up and everyone was scattering to their daily tasks, you decided to follow Wyll’s advice. Taking a deep breath, you gathered every bit of courage you could find and made your way over to Karlach, who was busy folding up her bedroll. She looked up, surprised, as you approached.

“Oh, hey! Need something?” she asked, her grin warm as always.

You cleared your throat, feeling the words get caught. “I… um…”

Karlach tilted her head, watching you patiently. “Everything okay?”

And there it was, the opening. The chance to say something. Be brave, you reminded yourself. You took a deep breath and tried again.

“I just… wanted to say…” you stumbled, unable to look her in the eye. “I really… enjoy spending time with you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile, her eyes studying your face, but still, she seemed blissfully unaware. “Well, good! Same here! You’re a lot of fun, you know. Brave in your own way, even if a bit shy,” she teased lightly, giving your arm a light squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe Wyll had a point—Karlach appreciated bravery, and here you were, looking like a fool again. But as her hand lingered just a moment longer on your arm, you felt a surge of determination. This was only the beginning.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You’d found Minthara’s sword on the outskirts of camp that morning, half-buried beneath some tangled roots. It was unmistakably hers—dark metal with a wicked curve, and elegant engravings tracing the hilt. You’d only seen her use it from afar, but even then, there was something mesmerizing about the way she wielded it, about the way her gaze sharpened whenever she held a blade. You were already a bundle of nerves at the thought of returning it to her, and that only got worse the closer you got to her tent.

She was sharpening a dagger when you approached, her expression focused, so much so that for a moment, you thought about turning back. But then she noticed you, her eyes snapping up to meet yours with a glint of curiosity.

“You’re looking rather… tense.” Her eyebrow arched slightly as she took you in.

Your heart thudded painfully, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to hold up the sword without dropping it. “Uh, I… found this for you. Your sword, I mean. It was… um, outside camp, and I thought you might want it back?”

Her gaze softened, a small smirk playing on her lips as she reached for the sword, her fingers brushing against yours. You nearly jumped at the contact, face burning, feeling like you might explode from embarrassment. You tried to say something else, but the words came out as a strangled squeak, and you practically forced yourself to look at the ground to avoid those piercing eyes of hers.

“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing over the sword, and then back at you. “Thank you. It's… refreshing to see someone with a sense of respect.” She held your gaze for a moment longer, and then, with an amused nod, she went back to her sharpening.

You quickly walked away, all but stumbling as you escaped, only to find yourself practically nose-to-nose with Shadowheart, who looked far too amused.

"Gods above," she snorted, crossing her arms. "I've never seen someone turn so red while returning a weapon."

You stammered, looking anywhere but at her. "I was just… trying to be polite!"

"Polite? If that's your version of polite, then I’d hate to see you actually try flirting," she teased, unable to hide her grin.

“Oh, please,” you huffed, looking away and trying to calm the blush still heating your face. “It's just… I don’t know. I like her, alright? Even if she’s… well, she could probably kill me without a second thought.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Good to know you’re aware. And yet you still act like a lovesick fool around her, it's almost like you want her to kill you."

“I would die happy!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up. “Minthara could do anything she wants to me—absolutely anything at all—and I’d thank her. She could stomp me into the dirt, call me a fool, hex me, curse me, make my life a living hell, and I'd still probably thank her with my last breath!”

Shadowheart laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re hopeless."

But you were too caught up in your rant. "I’d let her do anything—anything at all! She could make me fetch her supplies every morning, have me clean her sword every night, stand guard for her at dawn and dusk, and I’d still think it was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

"Ahem."

You froze, mid-rant, and turned slowly to find Minthara standing directly behind you. She looked deeply amused, one eyebrow raised, her eyes glittering with dark humor. Her smirk was even more wicked than usual, and her gaze held you captive as she stepped closer.

“Good to know,” she said, her voice smooth and cool, her smirk only growing. “I may have to test that loyalty sometime.”

She winked at you, and then, just as easily as she’d come, she turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there completely speechless, your face redder than ever.

Shadowheart burst out laughing, clutching her side as she watched you sway in shock. “You really have a gift for making a fool of yourself, you know that?”

You sank to your knees, stunned, still processing that Minthara had heard every single word. Shadowheart’s laughter rang in your ears, but you were simply too dazed to care. Perhaps that death would come quicker than expected - if your own heart didn't give out first.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Every time Lae’zel looked your way, you felt like a live wire, a rush of heat filling your face. She seemed to command every space she entered, her presence sharp, unapologetic, and utterly captivating. But whenever you were around her, every sentence became a tangle of stammered nonsense, and all you could do was blush helplessly. Today was no different.

You were fumbling with your supplies near the fire when Lae’zel walked over, her gaze scrutinizing as always.

"You’ve been acting strange,” she declared, crossing her arms and eyeing you critically. “Weakness of any sort is unacceptable. Are you unwell?"

Her bluntness only made you more flustered, words tripping over each other as you tried to respond. "No, I… I mean, yes, but not in that way. I mean, I'm fine. Completely fine.”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “You are not fine. You stammer, you lose color and gain it again. See Halsin or Shadowheart—this weakness needs mending.”

Desperate to reassure her, you tried to explain further, but each attempt seemed to make it worse. “I’m not… it’s not that kind of weakness, I just—well, around you, I—uh…”

She fixed you with a glare, her frown deepening. "Enough. Your words make less sense with every second. Perhaps you’re more ill than you realize.”

Your cheeks burned as she turned sharply to fetch Halsin, all but barking his name across camp. He arrived quickly, taking in the scene with a look of amused understanding.

“She is in poor health,” she said, gesturing at you. “They are losing control over their words and show clear signs of a fever. You will attend to them.”

Halsin’s brows lifted slightly, and with a knowing look, he glanced from you to Lae’zel. He gave a slow, considering nod. “Yes, I believe I see the trouble. An ailment, certainly… though it appears to be more of the heart than of the body.”

Lae’zel scowled, gripping her weapon as if ready for battle. “Explain this ‘heart ailment.’ What creature has inflicted it upon them?”

Halsin chuckled softly. “They’ve been bitten by a lovebug, Lae’zel. That’s all.”

Lae'zel let out a string of sharp Gith curses, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "A lovebug. Where does it lurk, this creature? If it is preying upon our camp, I’ll hunt it down myself and crush it beneath my blade."

Her fierce determination, though absurd, only made your heart race more. Halsin stifled a laugh, giving you a sidelong look of utter amusement.

“I think you’ll find that hunting it will be… difficult,” he said, barely hiding his grin. “The lovebug often prefers stealth, hiding within feelings rather than form.”

“Feelings, a psychic offender,” she repeated, her brow creasing in thought. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “It is trickier prey, then. But I will find it nonetheless.”

And with that, she strode off, muttering to herself about unknown threats to the camp. As soon as she was out of earshot, Halsin let out a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder. “You know, I think you may have just made a miraculous recovery.”

You let out a groan, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “Do you think she’ll ever realize?”

“Not any time soon, I’d wager,” he chuckled. “But watching her hunt for a creature that doesn’t exist… that’s something we’ll all enjoy.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart’s approach had been so unassuming, yet it immediately set your heart racing. You’d been minding your own business by the campfire, trying not to glance her way too much, when she’d walked over, looking perfectly calm and utterly oblivious to the effect she had on you. She needed help with a spell—one that apparently you could explain better than anyone else at camp. You tried to play it cool, managing a quick, slightly-too-high “Sure!” and hoping your pulse wasn’t visibly hammering in your throat.

Standing beside her, you began explaining the spell, hands trembling ever so slightly as you demonstrated the incantation.

“So…uh…you’ll want to focus your energy here, at the core…” you muttered, gesturing to the focus stone. You held it out for her to see, only to have her fingers brush yours, sending a jolt through you that nearly made you drop the thing.

“Like this?” Shadowheart asked, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. Her dark eyes held that same thoughtful curiosity, and your voice caught in your throat. It was hard enough trying to form sentences with her this close, let alone explain a complex spell.

“Y-yes. Like that,” you managed, each word coming out slightly unsteady. “And, uh, then you just…channel it gently, but with intention.” She tilted her head, leaning closer, following along with perfect focus.

Meanwhile, just behind her, Karlach was all but dying, barely containing her laughter as she watched you fumble. Her amusement was clearly at your expense, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glare at her. Your attention drifted back to Shadowheart just as she turned her attention to the final gesture of the spell.

Her hand rested over yours for a second too long, her voice soft as she asked, “Does this look right?”

You nodded dumbly, your brain too overloaded to form a coherent reply, and somehow muttered, “It’s, uh…very…graceful.” Internally, you cringed. Graceful?

Shadowheart, apparently too engrossed in the spell to notice your red cheeks, gave a small, content nod. She released your hand, oblivious to the way you quickly hid your trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” she said with a rare smile, her voice calm and warm. “I think I understand it now.”

She turned to leave, casting one last glance over her shoulder, which made you feel simultaneously light-headed and weak in the knees. You stared after her, still processing, trying to shake off the ridiculous butterflies. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until she was already out of earshot.

The second she was gone, Karlach burst out laughing, dropping her head back in utter delight.

