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jazjelspen · 8 months

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my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

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First Time // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the beginning, you were simply four friends but how was it that you all became more than this?

A/N: This has been requested so many times so I hope everyone enjoys the reader’s first time with the Marauders!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, foursome, fluff, dom/sub undertones, loss of virginity (reader’s first time), first kiss, blindfolds, intense, multiple orgasms, creampie, vaginal fingering, discussion of masturbation, wanking, anxiety, friends to lovers, praise kink, size difference, overstimulation

Words: 7.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The four of you were inseparable. Had been since the very first day on the train to Hogwarts. It was by sheer accident that you’d stumbled into their compartment, a nervous, quiet girl with no idea where to go and before you’d even opened your mouth to ask if you could sit with them, James was standing with his hand held out, “Hi my names James Potter, what's yours?”

From the outside, it looked like an odd friendship, having always remained the quiet student at the back of the class compared to the famous troublemakers that were: James, Sirius and Remus, they almost took you under their wing.

All these years later, you were never seen without one of them by your side. With your timidness, they often liked to be perceived as your protectors, and even though your fellow Gryffindors often joked about it, that sort of friendship is one you craved, needing to feel safe. It also didn’t help that they were undeniably handsome, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide your attraction to them.

This added to the fact that due to the nature of your close relationship, they tended to be more affectionate with you than anyone else that had you hiding smiles, cheeks warm to the touch and heart beating firmer in your chest. Especially recently, the Marauders tended to keep one hand on your person at all times whether it’s casually holding your hand, resting one of your thighs in class or slinging an arm over your shoulder, it almost felt natural to be close to them at all times.

On this particular day, a group of Gryffindors were in the Hog's head, squished into a booth, drinking butter beer and laughing at Frank's attempt of convincing the bartender to serve him some fire whiskey. Taking another sip of the sugary goodness that was butter beer, the hand resting against your thigh squeezed slightly, making you look in the direction of the owner but Sirius was still shouting something to Frank at the bar.

The touch was always intimate, almost as intimate as the army casually thrown across your back, pulling you into the warmth of James as he chuckled into his own drink. You felt safe and happy squished between them both, glancing almost on instinct to the third who happened to be smiling at you from across the table. Remus’s gaze had your eyes dropping to a stare at a spot on the table to stop from grinning.

“It’s getting late and I think it’s still snowing, should we head back to the castle?” Marlene asked the group, the majority of which agreed, finishing their drinks and beginning to pile on the layers of clothing to face the winter weather.

When neither of the Marauders moved, you glanced up at James who was looking steadily at Remus for a moment before addressing his friends. “I’m not quite sure we’re ready to head back just yet, we’ll catch you later”.

“Don’t leave it too long guys with this weather, you know what she’s like on the icey path”, Marlene jokingly teased as she nodded in your direction. Your only response was a deadpan look in her direction, you weren’t that much of a liability, having only fallen over once and even then, Remus had caught you before colliding with the floor.

“Oh you know us, we wouldn’t let anything happen to her”, Sirius responded with his own smile, once again squeezing your thigh, his thumb stroking idle circles into the skin. Lifting the glass to your mouth to hide your giddy smile, you caught Lily’s eye as she reflected the smile you were hiding. Lily had known about your feelings for the boys, in fact, you were sure everyone knew but Lily was the only one you trusted to run to where you could discuss it in detail.

The group eventually left the four of you, and James was quick to buy another round of drinks for you all. Sirius's body shifted closer to yours, his lips hovering next to your ear as he asked, “So what would you like to do? Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?” It was an innocent question but the way his eyes dropped to your lips, your heart fluttered faster behind your ribcage.

“I’ll do anything you guys want to do”.

“Oh, are you sure about that?” Sirius teased, his hand slide an inch higher on your thighs.

Knocking your shoulder against his, you playfully responded, “Stop teasing me, Sirius”.

James returned with the drinks, his arm returning to your shoulders as they began to contemplate possible places to visit. The shops had closed now so there were only a few places left such as a different pub but it was Remus who suggested; “why don’t we take her to our special space?”

Looking between the three Marauders, eyebrows knitting together, you had no idea where they were referring to, even more, confused as both James and Sirius agreed that was a good place to visit.

“How mysterious”, you quipped, drinking more of the butter beer, enjoying the slight buzz it was giving you, leaning further into James’ warmth, feeling completely relaxed. James smiled down at you, not that you could see from where you were smiling at Remus across the table as he tapped his foot against yours under the table.

There was only an hour left of daylight when the four of you finished your beverages and began to wrap up in hats, gloves and scarves, Sirius even helping you to zip up your coat before gripping your hips and steering you towards the exit. The hold was possessive but you didn’t mind.

It was ice cold outside, your cheeks burning from the bitter wind but luckily Remus was right there, offering his arm for you to huddle into. The tallest Marauder always ran oddly warm but you knew it was due to his furry little problem, of which he had confessed to you many years ago.

You weren’t paying much attention as to where they were taking you until the barbed wire fence was in your eyesight and you stopped in the middle of the path.

“I’m not going in there are you mad?”, your eyes were wide as you looked at the shrieking shack, the decrepit building swaying with the bitter winds.

“You aren’t scared are you?” Sirius mocked, stepping closer which caused you to lean further into Remus’ body. James joined in as well until they were all crowding around your frame, all three of them were much taller than you, which only meant that was something else that they could tease you for.

“Don’t be scared, we’ll protect you.”

“The ghouls and ghosts won’t get you with your handsome knights to protect you.”

Remus lightly shoved James and Sirius away at their joking which only made them laugh but you weren’t concentrating on that as you had realised that as you’d been leaning into Remus’ body, your hand had reached behind and was squeezing his thigh in fear.

Your body warmed with embarrassment, quickly letting go whilst ignoring just how muscular it felt and apologising to the scarred Marauder but he only smiled down endearingly at you, taking your smaller hand in his.

“It’s not haunted, don’t listen to these idiots. This is where I come for my monthly visits”. This made you feel a little more relieved but it was still slightly terrifying as you all approached the building, making sure no one was around to see you all casually walking into the most haunted building in the UK.

The inside wasn’t as ghastly compared to the exterior, it was still rickety but clearly, from the boys’ regular visits, it was decorated nicely, even having a room with a lovely four-post bed, decorated with red silk sheets and three high back chairs surrounding a fire that Sirius swiftly lit with his wand.

“It’s cute!” you admit, looking at the bed before standing in front of the fire, beginning to take off your outside wear as the room began to heat.

As the sun began to set outside, the four of you relaxed in the room, Sirius sitting on the floor in front of the fire with the remaining three including you in the chairs. “Shall we check the map? I’d put 5 galleons on Alice and Frank being in a classroom somewhere”, James predicted, reaching into his back pocket and revealing the Marauders map, waving his wand and muttering the line and watching mesmerised as the map came to life.

This was one of the best things the group had created, spending hours and hours spying on students without leaving the comfort of your chair and it had revealed many people’s relationships.

“Ah, there I knew it!” James announced, pointing on the map to where Alice and Frank's name labels were hovering suspiciously close in an empty classroom. “Of course, it’s in that specific classroom as well, I’m pretty sure everyone in our years snogged in that room.”

A giggle spilt from your mouth, “not everyone James”, you admitted casually, looking at the other names on the map to see if there was any more gossip to reveal, not knowing the dumbstruck expression from the men surrounding you.

“What? I thought you had a little thing with Cresswell?” Remus asked perplexed.

“What, no! I’ve never even kissed anyone else, let alone be alone with him, ew-”

“What did you say?” Sirius asked, cutting you off on your disgusted tangent. You now realised just how much you had let slip. It wasn’t like you had been going out of your way not to be kissed, in fact, you rather liked the thought of being intimate with someone else but the opportunity had never come your way.

“I mean, yeah I’ve never kissed anyone before but it’s fine, I don’t mind”, it was a small white lie but you just wanted the conversation to move on.

“But… how?!” James asked, moving slightly closer to you.

“Well, how can anyone get close enough to me to kiss me when you’re always around? I mean do you remember when Lockhart tried to ask me to Slughorn’s Christmas ball? You just about traumatised the poor guy”.

James smirked at the memory, “If I do recall correctly, you didn’t want to go with him anyway”.

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make, I’ve just not had the opportunity and anyway, it’s fine! Can we please stop talking about it, this is embarrassing”.

The Marauders wanted to do anything but move on from this conversation, Remus decided to speak next, his voice low as he asked: “Would you like to kiss someone?”

Your eyes widened slightly, immediately looking into his, mouth feeling suddenly dry, your body feeling too warm as Sirius continued the questioning front the floor, “I mean if you’re going to kiss someone, it might as well be with someone you trust… right?”