“Gods! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were spellbound yourself,” she teased, unable to wipe the grin off her face. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Hopeless,” she declared, shaking her head at you with a mischievous gleam.

Heat flooded your face all over again as you groaned, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I know, okay? It’s…utterly hopeless,” you admitted, voice thick with defeat. Before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed her mug of beer straight from her hand and downed it in a few quick gulps, hoping it would somehow wash away the mortification you felt. Setting the empty mug down, you sighed deeply. “She didn’t even notice anything.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re very, very wrong,” Karlach countered, her smile twisting into something sly and secretive. She crossed her arms, leaning in as if sharing a precious secret. “Because she was definitely checking you out while you were showing her that spell.”

You froze, turning slowly to look at her, heart skipping a beat.

“You’re joking,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. There was a spark of hope, ridiculous but undeniable, blooming somewhere deep in your chest.

Karlach grinned wider, shaking her head. “Oh, no. She was stealing glances at you the entire time,” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “She’d peek up at you just when you weren’t looking, trying to act all serious, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. You might be as oblivious, but I’ve got eyes.” She winked, patting your shoulder in encouragement.

Your mind raced, playing the whole interaction back. You remembered how Shadowheart’s gaze had lingered, her voice soft, her questions coming slower, almost careful… Could Karlach really be right? Was it possible that Shadowheart had actually been…interested?

“Maybe there’s hope after all…” you mumbled, feeling that glimmer of excitement grow.

Karlach clapped you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking the air out of you. “There you go! Just keep stuttering and blushing—seems to be working like a charm.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll just have to keep embarrassing myself, then,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

Karlach’s laughter echoed across the camp, but her eyes held a genuine warmth as she said, “Well at least it’s a start. You’ll get there.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira's gaze was focused, unrelenting as she adjusted your grip on the scimitar. Her hands, warm and confident, guided yours over the hilt, showing you the correct angle, the precise strength you should use. Every time her hand brushed yours, you felt your heart stammer. You hoped she didn’t notice your flushed cheeks or the way your breath caught every time she leaned closer.

“Here,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. She moved to your side, adjusting the angle of your stance with the barest brush of her hand along your back. “It’s not about brute force,” she murmured, her voice so close it felt like a whisper. “It’s about control, understanding where the balance lies in every movement.”

You nodded, barely able to find your voice, managing only a stuttered, “Y-yes, of course.” But you were far more focused on her proximity than any of her advice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Astarion lounging a few paces away, arms crossed and a devilish grin spreading across his face. He had noticed, of course—there was no hiding it from his all-too-keen gaze. Before you could silently beg him to go easy on you, he stepped closer, feigning a helpful tone.

“Stick your rear out more,” he suggested, his voice laced with amusement. “Helps with balance. And I’m sure Jaheira would agree.” He flashed you a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Your face flamed, and you shot him a withering look.

“Thanks, Astarion,” you muttered under your breath, attempting to ignore him. But his smirk only widened, and he continued to watch, pleased with himself.

Jaheira, still adjusting your stance, gave you a quick nod, oblivious to your flustered state and Astarion’s antics.

“There you go,” she said, stepping back just enough to observe your form. “Much better.” She gave a satisfied nod and went on to demonstrate a quick series of strikes, her movements fluid and sure, each slash a picture of precision and elegance.

You could barely pay attention, completely distracted by the grace with which she wielded her weapon, the easy strength in her every move. As she looked back at you, catching you gawking, you fumbled to regain focus.

“Uh—yes! Right, like that!” you stammered, hurriedly attempting to mimic her motions.

Jaheira gave a small, amused smile before nodding approvingly. “Keep practicing that sequence. It’ll help build your control.”

As she left the clearing, giving you one last nod of encouragement, you could hardly breathe. You waited until she was out of sight before collapsing against Astarion, running a hand through your hair with a groan.

“I’m hopeless,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She probably thinks I’m a complete mess.”

“Oh, she definitely does,” Astarion said, his grin impossibly smug as he gave you a playful shove. “But she won’t have to wonder about it for long.”

You shot him a look, eyebrow raised in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Astarion’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I may have left your journal in her tent. You know, the one with the little poems in the margins?” He waggled his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

Your eyes went wide, horror settling over you as you gaped at him.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, dread turning your stomach. The journal held every embarrassing thought, every scribbled confession, every starry-eyed rant about Jaheira that you hadn’t dared speak aloud.

“Oh, but I did.” Astarion’s voice was light, mocking even, but his eyes held a teasing warmth. “Look on the bright side. At least now she’ll know how much you ‘admire her scimitar technique.’ among other things..”

You shrieked in exasperation, though a traitorous part of you couldn’t help but feel the faintest spark of excitement at the idea. You shoved Astarion, who merely laughed, delighted with himself, as you stood there in helpless anticipation, wondering how you’d ever face Jaheira again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Trying to stay composed around Gale was becoming increasingly impossible. You could barely string together a coherent sentence whenever he was nearby, your cheeks burning and your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it. It had gotten to the point that, during one of his magic lessons, you’d accidentally projected a very vivid thought about kissing him far into the Weave—and while he hadn’t directly addressed it, you had felt your face go scarlet the moment it happened.

Yet, despite that blunder and all your clumsy attempts to communicate the depths of your affection, Gale remained completely oblivious. And this state of suspended longing, this fruitless crush, was starting to drive you mad.

After another awkward lesson with Gale where you stumbled over your words and blushed at the mere brush of his hand over yours, you found yourself venting to Minthara, though you knew her to be an unlikely confidante. Her eyes held little sympathy, her arms crossed as she gave you a hard, skeptical look.

“Just grab the wizard and use him for your pleasure,” she suggested bluntly, as if it were the obvious solution. Her gaze was sharp and impatient. “You’re a warrior, not a blubbering fool.”

You shook your head quickly, horrified. “No, no, it’s not like that! I don’t just want him in some shallow way.” You sighed, your heart feeling tight. “I want to… to adore him. To look after him. To treasure everything about him, every small thing, every story he tells and every spell he casts. I want to worship him like he deserves.” You leaned into your words, almost forgetting who you were talking to in the rapture of your lovesick confession. “I want to make him feel like he’s the most cherished person in the world.”

Minthara recoiled as if you’d offended her sensibilities with such sentimentality, looking visibly revolted by your romantic ramblings. Her lips curled in distaste.

“By the darkness, are you even listening to yourself?” She gave an exasperated huff, then, with a roll of her eyes, she called across the camp, her voice clear as a bell. “Wizard!” she yelled, her tone commanding and fierce. “They want to go on their knees for you—are you going to do something about it, or will I have to rip out their tongue to stop their endless lovesick whining?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and before you could process the horror, Gale turned, an expression of curiosity mixed with surprise crossing his face as he started to walk over. You immediately whacked Minthara on the arm, panic rising as you whispered, “What are you doing?!”

Minthara looked at you with a smug indifference, ignoring your frantic scolding as if she’d done you the greatest favor.

“A strange way to show your gratitude,” she remarked drily, “given how much assistance I just rendered.”

By then, Gale had reached you both, his brows lifted in confusion, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“What’s all this about… someone going on their knees?” he asked, looking between you and Minthara, though his gaze lingered on you. His voice was gentle, though you could see the glimmer of curiosity—and something else—in his eyes.

You shot Minthara a glare, your face flaming, then took a steadying breath, turning to Gale.

“I—um,” you stammered, realizing there was no dignified way to explain this away. “I think… what Minthara was so eloquently trying to say is that I… might, uh, harbor feelings for you.” You paused, swallowing. “Quite a few of them, actually.”

Gale’s face softened, and a warm smile played at his lips, his hand reaching to touch yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, “it’s wonderful to know I’m not the only one who’s felt that spark.”

Minthara turned away, clearly satisfied, muttering something about lesser beings and their foolish emotions, but you hardly noticed her departure as your heart beat out of your touch, your greatest fantasies finally coming true.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Dinner had been an ordeal. Astarion sat beside you, closer than usual, his presence a tangible, almost overwhelming warmth. Every time he reached for something or murmured a comment, you felt yourself freeze, stumbling over your responses, blushing so furiously you’d started to worry it was noticeable. You could barely bring yourself to eat, much less speak, and by the end of the meal, you were sure you’d only embarrassed yourself.

That might have been manageable if it ended there. But just hours later, as the party approached a fortress with heavy guards stationed at the gates, Astarion took the lead, slipping into his charming, roguish element. He approached the security with a smooth, confident swagger, flashing that insouciant smile of his, every word a practiced melody of flattery and wit. He left them captivated, helpless to deny him as he led the party in with ease, his charm so intoxicating it almost felt like magic.

And while the others chuckled at his skillful maneuvering, you felt an unexpected ache in your chest. Watching him sway them so effortlessly stirred a pang of jealousy you hadn’t expected. Did he even notice the way you pined for him? The way every stray touch or knowing look from him seemed to linger long after he’d moved on?

Caught in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Gale was watching you with a raised brow. He leaned over, studying your expression with mild amusement and maybe a bit of pity.

“You look,” he began in a soft murmur, “like someone just killed a displacer kitten right in front of you.”

Startled, you forced a tight smile, trying to wave him off. “It’s nothing, Gale.”

“Nothing?” He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Please, you’ve been fawning over Astarion for ages now, your heart practically on display.”

There was a pause as you grappled with the admission, your face heating up, but at last, the dam broke, and you began to pour out your feelings in a quiet, hushed ramble.

“It’s just… my heart beats for him, Gale. Every time he speaks, I hang on his every word. I want nothing more than to just reach over, brush his hair back, and listen to him talk about all his little grievances—his so-called ‘inconveniences,’ his charms, all of it.”

Gale nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then his lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I suppose your dilemma is solved, then.”

Confused, you blinked, feeling a twist of dread. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” he said, chuckling, “just that you happened to be projecting that over the tadpole connection. Quite eloquently, I might add. The entire party heard every word by my predictions.”

You froze, horror dawning as you processed what Gale had just said. Every word, you realized, echoing faintly through the magical thread you shared. You dared a glance at the others, only to see Karlach giving you an encouraging thumbs-up and Shadowheart hiding a smirk behind her hand.

Then, to your ultimate mortification, Astarion strolled past, pausing just long enough to catch your eye. A sly grin played on his lips as he gave you a long, lingering look, his gaze glinting with amusement.

“Not to worry, darling,” he murmured, a teasing warmth in his voice, “I have plenty of inconveniences—and a few conveniences—to tell you all about. Shall we start tonight?”

His words sent a rush of heat up your spine, leaving you speechless as he gave a little wave, disappearing down the hallway. Gale patted your shoulder with a grin.

“See?” he said cheerfully. “All handled.”

You were left rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe, knowing that somehow you’d been caught, exposed—and that Astarion was, indeed, fully aware of the fact that your heart belonged to him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll’s presence seemed to have a gravitational pull all its own. Every time he smiled at you, every chivalrous gesture—offering his hand to help you up a steep path, or casually brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face—felt like a dream. A warmth filled your chest, so intense you could hardly look him in the eye, your words dissolving into stammered half-thoughts that trailed into silence. Each interaction left you breathless, embarrassed, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, he noticed how flustered he made you.

Training, however, was another story. Lae’zel was as intense as ever, barely giving you time to catch your breath between strikes. She was quick, sharp, and relentless, and it would have been more manageable—if you could actually focus. But each time she demanded your attention, your eyes kept wandering back to Wyll, who was a few feet away, talking to Shadowheart as he polished his sword. The way he moved, the way he spoke, that disarmingly warm smile…

It was only a matter of time before Lae'zel had enough.

She stepped back, arms crossed, leveling you with a look that could freeze lava.

“You’re distracted. Useless,” she declared, throwing down her sword with an exasperated sigh. “You pine like a hatchling, and it disrupts our sparring.”

You flushed, scrambling to come up with an excuse, but Lae’zel was already stomping off toward Wyll. You moved to intercept her, knowing she was the absolute last person who should reveal any of this. “Wait—Lae’zel, don’t!”

Lae’zel ignored you, her voice booming as she closed in on a bewildered Wyll.

“You,” she pointed at him, “this one wants to share their body with you.”

Wyll blinked, his eyes widening as he looked between you and Lae’zel, clearly trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

“I—what?” He looked at you, a blush rising to his cheeks as he fumbled for words. “I mean, I didn’t—wasn’t aware—”

Mortified, you didn’t think, you just acted, flinging yourself at Lae’zel with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. You tackled her to the ground, landing with a clumsy thud, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not…what I meant!” you stammered, trying to laugh it off to Wyll, who was still looking down at the both of you in complete bafflement. “What she means is—uh, we’re just, um, sparring partners! She’s…dramatic.”

Lae’zel raised an eyebrow, and with her typical stoicism, she bit down—hard—on the hand you’d used to cover her mouth. You yelped, jerking your hand back, and Lae’zel smirked, a silent satisfaction in her gaze as she sat up, looking entirely unapologetic.

Wyll was still staring, one eyebrow raised, lips quirking slightly in what looked like a restrained grin.

“I’m… not entirely sure I understand what’s going on here,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “But whatever it is, I’m flattered.”

You scrambled to your feet, rubbing your bitten hand, and tried to put together a coherent explanation, but every time you met his gaze, words seemed to fail you.

“Well… right,” you mumbled, feeling heat rise to your face as you threw a quick glare at Lae’zel, who simply shrugged, as if completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

Wyll’s expression softened as he watched you struggle to speak, and he smiled gently.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you and Lae'zel.”

That simple gesture—his kindness, the warmth in his voice—made you feel as if you’d forgotten how to breathe. You managed a nod, barely holding onto your composure, while he looked at you with that disarming sincerity that always left you reeling.

Lae’zel, watching the exchange with an air of smug victory, dusted herself off. “There. See? Problem solved. Now maybe you’ll stop sparring like a weakling.”

You shot her a glare, but Wyll chuckled softly, meeting your eyes with a spark of curiosity.

“If you ever want to train together,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you need only ask.”

And with that, he gave you a wink, leaving you in a breathless, heart-pounding daze as he walked back to his gear.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Every time you were around Halsin, it was like the ground slipped out from beneath you. His voice, that low, warm rumble, made your heart pound, and every casual touch seemed to ignite sparks across your skin. He was utterly unaware, of course; his gentle smiles and steady hands never betrayed a hint of understanding that he sent you reeling. You were sure that was the only reason you hadn’t completely given yourself away.

So when you returned to camp with an injury—a jagged cut on your arm from a goblin's arrow—you hoped it might go unnoticed. Shadowheart was busy, deep in her meditation as she restored her energy, and you thought you could handle the wound alone. But Jaheira spotted the blood trailing down your arm almost immediately. She arched a brow, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and amusement as she approached.

“Let’s have a look,” she said, but as she examined your arm, she shook her head with a soft sigh. “This needs a proper healer. Come on.”

Before you could protest, she’d already begun steering you toward Halsin’s corner of camp. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and a familiar warmth crept up your face. “Jaheira, no, really, I’m fine. It’s not even that deep. You could probably just—”

“Are you afraid of a little attention from the First Druid?” she teased, smirking as you stammered. “If you’re so sure you can handle it alone, why is your face turning as red as a blood hawk?”

You barely managed a protest before she’d called out to Halsin, who looked up from his work, his eyes sharpening with concern the moment he saw the blood seeping through your sleeve.

“Come here,” he said, his voice a blend of calm authority and quiet worry. He rose to meet you, his eyes never leaving the wound as he reached out, guiding you to sit down on a low stool beside him. His hands were warm, gentle but firm, and you felt heat flush up your neck and into your cheeks as he examined the wound.

Jaheira, leaning against a tent post with her arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with an amused glint in her eyes, a smile curving her lips as you struggled to steady your breathing. But Halsin didn’t notice; his focus was fully on your arm, his brow furrowed with concentration as his fingers brushed softly along the edges of the wound, checking its depth.

“It isn’t too deep,” he murmured in his gentle, rumbling voice. “But we don’t want to risk infection. I’ll clean it and make a poultice to help it heal.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the feeling of his hands—steady, reassuring, and just a little too close—sent your mind reeling. “Y-yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”

Halsin gave you a soft smile, the kind that seemed to reach into your chest and make your heart skip.

“Are you feeling alright otherwise? You look a bit flushed.” His eyes studied your face, brow creased in genuine concern. “Are you feverish?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question, and felt your face grow impossibly hotter. “No! No, not at all. I’m… I’m perfectly fine. Really. Just, um… It’s just… the wound.”

Jaheira couldn’t contain her amusement any longer; she snorted softly and rolled her eyes, muttering, “It’s certainly not the wound that has you blushing.”

You shot her a quick, desperate glare, but she only smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“A shame that our healer here clearly can’t see that particular ailment,” she added, just loud enough for you to hear.

Halsin looked between you and Jaheira, a slight confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned back to you with a gentle, almost affectionate smile. “Well, you should rest nonetheless. Even a small wound can bring on a fever if not treated with care.”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing light circles just above your collarbone as if to soothe you. It was a simple, instinctive gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, and you fought the urge to lean into his touch, to linger in the quiet strength he offered.

“Let me just…” His voice was soft, his attention focused on preparing the poultice as he worked with deft hands. But every so often, he’d glance up, catching your gaze with that calm, reassuring smile that made your heart race all over again.

Beside you, Jaheira leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He truly has no idea, does he?”

You felt a flicker of panic, but there was no use hiding it now. You muttered, barely audible, “Not the faintest clue.”

She chuckled, shaking her head with a mix of sympathy and sarcasm. “To be fair, you’re not making it particularly obvious.”

Before you could retort, Halsin returned with the poultice, carefully applying it to your wound with practiced gentleness. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin, his hands steady and warm, sent another wave of nervous energy through you. He worked in silence for a moment, his gaze focused, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“There,” he said softly, finishing the bandage. “That should hold for now. And I’ll make more of the poultice tonight to ensure it heals properly.”

You managed a shaky nod, trying to form words but only managing a faint, “Th-thank you.”

Halsin’s smile deepened, and he placed a final, reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s my pleasure to help. But if you do start feeling feverish, promise you’ll come to me immediately.”

“Yes. Of course,” you stammered, hardly able to meet his gaze. Jaheira watched you, her smile widening as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re sick with something,” she muttered, just loud enough for Halsin to hear.