Your automatic response was to laugh, not being able to hide the anxiety laced in your voice, moving subtly to sit on your hands to hide the gentle tremble. “Well, now there’s loads of pressure! What if I’m a bad kisser and then you never talk to me again? And who am I supposed to pick? And-”

“Honey, stop freaking out, it’s not supposed to give you anxiety, it’s a nice thing”, James tried to reason with you, his hand reaching across from where he sat to gently brush down your arm before his eyes lit up with an idea. “How about - if you still want to -, we make this easier for you?”

James took out his wand from his pocket, pointing it at one of his gloves that lay over the arm of his chair, and in a split second, the material had changed into a long cloth. Picking it up, he held it out to you, “What if you can’t see who kisses you, then you don’t have to worry about the anxiety of picking and if you don’t like it we can stop and act as if nothing has happened and you won’t even be able to tell who you’d kissed?”

You stared at the cloth in his hand, realising it was meant to be used for a blindfold. There was nothing that you wanted more than to say yes and before even contemplating the realities of the situation, you were agreeing to his proposition.

One moment you were sitting in your chair, and the next you were in the centre of the room, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your sight completely masked by the cloth now tied around your head.

“Relax darling”, Sirius spoke next to your ear. His request was easier said than done as you could hear the three of them walking around you in a circle, so you couldn’t tell who was about to kiss you, losing track the further they walked as to where it sounded like Sirius had even been stood.

Your hands were shaking even more at your sides, mentally you tried to remember to breathe. But this was such a weird situation to be in, your limbs didn’t even feel like they were a part of your body now, where were you supposed to do with your arms? And your lips, should you purse your lips in preparation? Should you have brushed your teeth?

A single finger slides under your chin, stopping any thought from spiralling through your mind. With ease, your head was tipped back, almost impossibly far from how your neck ached, forgetting just how much taller the boys were than you. The sweet butterbeer breath then fanned across the skin of your face and also gave nothing away as you all had been drinking it.

Then a pair of lips were touching yours. Delicately. Tentatively. Almost as if they were scared that you were going to break, so soft that your initial reaction wasn’t too tense like you’d expect it to be, but instead your shoulders dropped slightly with ease. Whoever it was were more than careful and you were truly unable to identify just who it was.

And then they were gone, leaving your head tilted back, mind ablaze with wanting and needing them to come back.

Having heard your thoughts, a warm hand glided across your jaw, holding the position of your head as lips were suddenly pressing against yours once more with a much more intense pressure. The lips were full, slightly moist from where the Marauder had licked them before leaning in. Your nose pressed into his cheek which meant that you could move past the smell of the butter beer and his natural scent filled your sense giving you the identification of whom you were kissing.

Not that you needed to as Sirius’ long hair brushed across your face. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest that you were sure that he could hear it but it didn’t stop him from holding you close.

It felt almost normal, natural even as your best friend pushed his lips harder against yours for a second before pulling back. You were confused by the loss of his lips but he was only tilting his head and then he was kissing you again with more passion. On instinct, you sighed into the touch, your body feeling like it was melting into the floor as Sirius moved his lips steadily against yours, giving you time to accustomed to the movements of kissing before he was backing off.

In the far reaches of your mind, you were having an absolute meltdown, screaming into your consciousness that you were actually kissing your best friends. The Marauders, your childhood friends were actually kissing you.

Another person was stepping into your personal bubble, hand once again on your jaw, cradling your head and another hand slid to your hip, pulling your body flush against a much firmer one. Then you were being kissed again, head tilted at the same angle that Sirius had held you in but with a little bit of practice, you leaned further into the embrace, hand lifting to rest against James’ chest, knowing it was him from the lingering musky cologne that was on his skin and only he had these specific toned hard body from his Quidditch practice.

A small moan escaped you, lost completely in the time and it was like sweet music to James as he smiled against your mouth but just like Sirius, just as you were starting to get into it, he stepped back leaving you feeling cold and lonely.

Instinctinyl your body tried to follow after him but he was already out of your grasp, their footsteps could still be heard, even if you couldn’t see a single thing through the blindfold. It was highly disorientating, almost felt dizzy but that was also mostly from the breathless kisses. As the three men continued to talk in circles around you, your tongue darted out and moistened your lips and you had to hold back a groan at being able to taste something that wasn’t you, realising it was a mixture of Sirius and James' mouths.

As you took a deep breath to try and gather more courage a body was once more in front of yours, tilting your chin further and further until Remus could lean in and capture your lips.