Halsin’s brow furrowed in mild concern, and he tilted his head toward her, curious. “Sick with what, precisely?”

You shot Jaheira a desperate look, but she only shrugged, that teasing glint in her eye.

“Nothing a nice cold dip in the river can't fix.,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she turned to walk away, leaving you to face Halsin’s warm, questioning gaze.

“If you’re certain you’re well…” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your hand in a final gesture of reassurance before he let go. “But do take it easy tonight. I’ll check in on you later, just to be sure.”

As he stood and walked away, you sat there, still reeling, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Perhaps during his check in later, you would actually do something about it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was actually so cute to write aha, I hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

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starglitterz · 1 year ago

Text

♡ SPICY. // PART TWO

❝ tell me what you see when you look at me, 'cause i am a ten out of ten, honestly. ❞ // attractive things the genshin men do <3

✧ feat ; albedo, dainsleif, gorou, itto, kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, scaramouche, tighnari, zhongli x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; fluff, suggestive, (kinda???) modern au for itto, extremely suggestive for itto + neuvi

✧ a/n ; woahhh it's been like ten thousand years since the release of part one but here's part 2 finally ! i doubt anyone was actively waiting for this LOL but regardless i hope you enjoy it!

part one︱part two

✦ as an alchemist, you’d expect ALBEDO to always be in a white lab coat stained with all manner of chemicals, but he’s the opposite – he’s always dressed to the nines in formalwear, with his trademark coat layered on top of it to keep him from freezing in dragonspine. he only ever removes it when he’s visiting you in mondstadt. in the quiet of your peaceful apartment, albedo will be busy preparing dinner, and you feel like a starving victorian man when you see him roll his sleeves up, exposing the rare sight of his pale wrists. his fingers are long and slender too, but there’s something about the way the white fabric of his dress shirts clings to his forearms, emphasising his lean muscle and making you wonder if you’re drooling. you’re pretty sure he’s caught you staring way too many times, but he always just gives you a soft smile – he can’t understand why you’d admire him like this when you’re the one he’s always believed to be a masterpiece.

✦ dating DAINSLEIF is a quiet affair. he’s not one for over-the-top gestures or grand proclamations of his love, but he never fails to make it known that he absolutely adores you with his whole heart. between the two of you, you’re the one who always talks more, always chattering away endlessly about your latest fancy. but no matter what you’re prattling on about, dainsleif will always tilt his head and gaze at you as if you’re giving a speech on the most interesting topic in the world. he’ll even have a small smile gracing his lips, his usually stern expression now softening into one far more gentle. he’ll even nod and ask all the right questions, proving that he was paying attention the entire time. and if you ever feel guilty for talking so much, he’ll instantly reassure you that your voice is music to his ears, and if he could he’d listen to it forever.

✦ some days, it’s like GOROU can’t even believe he’s dating you. he’s just so adorable, getting incredibly flustered whenever you even breathe in his direction. his face turns bright red and he starts stumbling over his words, barely able to string together words into coherent sentences. or if by some miracle he manages to keep his composure, his tail is a dead giveaway – it’ll be wagging at the speed of light whenever you praise him. you could be doing the most mundane tasks like laundry or washing dishes, and he’d still look at you with heart eyes as if you hung the very stars in the sky.

✦ without a doubt, ITTO has no clue how attractive he is. once you move in together, he’ll just always walk around shirtless, even though you squeal in surprise whenever you see him. i mean c’mon, who could blame you? the oni is ripped thanks to all the hours he spends at the gym, and when you see his muscles flexing, showing off the gleaming red tattoos illustrated across his back and torso, you have to excuse yourself because you swear you’re seriously about to start barking. to make things worse, he always pairs it with those stupid baggy grey sweatpants that make you actually want to pounce on him – it’s always a struggle to keep your eyes on his face. you’re beginning to think he knows the effect though, because you always end up in the bedroom together when he wears them.

✦ KAZUHA is the type of boyfriend who adores casual skinship. wherever you are, he’ll always find some way to touch you – whether it’s an arm wrapped around your waist, his head leaning on your shoulder, his fingers intertwined with yours… the list is endless. but his absolute favourite has to be when you wear shorts. one of his hands somehow always ends up on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. it isn’t necessarily heated, it’s just comforting for him to know you’re there beside him. but you’re aware of his intentions whenever he starts doing it under the table in public, merely tilting his head to give you a playful smirk and a wink that’s imperceptible to anyone else.

✦ the entirety of fontaine knows that LYNEY is a flirtatious rascal. yet with you, he thinks he’s met his match. the two of you are constantly bantering, attempting to outdo one another in gifts and pick-up lines and dates – lynette says you both are more like competitors than partners. however, it’s just the way the both of you show affection. but there’s one move that LYNEY knows will always guarantee him the win. you’ll be chattering away, planning out your next date, and suddenly his magician hands are at your waist, fingers slipping into your belt loops to tug you closer before pressing a mischievous kiss on your lips. your shocked and flustered expression always makes his day.

✦ as the iudex of fontaine, it makes sense that NEUVILLETTE is not one for tomfoolery. but when it comes from you, he always seems to accept whatever pranks or teasing you throw his way. but sometimes, if you’re acting up too much in public, all it takes is one look from him to set you back in line. his dark blue eyes narrow as he glances at you, lifting one brow as if to ask if you’re really willing to keep going like this. that decision is up to you – will you continue misbehaving, crossing the line to see just what he’ll do? or will you be good and quiet down in the hopes that he’ll reward you?

✦ everybody knows that SCARAMOUCHE is a brat. that doesn’t change when he somehow becomes your boyfriend. he likes pushing your buttons, always wondering when you’re going to tip over the edge. even just simple requests will prompt him to reply ‘“oh yeah?” “make me.” “mhmm.”’ and it drives you up the wall. not just because it’s annoying, but also because it’s strangely attractive to see the way he raises his eyebrow and leans back in his seat, a smug smirk playing about his lips. but fear not, the easiest way to get him to behave is just by grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss. he’ll be so surprised that he’ll instantly go do whatever you told him to just so that you don’t see his blushing face.

✦ it’s 100% a green flag when men are willing to explain things to you instead of assuming you wouldn’t be able to grasp the concept, and TIGHNARI is a shining example of this. as the chief of the forest rangers, he’s extremely well-versed on everything related to sumeru’s jungles, and this extends to skills outside of foraging, as he’s also talented at cooking and preparing medicines. if you’re curious or eager to learn, he’ll always explain it to you in a way that makes it easy for you to understand, and even if you don’t, he’s very patient, and will answer every single one of your questions no matter how dumb you may think they are until you get it. seeing the proud smile on his face once you successfully achieve whatever he taught you is more than enough incentive for you to rush to learn even more from your beloved boyfriend.

✦ ZHONGLI is the type of lover that comes once in a millenia (which is probably how long he’s been alive too). he’s the whole package; sweet, caring, smart, not to mention handsome! (the only problem is that he’s constantly broke…) you’re lucky to have him as your boyfriend, and the first time you realised this was when the two of you were walking through a busy crowd in liyue’s bustling harbour while trying to run some errands. upon sensing your discomfort at how the strangers were unintentionally jostling you and bumping into the two of you, ZHONGLI wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him to put more space between you and everyone else walking past. once the crowd thins out, he’ll guide you with his hand on the small of your back, the warmth a gentle reminder that he’ll always be there for you.

yeah sorry i deserve to be sent to horny jail for some of these 😭 HAHAHA js be glad cyno was in part one bc the things i want to do to that man... Unspeakable

#✏️ — quill writes !#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #dainsleif x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #kazuha x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #astronetwrk #genshin fluff

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saphig-iawn · 1 month ago

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Behind Frosted Glass

Inspired by a certain story, one of my dolls asked if she could have a Good Girl Button.

She was so excited by the way in which should be so easily rewritten. Little tweaks and changes, here and there.

But what really excited her was the idea that I could just record over memories. I could omit little things or construct something new.

She wanted so desperately to be a plaything, programmable by whoever plays with her.

So, after fractionating her pretty little mind until it was putty in my hand, I wove my ribbon between my fingers and into her.

It took her a while to come to after I counted her back up. She's a bit of a glutton for fractionation.

She was so happy to have gone so deep, but we didn't waste time in getting to play.

I asked her a simple question.

Would you be a good girl and touch your forehead for me?

There was a hesitation in her movement, but she obeyed and-

Night night doll!

Bye bye brain!

No matter my teasing, she remained limp in her chair, brain off, just a mindless empty doll.

I counted her up and she awoke with a wonderful smile on her face. I've had this doll for some time now but I recognise that smile. A small part of her was still in a little bit out of doubt, just a tiny piece of doubt, which was immediately quelled by her Good Girl Button working just as she had fantasised.

But then I asked her to hold the button.

Now her mind was like an open microphone, recording anything I told it.

I told her a very simple thing.

That she had a deep arousal that need tending but she just can't remember how to do it.

I counted her up and her hips bucked and thighs squeezed the moment I reached the end.

Her eyes clenched, she bit her bottom lip.

And then she began to twist her arms.

She knew she needed to feed that hunger between her legs but there was static on the line that the signals from her brain were trying to travel along.