Remus absolutely devoured your mouth. Holding you close so he could press you closer, his tongue teasing against your lips, begging for you to respond to him which you did, opening and letting his tongue dance with yours. Raising onto your tip toes to try and reach more of him, needing more, already as addicted to his taste as you were to the other two, needing his warmth.

You could have cried with happiness as he didn’t step back immediately as his lips left yours. Instead, they made their own path down your neck, tasting your skin, finding the areas that had your knees wobbling and breath catching in your throat.

But of course, this would not last as he was gone again but thankfully the wait wasn’t long as a different set of lips were replacing Remus’, this time exploring your jaw, spending time to tease beneath your ear where you hadn’t realised you were so sensitive until a shiver passed through you.

Your hands found their way into the shirt of the man now gently nibbling your ear, the press of his glasses against your cheek, you knew it was James who had returned. With nothing covering your mouth, there was nothing to hold back the mewls and whimpers, especially as James moved lower, teeth grazing over your pulse mouth. His wicked mouth was sending you into a needy puddle.

“Please…”. You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for but Sirius answered by sliding his body behind yours, his hands resting comfortably against your hips, dipping his head to the opposite side of your neck to James.

“What do you want sweetheart?”

“I don’t know…”, you internally cursed yourself with just how desperate you sounded. It wasn’t that there was anything specifically that you were wanting, just knowing you needed everything.

Having already kissed all three of them, which was a big deal in itself, but the dampening between your legs was desperately screaming to be touched, and you wanted to touch them, even if you weren’t sure what to do.

“I can see you thinking too much, just breath Baby, relax into our touch, let us make you feel good.”

Your mind seemed to disappear of all thoughts, the only sensation was the burning of your skin with every nibble and lick that they doing to your body. However, your anxiety was always there just to bubble to the surface, your body tensing slightly as you stuttered.

“But…But I-”.

James stopped kissing your neck, all three of them pausing feeling the tension as you began to panic. Sirius ran a warm hand up your clothed back in soothing circled as you struggled to think of the words you were desperate to say.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do love. We can stop if it’s getting too much for you”, Sirius continued to try and soothe you.

“I don’t want to stop”, you finally were able to choke out, something that you truly meant. “I just-”, biting your lip contemplating the words, slightly embarrassed but a rough fingertip eased your lip from between your teeth.

“Talk to us,” it was Remus now speaking from somewhere to your right, but you couldn’t feel him other than the finger and thumb on your chin.

“I don’t know what I’m doing”, you admitted finally.

To be honest, you’d expected them to laugh however when they didn’t, your body seemed to relax, especially realising that they were all now stroking a part of your body to try and help to calm you down.

“We don’t expect you to know what you are doing love. We want you to experience these things, to make you feel good. Just let us take care of you. Do you want the blindfold off?” Remus asked.

You shook your head with a response of now. Even though you could tell who was kissing you now, the thought of actually looking them in the eye was too real. They were your best friends, and they were making you feel good so in your blissful ignorance of having a blindfold on, you didn’t have to look them in the eye at least.

“Do you want to continue?” James asked from in front, his lips grazing your temple in a comforting way.

“Yes”.

“Will you tell us to stop if you become too uncomfortable?”

“Yes”.

No one moved for a moment, almost having a silent conversation between the three of them before James was tilting your head back from where it was leaning on Sirius’ chest. You’d expected him to kiss you but his lips moved lower, lips pursed blowing cool air against your burning skin. His hand which was slightly rough from the calloused from training on his broom, inched down your neck, following the sensual air that he was blowing until he teased the material of your shirt.

Your chest was rising and falling dramatically, desperately sucking in air as you didn’t stop his fingers as he began to unbutton your shirt, slowly, one at a time, making sure to stroke the exposed skin until reaching the top of your breasts did he stop.

However, he only stopped so that he could push the material away from your shoulder, moving to kiss the skin there, the sensations once again new. However, Remus didn’t give you time to gasp as he tilted your face in the direction that he was facing, kissing you breathlessly and hungrily.

Sirius still stood behind you, pulling your body into his enough that if you weren’t being distracted by the other two, you’d noticed the throbbing lump in his trousers. Instinctively you were leaning into him more, savouring his warmth. Sirius’ hands began to curve around your waist, teasing along the hem of your shirt, dipping beneath to brush against your bare skin. Your hips rolled as his fingers ticked slightly but you already knew you’d be craving to feel his fingers on your skin in the future, loving the sensation of someone actually touching you in an area that had been unexplored before.

The long-haired Marauder began to unbutton your shirt from the bottom, slowly grazing over your navel until there was only one single button holding your shirt together in between your breasts.

Remus pulled back to peek down at your body, sucking in a breath as his eyes darkened, watching Sirius unbutton the last one with a simple flick of his fingers, exposing your front. Your shirt floated open to reveal the laced bra covering your breasts, but your perked nipples were still visible through the thin material.

“So fucking pretty”, James complimented as he pushed the offending material off your shoulders and onto the floor and stared down at your chest like the other two men. You were already flushing at the compliment and would have probably combusted if you could see the hungry gaze of the Marauders looking at your body.

James couldn’t wait anymore as his large hand cupped your breast and his tongue licked your nipple through the lace. “Ah!” your back arched into the touch, fingers desperately gripping into his messy hair, holding him there. Even though his tongue was warm and soft, the sensation it caused was like hot fire straight to your core, like a bolt that had your thighs rubbing together to try and ease some of the tension that was catapulting through you.

It felt so good that you were begging for more with a desperate plea as James moved to the other breast. Sirius was going absolutely feral for your moans, having wanted to hear them for so long but he needed to keep his calm, instead moving to inch his hand up your naked spine, finding the clasp of your bra and with a single kiss to the back of your head, undid the bra.

The thin straps fell from your shoulders and you had to momentarily release the grip on James’ hair to allow the material to fall completely from your body and onto the floor. Without even a second to process the venerable state that you were in, being topless around another person for the first time, James and Remus moved with sync and began to worship your breasts.

Each nipple was sucked into the warm mouth, teeth teasing the tip before being comforted by a stroke of a tongue, hands squeezing the rest of the flesh of your breasts, absolutely taking your breath away. Each movement had your body rock and underwear continuing to dampen.

Your head flew back against Sirius’ chest, glad that he was there to support you, feeling unsteady.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful” Sirius’ voice was rasping as he whispered into your ear. With gentle hands, he tilted your head back so that he could kiss you passionately, almost dizzy with lust, forgetting to breathe as his tongue stroked yours. Sensing your unsteadiness, Sirius pulled back, much to your distaste as you groaned in want. “Remember to breath”, he reminded you.

Remus pulled off your nipple with an audible ‘pop’, looking up into your face to make sure that you did as instructed, smiling as you gasped for a couple of breaths. Once again your knees felt unsteady with holding up your body as James gave a significant suck to your nipple.

“Let’s move onto a more sturdy surface”, Remus suggested but you were hardly even listening with the euphoria you were experiencing, feeling completely alive and blazing. However as you were moved by the three men, it was even more disorientating, not knowing where you even were in the room anymore until you were being eased down onto the soft, silky bed.

Shifting until you could feel the divots of the pillow in the centre of the bed, it dawned on you just how exposed and intimate it was with the position that you were in. Especially as you weren’t joined immediately, knowing they were looking at you lying and waiting on the bed for them.

Eventually, one of them climbed onto the bed and you could feel it dip by your feet as whoever it was inched between your legs, crawling your body until they were able to kiss up your sternum. Moaning as whoever was touching your body, grazed the edge of your trousers, teasing for them to be undone.

Then the bed was shifting again as someone else climbed onto it, picking up one of your hands, kissing your palm, and making his way up your forearm. The lips tickled the skin as they made their own journey towards your mouth before you were devoured by Sirius, his taste exploding against your tongue as he released his own groan that caused your hips to roll against Remus, hinting for him to carry on with his plan.

Slowly, your trouser button and zipper were undone to allow him to begin pulling them down your legs. Remus was quick to kiss the newly exposed skin down your legs, whispering “beautiful” between pecks.

“You’ll tell us to stop if it’s too much…?” James asked from across the bed, he’d been watching his friends devour you, trying to memorise the sight before him, knowing they were approaching a place that they could not return from.

“Don’t stop,” you say breathlessly as Sirius had moved away for you to answer the question. Remus grinned against your leg, hooking his fingers into your underwear, dragging the material down your naked legs and at the same time, James began leaning down to kiss your breasts again, making sure to keep your arousal high as he ran the rips of his fingers over the curves of your hips, hitting a particulary sensitive spot on the inside.

Sirius wanted to kiss you again, seeing you completely naked on the bed but he also wanted to see your reaction to being touched for the first time so he waited, even though you were half covered by the blindfold, he watched your mouth as Remus made the first move between your legs.

With his scarred hand he began by brushing a hand over your mound, tickling the skin, as he used his other hand to open your legs up further, giving him a better view as his thumb finally stroked your clit.