Phantoms of muscle memory trying to reach out but being pushed back by the little spell.

Her intimate areas became uncharted territory and it was delightful to watch her try but wonderfully fail at pleasuring herself.

Her moans were delicious, equal parts frustration and pleasure.

While she was on my lap I also wove a lovely pleasure spell, that a snap of my fingers would send pleasure coursing through her.

So to tease and torture I would snap my fingers while she was trying to scratch that itch.

By the time we were done she was a puddle, barely able to string a word together, let alone sentences.

I cooed and coddled her, turning her into a soft ragdoll to ease away the stresses of the scene.

When her mind finally returned to her, she said something beautiful about the experience.

That it was like her memory was trapped behind frosted glass, amorphous and vague, but tantalisingly recognisable, like it was on the tip of her tongue.

I am going to have so much fun with these new spells.

#saphiposting #hypnodomme #hypnok1nk #hypnotic #trance #brainwash #brainwashing #hypnosis #mind control #erotichypnosis #memory play

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virescent-v · 5 months ago

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Appetizer

Summary: This is a shitty combination of two prompts I've had sitting in my inbox for awhile now. "Take your top off and open another bottle of wine for mommy" from Paget during a Drunk History episode and one where Emily teases reader in public. A/N: Idk how I feel about this one besties. The idea took hold and then this happened. If it's bad, I blame it on the fact that I haven't written/posted anything in months...and also my adhd running rampant during this writing session. But it did feel good to get words on a doc and to send it out to the internet void. Enjoy!

Warnings: It's smut! (Surprise, surprise! lol). If there are any typos, don't tell me Word count: 2.3k

When Emily cornered you in your bedroom before leaving for the restaurant, pressing your back against your vanity, you thought she was just going to kiss you senseless, leave you breathless, a taste of what’s to come later when you got back home.

What you didn’t expect was for her to be kissing up your neck, whispering all the things she wants to do to you, as her fingers found their way up under your tight, little, skirt.

With your head tilted back, each choking breath stuttering from your mouth, you tried to speak, to tell Emily you were going to be late to your reservation, but it didn’t seem like she was bothered by that fact.

“I want to try something tonight, love,” she whispered against the shell of your ear. You weren’t even sure you could speak with how much she had already gotten you worked up, so you simply, albeit shakily, nodded.

Emily pulled back from you, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. She reached around you to an unremarkable box on your vanity that you had missed earlier. Slowly, she pulled the lid off, each second seemingly passing with each breath you took.

When the lid finally popped off, Emily glanced up at you, now a little more cautious than she was a few moments ago. Peeking inside, you could see a dark purple bullet vibrator nestled inside a cocoon of velvet.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emily hesitated, her eyes on the toy. Running her finger lightly over the smooth, silky-like silicon, she whispered, “I want you to wear this. To dinner. It comes with a remote for me to control. We’ve never talked about doing something like this, so you have every right to say no.”

Her eyes met yours. In them, you could see her want for this, but more importantly, her want for you to feel comfortable with doing something like this. Emily usually took lead with things like this, but you were always the one actually in charge.

Leaning in, you kissed her slowly, pouring every ounce of want and love into it. Leaning back, you took a deep breath. “I want to. I trust you, Em. I know you’ll stop if I need or want to and you’d never put me, or us, in any harmful situation.”

Emily released the breath she seemed to be holding, a smile spreading across her mouth. “You’re right. Now, panties off, angel.”

***

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

You were barely able to string together sentences to answer the questions that the waiter kept asking you in regards to your food and order. You were pretty sure that your cheeks had been flushed since you entered the building.

Emily was a master at playing with you - with playing with the remote that was nestled in her pocket. She’d turn the settings to different vibrational patterns, watching as your breathing would match the pace that the toy set inside you. She paid close attention to the way the faster settings would have you gripping the edge of the table, the way the pulsating settings made you squirm in your seat. A combination of both would have you biting your lip in hopes of stifling the moans that wanted to escape.

You didn’t know what was hotter; the way you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each quiver of the toy inside you, or the way Emily leaned back in her seat, enjoying the view of you trying to hold yourself together.

Being so skilled at reading your body language, Emily knew exactly when you were reaching the precipice, ready to topple over the edge right there at the table.

The problem, however, is that she wouldn’t let you.

Worse, you couldn't even ask for her to let you cum. Every time you tried, your voice got strangled in your throat, caught between a moan and a curse that you had to swallow so as to not make your situation…obvious to the other patrons at the restaurant.

Thankfully, when your food finally arrived, Emily took pity on you and turned the vibrator completely off.

“How are you doing, pretty girl?”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. Almost. “You know exactly how I’m doing, Em.”

Emily chuckled. “I sure do, but I enjoy hearing you say it anyways.”

You were starting to feel a little…bratty… from the fact that you hadn’t been able to cum yet and the fact that you weren’t even sure when you would be allowed to.

But two could play this game.

With an almost bored, casual tone, you picked at your nails as you said, “I’m so wet, I’m not entirely sure it hasn’t gone through my dress yet. I love the feel of the toy inside me, but I wish it was your fingers or your strap instead.”

You watched as Emily blinked a few times, her mouth agape, not anticipating you responding like that. You knew how much she loved it when you talked dirty, but she didn’t expect you to say it like that, nor in such a public place.

She cleared her throat as you took slight pleasure in the fact that you had her flustered for once this evening. “Mind your words, princess. I can edge you even after we get home,” she said, her eyebrow raised.

Part of you wanted to push back, lean into the bratty headspace you could feel yourself drifting into. But you knew Emily and that tone of voice. She wasn’t kidding. One time, she edged you for hours and still didn’t let you cum. Then proceeded to not let you cum for days. You didn’t want a repeat of that experience.

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock saluted.

Emily just smiled, amused at your antics, and continued to eat.

You weren’t sure what to make of it; you expected her to fire back with some other quick-witted, snarky, sexy response. It kind of tilted you off axis, not sure of what happened.

You decided to ignore it, picking up your fork to continue eating. However, once the food was on your fork and halfway to your mouth, Emily turned the vibrator on to its highest setting. The surprise vibrations sent your fork clunking back onto the table, drawing the gaze of a few other patrons.

“Emily,” you hissed under your breath, your jaw clenched, as you tried to gesture an apology to the people sitting near you.

Another smirk graced her pretty face. “Hurry up and finish eating, love. I want to enjoy dessert at home,” she said with a wink.

***

You weren’t sure you were walking straight. Every few steps Emily would change the vibration pattern and it would cause your knees to buckle. If you stopped to regain your balance, or to breathe through the pleasure, Emily would turn the vibrator off completely. Even though they were absolutely ruined, you were thankful for your lace panties. Otherwise, you’re not sure the toy would even still be inside you with how wet you were.

Reaching the door, you fumbled with your keys, struggling to find the right one, and struggling further to get it in the slot to turn the lock.

You heard Emily chuckling lowly behind you.

Finally getting the door open, you rushed inside, throwing your stuff on the small table by the door and kicking your shoes off.

Turning around as Emily shut the door behind her, you went to pull her towards you, but she put her hand up.

“I meant it when I said I wanted dessert at home, love,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the kitchen.

You wanted to whine. You wanted to scream. You were so pent up you didn’t think you were going to be able to last another minute, let alone however long it took for Emily to eat whatever dessert she had in mind.

You kept your mouth shut, figuring it was better to play along with her plan than to cause more issues for yourself later.

Walking to the fridge, Emily pulled out a small cheesecake that you hadn’t known about. She grabbed plates and cutlery, serving you both small slices. Before you could start on yours, Emily’s hand went up again stopping you. “Uh uh, wait a second. Do me a favor and take your shirt off and open up a bottle of wine for mommy,” she smirked, licking her fork of the smooth dessert.

You gulped, walking over to the wine fridge and pulling out a wine you knew went well with desserts. You pulled the glasses down, pouring a healthy amount into each. Before turning around, you slowly unbuttoned your blouse before sliding it off of your shoulders. You unhooked your bra and let that fall to the floor as well. Grabbing the wine glasses, you turned around, watching as Emily looked you up and down.

You sauntered up to her, placing the glasses on the table. You waited until she looked up at you from her chair before you slowly unzipped your skirt, letting gravity take it to the ground. You watched as Emily’s hands flexed as if she wanted to reach out to you, but she managed to refrain. She licked her lips before looking back up at you.

Pushing her legs together, you straddled her lap. As you sat down fully, you sharply inhaled as your laced covered cunt made contact with Emily’s dress pants. The urge to grind down, to feel the friction where you needed it most, overtook you.

You got a few good rolls of your hips in before Emily’s hands shot out to your body, grabbing harshly at your waist. Even the bruising pressure of her fingers on your skin was turning you on further, a desperate mewl escaping your lips.

“Such a desperate whore for me, hm? Couldn’t even wait until I finished my cheesecake.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth, struggling in Emily’s grasp to move your hips. You were tired of playing her game, not even bothering to disagree with her. “I need to cum, please, Em,” you begged, your beautiful eyes trying their hardest to convince her.

“Fine, if you want to be so needy, you can cum. But I’m not going to touch you.”