“Oh Merlin”, you cried out, back arching which only pushed your breast further into James’ mouth. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, someone was actually touching your pussy.

Remus didn’t want to completely overwhelm you so made sure to keep his mouth nibbling along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, watching how your body reacted to all of the delicate touches. His thumb rolled your clit slowly in circles, matching the way you were rolling your hips.

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Remus asked with a sly smirk plastered across your face, no that you could see it. Sirius was still watching you just as intensely as Remus as he gripped your jaw tenderly, holding you there.

“Yes”.

James smiled around your puffy nipple, groaning at the thought.

“How do you touch yourself?” Remus continued his questioning.

Thankful for the blindfold, even though you were slightly embarrassed at least you weren’t having to look at them as you answered. “I…I touch myself where you’re touching”, referring to your bundle of nerves.

Remus pressed a fraction harder, drawing a moan from you. “What, here?”

“Yes”.

“Where else?”

“I … sometimes put a finger inside of me”, actually saying these words to him, your best friend was thrilling, especially as with each answer you gave, one of the three men would moan deeply.

“Just one finger?”

“Two”, you answered honestly.

“Good girl”, Sirius says to your honesty, his thumb brushing your jaw in a calming way. The praise he uttered was almost like a lightbulb moment which Remus noticed instantly as your hole suddenly clenched in arousal.

“What else do you do?” Remus continued to ask, wanting to know every single detail of your masturbation.

You were so lost in your arousal that you began talking without thinking, breathing heavily now with your mouth gaping open. “I… hump my pillow and think about this”.

This confession seemed to stop them in confusion, groaning as Remus had stopped his motions.

“What do you mean by ‘this’, love?”, James asked from your chest. You wanted to escape and tried to hide your face in the bed but Sirius’ grip held strong and then he tutted, understanding just what you meant.

“By this… did you mean us? Do you think about us when you’re touching yourself?”

“Yes”, you admitted, past the point of caring now.

“Fuck”, one of them cursed.

“Want to know something?” Sirius continued, “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve pumped my cock with you in mind. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long.”

Remus didn’t give you time to respond as he teased your entrance with his finger, his thumb continuing to tease your favourite spot. Your hips were still rolling desperate to feel more and he took that as his sign to finally breach your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so wet”, Remus groaned as he pushed his finger inside of your cunt. It was a sensation you weren’t entirely sure how to explain, it was so different to your smaller fingers but all you knew was that you wanted more as he began to slowly pull out to push back in.

Sirius and James stopped to watch how you reacted, finding it the most beautiful sight as you breathed greedily, hands clenching the sheets harshly, thighs shaking from having to keep them open, wanting nothing more than to slam them shut and ride his hand much like you’d imagined with your pillow all of those times.

As Remus added another finger to your eagerly awaiting cunt, James and Sirius swapped positions. Sirius teased and played with your breasts and kissed along your sternum as James moved between leaving open-mouth kisses along your throat, to absorbing your moans with his own mouth.

Remus was careful not to hurt you, knowing this was the first time you’d had anything the size of his fingers in there, making sure that you were wet enough and relaxed before curling his fingers and pressing more firmly in swipes across your bundle of nerves.

It was an instant reaction, to reach for that pleasure as you released the grip on the bed to try and grab Remus but instead held onto James and Sirius's heads, using them as momentum to ride the fingers inside of you.

The sensation swarmed you quickly, the coil in your abdomen almost overwhelmingly tight as you called out into Sirius’ mouth, the orgasm taking your breath away completely, legs dropping down onto the bed.

All the whilst, Remus was praising you, “That’s a good girl, you’re doing so well”. It was unlike anything you’d been able to give to yourself and it took a moment to catch your breath as the three of them waited patiently. Your entire body felt relaxed in the after-orgasmic glow.

“What do you want to do sweetheart? Do you want to stop?” Sirius asked as he tenderly kissed your cheek, something you leaned into.

“No, I want to keep going but… I don’t think-, I mean, all three of you, I don’t-”.

“Shh”, Sirius cut off your words with a swipe of his thumb against your lips. “Not all three of us, not with your first time darling. We have all the time in the world for more”. Your heart pounded at the possibility that this wasn’t a one-time thing but then another mouth next to your other ear had you drifting back to the moment as he kissed along the shell of your ear.

“It’ll just be me today my love, how does that sound? I’ll look after you…”

You nodded your head, wanting him desperately, not that it mattered which of the three it was, this was actually happening, your arousal spiking once more as you turned your head towards James to try and kiss him which he gladly reciprocated.