Your eyes blew wide, watching as Emily pulled the remote back out of her pocket immediately pressing buttons to turn on one of the fastest, pulsating modes.

Your hands shot out to her shoulders, your head falling back as a nearly obscene moan tumbled from your mouth. “Fuck.” Your hips started to move once more, the friction of the lace against your swollen clit hitting just right.

“Go ahead, baby. Get yourself off on my lap.” Ignoring what she said moments earlier, unable to resist how tantalizing you looked, Emily’s hands started moving around your body, her fingers trailing over your sweat-slicked skin. They grabbed at your hips, forcing you down, making you grind faster before gripping your ass. She trailed them up, caressing the soft skin of your belly, trailing up to your heaving breasts, fondling your stiff peaks. Her hands never stayed in one spot long, as if she couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch you, as if she wished she had more than two hands.

“Fuck, look at you. Riding me so well.” Emily brought her lips to your neck. “You look so pretty like this, flushed and needy and mine.”

You couldn’t stop the moans from escaping. Each grind down - and back and forth - of your hips had your pussy clenching harder around the toy. With each movement of your body, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, if it was even possible. You could smell your arousal, so strong from hours of Emily teasing you.

The toy felt so good inside of you, each buzz and pulse sent tingles through your body and down your spine, each vibration igniting a fire deep within your belly.

You could quickly feel yourself getting close, the constant edging doing most of the work for you. It likely wouldn’t be your best orgasm - you meant it when you said you’d rather have her fingers or her cock - but something, at this point, was better than nothing.

“Come on, baby. Come all over my lap so I can take you upstairs and clean you up with my mouth.”

The vision of Emily between your legs, thighs wrapped around her face, with her tongue licking at your drenched cunt was enough to send you over the edge, Emily’s name repetitively falling from your lips like a broken prayer.

As you came down, Emily stroked your hair away from your face, peppering small kisses over any part of you that she could reach. She kept whispering affirmations, things you’d heard a thousand times, but would hear a million more.

You don’t know what you did to deserve a love as grand as Emily Prentiss, but you weren’t going to question it.

Pulling back from you, Emily looked at you with all the love in the world. “How does a bath sound?”

You tilted your head a bit, raising your eyebrow at her. “What happened to you cleaning me up with your tongue?”

Tapping your hip lightly, signaling for you to get up off of her lap, Emily snickered lightly. “You have until I get upstairs to be naked and on your hands and knees, pretty girl.”

You kissed her lightly on the cheek, a mischievous grin on your face, before racing up the stairs.

“Oh! And leave the toy in!” She called after you.

She heard a faint moan - or was it a groan? - echo down the stairs, an almost evil smirk breaking out across her face.

Looks like that orgasm was just the appetizer of the evening.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #virescent v fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x you #no use of y/n

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call-me-little-sunshine84 · 3 months ago

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Last Call

Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader

MDNI - 18+

pairing - Paddy x female reader

summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not

w/c - 1400+

t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?

a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time

Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.

You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.

You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…

There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?

Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.

“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.

“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.

You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.

He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.

The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.

Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.

He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.

One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.

“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.

You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.

Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.

“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”

#speak no evil #james mcavoy #paddy x female reader #patrick feld #paddy speak no evil #speak no evil 2024 #paddy smut

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ruruumin · 23 days ago

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young

₊˚ ᗢ canon! alhaitham x gn! reader.

⤷ inspired by this guitar cover of young girl a. 2.4k words.

as the official recordkeeper of the akademiya, the burden of notetaking and historical artifacts rests upon your hands. students and scholars come to you with their discoveries, hoping to be kept alive through history books and beyond. much of their research is rubbish, half-haphazardly put together in an attempt to seem great.

days stretched out longer than they needed to. work becomes overbearing. it seeps into the corners of your mind. going out with tighnari didn’t help, drinking tea with collei did nothing to soothe the ache in your jaw and hand. a close friend of yours from the same darshan expressed the worries of drinking too much coffee. but nothing was helping. your mind was burning up. your fingers felt like they were on fire. and it couldn’t have been just your pyro vision.

your brain felt like a string being pulled too hard you can hear the vibration wringing the air. you keep your head low in your office, praying to lesser lord kusanali that there won’t be another person coming through those now worn-out doors. you have your hand pressed against your forehead, your eyes peeking through the cracks of your fingers, furiously writing a report upon someone's recent expedition.

don’t forget to write about how they entered the desert runes. add the part where they stumbled next to the entrance. make sure you indent here. transcribe every part of their dialogue as perfectly as you can. do it as if you were there. these racing thoughts were doing nothing but pulling you back and forth, pushing you toward the edge you could see the bottom of. your breaths felt hot. your skin was sweating. everything was damp and sticky.

you grip your vision tightly, trying to hold out as much as possible before exhaustion could hit you like a train. in the confines of your office, you think about unspeakable things. what would alhaitham do? that snarky, know-it-all scribe, what would he do in this situation? would he stress out like you are? does he even feel stressed? are you just competing against some robot with no emotions? what if he couldn’t even feel pain at all? why were you thinking of him at all?

perhaps it was all the time you spent in your younger years at the akademiya, having been in the same darshan as him once before graduating and going back to school for a second diploma. maybe it was the way he constantly one-upped you in everything you did. one point off of a test score. one second behind his mile time. hell, he even got the job of acting grand sage so easily, while you had to work your ass off sucking up to the previous recordkeeper. why was it so easy for him to become a scribe and grand sage?

he never had to say it out loud, but the look in his eyes, the turquoise gaze that he leaves you when the doors close, made you all the more furious.

you wanted his job so badly. being a recordkeeper was the closest thing you could have that was remotely similar to sumeru’s scribe. you might not be able to get the same amount of pay or recognition, but it was something. you could still put your love for writing and history into books. all of it would be great. you could be satisfied. if only you didn’t want more.

the ticking clock is like a metronome. click. click. click. one sentence down. the next one. click click click. halfway there, if you push a little harder, click, click, click and run through your thoughts one more time, click, click, click, you can finish this in less than an hour. click. click.

what happened to the third click? you look up and see a familiar face staring down at you. his lips were squeezed tightly together into the same thin line you always saw in the classroom.

“when was the last time you slept?” he asks, raising his hand to your forehead as you lean back in your chair, barely escaping his grasp.

you raise a few fingers, eyes glancing down at your paper. “one… three.. one and a half hours.” he lets out a huff, sounding rather disappointed in your answer.

“the well-esteemed recordkeeper, unable to keep record of their sleep. how ironic is that.”

“if you came here to taunt me, you know the door is that way.”

he doesn’t say anything in this instance. no response. no backtalk. he’s so eager to jump on any flaws you exhibited, and suddenly, when you gesture towards the door, trying to be unfazed by his comments, he is quiet. it grosses you out.

“tighnari told me you weren’t doing so well. looks like you've been working on this paper for a while now." he brushes back a few strands of his hair, "you know, you could always ask me for help. as a scribe, i have some knowledge of recordkeeping.”

there it is.

really? tighnari had to tell him? had you known he was going to tell the scribe, you would have never said anything. you want to be frustrated at him but knowing how kind he is, he was surely doing it out of the kindness of his heart. your reply to alhaitham has a sharp, sarcastic tone.

“what don’t you know? don’t you know everything already?

“stop making it sound like i’m so much better than you.” his response was instant this time.

you grip your pen tightly, fingers trembling at the pressure. that’s what he gets out of all of this? you thought after being academic rivals for so long, he’d know how you feel about him. and the reasons why you’d even villainize him in the first place. was he always this blind? questions were racing through your thoughts again and for once in your life, you wished that the entire world could just disappear so you could have a moment of peace.

“you don’t understand, alhaitham,” you start, teeth trembling, “i don’t think you do.”

“yes, i don’t understand why you’re pushing so hard. you’re only a recordkeeper, the job doesn’t require much other than documentation. but regardless, i won’t know unless you tell me.”

slamming the pen down, you raise yourself from the chair, slapping him across the face as he looks back at you in utter surprise. the skin on his cheek was beginning to grow red. your entire body felt cold the moment those seven words came out, and yet the anger you felt was warming you up from the inside.

i won’t know unless you tell me.

so ignorant. so blind. that’s what he was. and you despise him for it.

“only documentation? that’s what you got? i’m just working so hard over nothing, right? this is just some stupid job, it’s not even as special as your lavish one. i’m no grand sage. no scribe. i’m not even a matra. i’m just some lowly recordkeeper that has to write about everyone else’s accomplishments, while i have absolutely none to my name."

you can't control your words. "do you know how many times i have to write your name down? for everything you did for sumeru? for lesser lord kusanali?”

the air is growing hot, and so is your skin. did anyone leave the doors open? where was the breeze? who turned on the heater? your head was beginning to feel light. “sorry, maybe i’m too stupid for you. not everyone has the mind of grand sage.”

“grand acting–”

“my apologies, grand acting sage. not everyone is like you.”

“like what?” he says, a lower tone following his words, “rational? logical? cool-headed? have you forgotten everything you learned in haravatat? or has switching to a new darshan made your brain forget the lessons our professor taught about burnout?”

you? burned out? those words hover over you like a looming darkness. “you seriously–can’t understand.”

“understand what?”

don’t say words you can’t take back.