But all too quickly he was leaning away from you, leaving that side of your body cold and empty. “You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to, won’t you?” James asked from somewhere further than on the bed as he began to strip off his clothes, not that you could see.

“Yes”, you verbally say rather than nodding your head, hand reaching out to touch one of them, smiling when Sirius’ lips nipped the tips of your fingers, nuzzling into your palm as you rested it against his cheek.

Remus also moved on the bed, climbing over your body to move his lips against yours, distracting you completely from the situation but then as James’ hands began trailing over your legs, parting them and giving him room did it dawn on you again that you were actually about to lose your virginity.

Remus and Sirius seemed to move away now leaving you and James in the middle of the bed. “Do you want to keep this on?” James asked, poking the material tied around your head.

Contemplating for a moment - even though all of this foreplay had been fun with the blindfold and it had helped with your anxiety, your virginity could only be taken once and you wanted to fully be in the moment so steadily, you removed the cloth from covering your eyes.

It took a moment of squinting your eyes to adjust properly to the light in the room that mostly came from the fire at the other end of the room. What you’d anticipated were regret and fear but as James gazed down at you with his soft brown, wide eyes, and glasses fixed on his face all you felt was safe in his arms.

Even as you caught sight of Remus and Sirius to the sides, their hands moving up and down their shafts as they chased their own highs watching the two of you, it didn’t feel embarrassing, it felt right. There was no one you trusted more in the world than these three and even in this vulnerable state, you wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

“Hi,” you said timidly up at him, a smile spreading across his handsome face in response. James lowered his body over yours, almost cocooning and moulding the two of you together and his natural body heat helped to keep you relaxed as his nose bumped yours.

“It’s just us, love”, he whispered against your lips before kissing you, tongue dancing with your own making you moan at the taste of him. Your legs moved on their own accord, wrapping around his hips, ankles locking together, almost pulling him closer until you felt his noticeable length graze your thigh.

Trying not to lose your cool, your hands landed on his shoulders, feeling the toned muscles beneath before cupping his jaw as he pulled back. James watched your face closely, wanting to see every emotion that you had as his hand disappeared between your bodies to align his cock with your cunt.

Similarly to Remus, James was very aware that this was your first time and was very aware that this could potentially hurt so he moved slowly, his tip gradually breaching your hole.

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open as you looked down to where your bodies were now joined. It was intense the further he moved, it wasn’t horrifically painful but still stung as you stretched to a size you’d definitely never had before. James stopped at one point, not fully penetrating in but just giving your body to adjust as he finally dipped his head to kiss your swollen lips, distracting you from the discomfort.

The Marauder waited for you to nod your head to continue moving and after a few more small thrusts, your cunt had accustomed to his size, even beginning to move your hips with his. His cock felt so incredibly deep inside of you, each fuck in and out was hitting every single spot that you craved to be touched.

James groaned at how tight you felt, almost suffocating his cock, it was unbelievably good, seeing how you looked underneath him, your eyes glazed, mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You were so lost in the emotions and pleasure that you couldn’t even speak and warn that you were about to cum but James could tell by the tightening of your cunt. “Cum for me sweetheart, fuck you feel so good”, James encouraged.

He held intense eye contact, mouths brushing each other but not fully kissing, just remaining close so you came hard once more, thighs squeezing his hips harshly.

“Wait, ahh-” you cry out, needing James to pause with how sensitive you were feeling and James had to hide his face into your neck from not cumming with how tightly your cunt was convulsing around his cock. It took a few minutes of deep breathing and James’ hands massaging over your body to calm enough before rolling your hips, signalling for James to continue.

As he began to thrust back into you, the messy-haired man sat back on his knees, pushing both of your legs up to your chest which was when Sirius and Remus moved back over to the bed and you were thankful for this, almost like they could read your mind as you were about to moan for them.

In this position, it gave Sirius the perfect opportunity to circle your clit with his fingers in time with James' thrusts. You were crying out again, throat beginning to feel raw with how much you’d been moaning but you also never wanted it to end, it just felt so good.

Remus casually sat next to you, his hand continuing to pump his impressively sized cock, and he smirked as he caught you looking at it with wide eyes, not understanding how that would ever fit in you.

You wanted desperately to kiss Remus but he simply held your jaw so that you had to watch him touching himself as he watched you getting fucked by his best friend.

James' moans increased in sound as his cock throbbed inside of you, desperately close to reaching his own climax.