“that i hate you!” a scream ripped through your throat, ah, there it is.

“i despise you. i hate everything about you. you’re so nonchalant about everything, when we graduated, all you could say was ‘oh, thanks.’ even when you’re declared grand acting sage, you didn’t show an ounce of gratefulness or humility. you saw it as some kind of chore when that job–your job! was all i ever wanted!”

everything was spilling out of your mouth like bile. with your vision heating up to burn the surface of your skin, you fail to see the hurt in his eyes. the flinch his fingers carried, and the way he stepped back at the raise of your voice.

“so i don’t understand why they gave it to you when you–fuck– you don’t even care! you don’t care about anything! so now i don't even know why i do!” squeezing your eyes shut, you block out all the unnecessary noise that isn’t your voice. “i tried so hard, i switched darshans so i could do more, but the best i could do is be some shitty recordkeeper that can’t even handle a few paperwork.”

"of course the grand acting sage of sumeru can't understand the feeling of being mediocre. after all, you're the perfect alhaitham. grand acting sage alhaitham. sumeru's feeble scribe alhaitham. the know-it-all jackass alhaitham!" you run your fingers through your hair, pulling on it, "fuck, can't you just show me that you're at least grateful that you got the job, the one that i've been working so fucking hard for in the past few years."

“this is a joke.”

you let out a gasp when his hand reaches out to grab you by the face, squeezing your cheeks tightly. “the only person being ungrateful here is you. are you even hearing yourself right now? being a recordkeeper is a huge accomplishment. you’re doing what many sumerians can only dream of doing. graduating from two darshans? how many people can you name off of one hand that can do that? lisa only graduated from one. most of us did. and here you are, having done two.”

"if it was me in your shoes, having done two darshans back to back, would you say the same thing?"

"hah? of course not–"

"so why are you wasting your breath complaining about yourself?" those words hurt a lot more than you thought they would. but what did you expect? some sympathy after all of this?

a laugh is choked out of you, “yeah, i guess you’re right. i should be more happy that i got this job. after all, i’m just some spoiled brat to you.” his hold tightens up, veins bulging from his wrist. despite the change of tone in his voice, the expression on his face conveys a different feeling. one that is mixed. you don't know how to describe it.

“did you even listen to me?”

“i don’t know. what did you say anyway?” your body trembles. fingers wrapping around his hand, trying to loosen his grip as tears swell. you wish you had the strength to clamp your jaw shut.

“i don’t even know what i’m doing anymore.”

his turquoise eyes begin to soften. his grip losing its strength. this gives you the moment you need to breathe.

he doesn’t know what to say. for someone so adamant on accomplishing what is seen as extraordinary, you didn't see it at all. to him, you were a ball of sun, a brightly shining star that could never lose its color or flame. seeing you like this is twisting his hearts in ways he cannot fathom.

he thought it would be nice seeing you vulnerable, to see you at your most raw. he always liked how enthusiastic you were about beating him. but he doesn’t know if he feels this way anymore. you, at your wit’s end, despite graduating in haravatat and having experience in a multitude of languages, being unable to come up with a proper response was more than heartbreaking. it makes him feel sick.

and before you can push him away, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest. this unexplained action is incomprehensible to you. and you fear that he's doing this out of pity.

the air grows quiet as he’s pensively thinking.

“i’m sorry,” his voice is as soft as a mouse. its timid, something you never thought to hear from the grand acting sage himself.

“i don’t know if this is what you wanted to hear. but i don’t think of you any less. i’m sorry my actions made you feel that way. being a recordkeeper is a lot harder than i made it out to be. you have to balance everyone's story and make sure they're all written accurately and true.” he is unsure if this is the right thing to say at the moment, but it's the only thing he feels is true.

“i was too harsh on you because i thought it might push you forward. i thought things were the same as they were in the akademiya. but now that we're older, i see that the way i treated you was... more than wrong."

he wants to bite his tongue, humiliation burning through his cheeks like a bullet wound. "there is a lot that you should be proud of. so..." he is beginning to mumble, "don't cry." that last part comes out like a question.

you hesitantly hold onto him, keeping him close to you as if he’s the last person on teyvat. alhaitham, the great one himself, was giving you an apology. a rather heartfelt one too, even if he seemed inexperienced in it. you should be a little grateful he had the guts to tell you rather than pass around notes as he did when you were younger.

you shiver when his hand runs down your spine, moving up and down to comfort you. you could feel your vision pulsate in reaction. your heartrate spiking. if the past you saw where you were now, they’d be mortified. to think you’d be this close to the one person you considered your worst enemy. and despite that, sharing this moment of vulnerability with him was oddly comforting.

it made everything feel okay.

a breath is drawn out of you, one that was flimsy and weak, “i’m scared.”

“what are you scared of?”

“i don’t know what to do,” your words come out shaky, “i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. this job, my feelings…all this work that’s piling up, students who are counting on me, everyone– what am i supposed to do?”

“is there supposed to be a manual?”

your jaw locks up in an attempt to hold back a laugh. you instead roll your eyes, trying to force him off of you but he remains glued to you, intent on keeping you as close as possible. almost as if you’d fly away if he loosened up a little. maybe you’d burn up like a star, suck the entire universe with you, including him.

“point is, even if you don’t know what to do, there is still plenty of time. if you need to take a break, then do so. travel the world if you have to. leave sumeru and find your purpose.” the last part was more for exaggeration and dramatics. he'd rather die than admit he doesn't want to see you leave sumeru.

he presses his forehead against yours, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “those scholars can wait. it's not the end of the world if they don’t get their measly report written.”

“but–”

“relax. you and i know they’re all pretty whiny. would it kill you to just take a break so you don’t have to listen to them?” his comment finally breaks a snort out of you.

“you’re as good as you are. without you, a lot of what we’ve learned and experienced might get lost. being a recordkeeper is still a very esteemed title. it won’t be hard to ask for a raise.”

“you joke too much.”

“kaveh says i don’t do it enough.”

you inhale another deep breath, noting the smell of sage and pinewood on his shirt. it's rather earthy (and you were surprised to know he bothers spraying anything at all.) the gem between his collarbone is flickering underneath the chandelier light in your office. and you could feel the slight tense of his muscles as he adjusted his hold on you.

the words that come out of your mouth feel like needles. “do you hate me?”

“i don’t.”

“even when i said all of those horrible things to you?”

“even so.” his resolution was clear in his answer.

the burning sensation you felt was beginning to fade away. the flame inside of you finally quelling. you would have never thought in a million years that the man you’ve competed against could make you feel so strange. so conflicted. so unsure. yet at the same time, so secure.

perhaps, with him in mind, you might be able to take things a lot slower. maybe consider a vacation. you can stop comparing yourself to someone who's on a different path and appreciate what you have already. or at the very least, appreciate yourself, before anyone else.

you don’t know how to put it into words, so you press your face in the crook of his neck, releasing a content hum. his adam apple bobs with hesitation, his body tensing up as if he’s nervous to breathe in your embrace.

“thank you.”

…

“that slap really hurt. i think you might need to fetch an icepack for me.”

“i can give you another.”

“please don’t.”

#₊˚ ᗢ ruruumin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader

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thetealsky · 5 months ago

Text

Moving a little too fast || Spencer Reid X fem!Reader

This was it. The moment he'd been fixating on since he bought the ring three weeks ago. They were both sat at the round table going through a case, everyone else having cleared out an hour before. She'd insisted she was close to a breakthrough and he'd indulged.

This was it. He took one last glance at her, totally engrossed in crime scene photos, absently flicking a pen between her fingers.

He stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers, cleared his throat, and got down on one knee. This was it.

"Sweetheart I-"

"Spence?"

His head swiveled up as he held up the ring between his fingers. There was a beautiful little crinkle in her brow, her eyes flicking between him and the ring.

He'd rehursed his speech thousands of times at this point, the words burned into his iodetic memory.

"I- ever since your first day at the BAU I felt this unexplainable connection. Even when I could barely string a sentence together around you I could just feel-" Hands cupping his brought him out of his monologue.

"Spencer, baby," her smile was soft but the crinkle remained, "god forbid I interrupt being told how loved I am, but what is this really about?" One hand came up to cup his jaw.

"I- what? I'm, I'm proposing." This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His fingers pushed down on the ring. He couldn't feel the scratch of his cardigan, suddenly stiflingly hot.

"And in another circumstance I'd say your doing an amazing job but, baby, why are you proposing? We've been together less that a year." She let out a soft chuckle, thumb absently stroking his cheek.

He looked down, fiddling with the ring in his hand.

"I just - I just thought -" He just wanted to have a future with her. He just wanted to know she'd be there when he woke up.

She could see his big brain whirring behind his eyes. She slipped out of her chair and met him on the floor. Pulling his body into a relaxed hug, she gave relief to his previously bent knee and his hands were able to drop into her lap, ring trapped between his palms.

"Take your time baby." She said, kissing his temple and then simply holding him.

They stayed there a few moments, breathing slowly syncing up.

"I -" Spencers voice cracked slightly, "I thought if we got married, if we were serious, then you wouldn't leave." He couldn't look at her, head down in shame.

"Oh Spence, look at me baby." Softly tilting his chin up to eye level, "I'm not going anywhere. I would love to marry you some day, but I want that to be because we're both ready"

"I'm sorry, your right. It- It was stupid." He mumbled.

"Hey. It wasn't stupid. And it's important for me to know that you need reassurance. What if we meet in the middle. I was gonna tell you next month but my lease is nearly up. Think you could make room for me among your books?"

"Really?" There was the Spencer she knew, shoulders high, hands naturally finding her waist, hauling her closer in excitement, "I'd get to see you every morning when we wake up." He was almost vibrating now.

"Sounds perfect to me." She sat up and straightened herself, "think it's time to head home, why don't you hide that very pretty ring you got me, save it for when we're ready?"

Home. He looked up at her grinning form. He was already home.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds

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sanzaibian · 9 months ago

Text

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

#male transformation #male tf #jock tf #himbo tf #twink tf #racial tf #race change #latino tf #black tf #asian tf #straight to gay #gay to straight #inanimate tf #dumber tf #mental change #transformation #tf story #april fool's tf

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csainzsgirly · 1 month ago

Note

I would love something with Mr. Charles Leclerc. He's been away for 21 DAYS due to the triple header and his wife (the reader) has had enough. She puts on a special lingerie set she recently bought in a colour she knows Charles will love and waits (im)patiently for her lovely husband. The moment she sees him coming through the front door wearing the outfit shown in the photo I attached to this request, she can't take her hands off him. (His arms in that photo make me drool) She needs him right there, right now. So Charles gives her everything she wants including an orgasm for every single day they weren't together and the filthiest dirty talk in French. Thank you very much ☺️.

We all want to put our teeth in his biceps, don't we? warnings: 18+, google translated french (mon dieu), charles being so hot and getting deserved head, him giving it raw (be responsible irl please) and giving orgasms that are illegally good.

Your body collides with Charles with a soft oof, but he catches you effortlessly nevertheless. He laughs as he spins you around in the hallway, your face buried in the soft material of his shirt, the bare skin of your thighs wrapping around the linen pants he was wearing. He could barely make the sentence I missed you so much from your muffled voice, your lips pressing to his neck to reclaim him as yours. "I missed you more, baby," Charles replied, his other arm wrapping around you after he dropped his bag in the hall. "An eight time Grand Prix came back home to me," you purr, your ankles locking behind his back as he hadn't moved from his position in the hallway yet. "I'm so proud of you," you continue, happily accepting the kiss he pressed to your lips. Charles shifted you a little in his arms to hold onto you better, hands finding the bare skin under the silk robe you were wearing.

The robe fell open with the slightest movement, revealing the pretty set you were wearing, the see-through lace doing little to cover your tits properly. You grew hotter under his eyes, his pupils widening and the crystal colours fading into a dark swirl that caused a shiver to run up your spine. "Charles..." you hum, your fresh manicure tickling his biceps when you ran your hands over him, feeling the taut muscles before your palms warmed his chest. "Don't make me wait," you finish. "You're that needy?" he breathes, his lips brushing over yours, leaning back when you wanted to kiss him. You whine in response, your lower lip jutted out slightly. "Tu es tellement nécessiteux que tu veux que je t'emmène ici?" Charles asks, his palms kneading your ass, pulling you over his growing erection as your back hit the wall in the hallway.

"Oui," you reply with a small voice. "Need you here, now," you feel out of breath without having done anything. Your lips mold together in the most delicious kiss you could have wished for after not being able to kiss him for 21 days. Charles groans against your mouth when your hands continue to run over him, riding up his shirt, feeling his abs, your nails scratching his pecs. "Want if off," you muttered, gasping when his lips kiss down your throat to your neck next, the stubble on his jaws and cheek tickling your skin. Charles put you back on your feet, complying with your request to get his shirt off, swinging it over his head and dropping it somewhere. You slipped your arms out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor as well. "Putain, tu es tellement belle," he whistles through his teeth, his hands feeling you up, pulling you against him again. Your fingers dance across the waistband of his sweats, pulling on the string to loosen it.

You don't waist time sliding down to your knees, dragging his pants down and freeing his awfully hard erection from his shorts. Your pussy clenches around thin air at the mere sight of his cock, the shape so perfect, the girth making your mouth water, the slick leaking from your cunt ruining the fine lace of your thong. No sight was as pretty as looking up at Charles while you had his cock between your lips. The sigh that escaped him was enough to make you whine around his cock while your hand stroked him, your tongue lapping around the sensitive tip before you took more of him. He plants a hand against the wall behind you, muscles in his upper body flexing while the other hand moved into your hair in the back of your neck. Charles grunts as he keeps your hair out of your face, his hips rolling forward with each flick of your tongue and bob of your head.

Charles' abs clench as he watches you gag and struggle, your eyes glistening slightly as the corners started to water. "Prends-moi bien, bébé," he compliments through gritted teeth, watching you gasp for air as you pull back slightly. He's obsessed with seeing you like this, looking up at him with big eyes, your lips glossy from your spit, swollen from sucking him so well. Your hand glides over his cock again, you're about to take him back in your mouth as he pulls you up. "J'ai besoin de te goûter," he mutters, taking his turn to get on his knees, moving one of your legs over his shoulder. You could barely register the moment he pulled your thong aside, his hot mouth landing on your pussy without a warning, his tongue diving between your folds and licking you up. Your back arching off the wall and your fingers curling into his hair. "Charles..." you moan, the coil in your lower abdomen tightening when he sucked your clit into his mouth. His stubble scraped over your thighs, roughing up your soft skin.

His palms kneaded your ass again, pulling you more over his mouth. He licked, slurped, sucked, like you were the first thing he ate after a twelve-hour journey back home, making you whine and mewl with desperation to cum. And he wanted you to cum on his tongue. Charles' pace quickened when he noticed your short breaths, the frantic pulling on his hair. White-hot pleasure clouded your vision when your body reached a peak it had been craving since the morning he left for the triple header. He had been too busy for phone sex and your fingers simply couldn't do what he could. Your knees buckled with a difficulty to keep standing up, so he got up as well, his body pressing against yours to keep you up right. You weakly moaned against his mouth when he kissed you, tongue brushing over your lower lip before deepening the kiss, fingers dancing down your stomach and past the elastic band of your thong.

"F-fuck," you tremble when two of his fingers enter you, easily finding home between your slippery walls. "Shit, baby, you're so fucking wet," he muttered, pulling his fingers out of you to lick them clean before he gently let them enter you again. "Look at me," Charles demands, making you lift your eyes to his as he starts a pace that has you on the brink of an orgasm embarrassingly fast already. He curls them up against your g-spot, fingertips massaging the sensitive spot inside you. You're a mess when you cum on his fingers, an arm around your waist making sure you don't fall over. "Need to be inside you," his voice rasps. "Need you inside me," you emphasize, causing a small smirk to curl his lips before he turns you around, forcing your back to arch a little so he can easily pull your hips back. "Mon dieu, I missed this pussy," Charles growls, sinking into you deeply with a swift thrust of his hips.

Your eyelids flutter as he spreads you open, the sensitiveness of your previous orgasm and the burn of your stretching walls causing your lips to part with a nearly pornographic moan. You're slightly disappointed he turned you around to fuck you from behind, as your fingers were itching to dig into his shoulders, to claw at his back. Charles' first thrusts were slow, and he was taking in the feeling of your perfect cunt around him, squeezing him tight, inviting him to push in deeper, before he quickened the pace to fuck you hard and deep. You couldn't keep your sounds down anymore, skin to skin sounds filling the hallway, the wall becoming nearly uncomfortably hard as you leaned your forearms against it. "That's it, baby. You're so good to me," he praised, knowing you were close as you cried out his name when his fingers landed on your clit.

You felt on the edge of passing out, the pleasure curling your toes and swirling up your nerve system, a hand reaching back for him letting him know you needed a couple of seconds. Charles grew possibly even harder at seeing you struggle to take him, your hand landing flat on the wall in attempt to steady yourself, moving your balance from one leg to the other, his cock still inside you. He had to pull out briefly to turn you around, lift you up against him. Your arms curled around his shoulders, ankles locking behind his back again. He moved you up and down his cock, struggling to hold himself together as well, feeling on the brink of his release for a couple of minutes already, but he needed to make you cum again, needed to make up for the time he was gone. There was nothing he loved more than taking care of his girl. "Charles, baby," you whined, nails digging into his arms that were holding you tightly.

Your tits were bouncing as he fucked you harder, the straps of your bra had fallen down your arms, the lace of your thong stretched so far you were sure it was ruined forever now. You looked so gorgeous to him, so fucked out, cock drunk, overstimulated. Nothing felt better than his body tensing against yours, hot seed painting your walls and his grunts against your mouth. You ran your hands over his broad shoulders, feeling his skin that was slightly damp with sweat now. "Welcome home," you said, a little out of breath. A smile curled his lips as he let out a small chuckle. "I missed you," he repeated, kissing your lips sweetly before letting you slowly down the floor. "I'm so happy you're back," you added, kissing him once more. "You don't think I'm done with you, right?" Charles' lips trail down your jaw again. "I sure hope you're not," you hum, feeling him getting hard again.

#cl #cl x reader #charles leclerc smut

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