“Is he making you feel good?” Remus asked, looking down your body at where Sirius was touching you.

“Yes, he feels so good, I think I’m going to cum again”, you admitted between moans, Sirius’ fingers moving with more pressure as he heard how close you were.

“Good, I want you to cum before Prongs does”, Remus’s dominant tone had you heating with even more arousal if that was even possible. His intense stare, the hold on your jaw, the guarantee of feeling safe, there was no way you weren’t going to cum that very moment.

Chanting ‘yes’ with each thrust, you came, eyes having to close to try and remain in control and this was all James needed to release his cum deep within your cunt, groaning needing at how fucking good you felt. You felt almost close to tears with the stimulation you’d experienced, your body reeling from the multiple orgasms but also aching from being licked, stroked and fucked, it was a little overwhelming now.

James eased his cock out of your hole causing you to wince slightly as the euphoric feelings began to fade away, you still felt good but needed a good rest. The brown-eyed boy smiled apologetically down at you, gently kissing your cheek before climbing off of the bed to retrieve his wand from his discarded trouser pockets.

Just as you were able to ask for a tissue to clean up in between your legs, James waved his wand and the mess that was a mixture of yours and his juices disappeared.

“Thank you”, your voice was quiet, thick with exhaustion as you dropped your head onto the bed. Sirius was soon crawling next to you, his body quickly wrapping around yours, causing you to turn on to your side, his face nuzzling into your neck.

What was going to happen now? Would they even want to still be your friend? Would you all wake up tomorrow and regret what had happened? You knew for sure that you didn’t regret anything only worried for the repercussions.

A flick to the tip of your nose had you glancing up at Remus as he too lay on the bed now, facing you and it then only registered that he and Sirius had cum whilst watching you being fucked by James but you’d been so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t noticed.

“Stop thinking so hard”, Remus whispered, stroking your cheek tenderly. “We’ll talk about this all tomorrow but you haven’t lost us, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up”. You took a deep breath, the tension melting away as you smiled at him before closing your eyes.

Tomorrow was a new day, a new start to whatever was going on between the four of you but one thing was certain, you’d need to speak to Lily about making some birth control potion soon.

#poly!marauders #marauders smut #marauders one shot #the marauders #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter #sirius black smut #sirius black one shot #sirius black #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #hp smut #hp one shot #hp #mine*

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awearywritersworld · 8 months

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the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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aesethewitch · 5 months

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Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

#aese speaks #spirit work #ghosts #talking to ghosts #hauntings #paranormal #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #this post is Super Basic #it was going to have More Details but like. it was getting TOO long yknow #so. this is uhhhh part one #ghost post series

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starryevermore · 4 months

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the house of snow (22) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: you and coriolanus adjust.

word count: 1,733

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: fluff, mention of morning sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

The benefit of being pregnant was that Coryo and Coriolanus have seemed to become the best of friends. The drawback was that they became united in their overprotective tendencies. Coryo would insist that you stay in bed longer, and Coriolanus would sit on your chest to make sure you didn’t try to sneak away. Or Coryo would deny invitations to balls because of your morning sickness, and Coriolanus would attack the skirts of your gown to make sure it was in no occasion to be worn when you tried to convince your husband that you were well enough to be in attendance. It would have been infuriating if it wasn’t also so damned sweet. At least Coryo didn’t become the sort of husband who would keep you from your work. Probably because you were seated beside him and he could ensure that you weren’t doing anything that could potentially harmed yourself or the baby.

You leaned your head against Coryo’s arms as he shuffled around some papers on the desk. He looked down at you, his brows pinching together.

“Do you need to rest?” he asked. “Should I get the physician?”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his bicep. “Worry wart.”

“Forgive me if I’m concerned when my wife is entering the most dangerous part of her life—carrying another’s life,” Coryo said. He reached up, his cold hand resting on your warm face. His thumb stroked over the swell of your cheek. “I’m not going to take any chances when it comes to your health.”

There it was again. You knew of Coryo’s anxieties about your eventual pregnancy, but with everything happening so quickly, it was easy to be frustrated with his behaviors. With the exception of his adoration for you, Coryo kept his feelings so close to his chest. Even when it was obvious why he was being so overprotective, you sometimes forgot that part of him was still the broken boy who lost his mother. You took a breath, trying to steady your own overwhelming emotions.

“And I will tell you if I’m over-exerting myself. I may have never been with child before, but I know myself well enough to know when I’m pushing too far.”

A sigh escaped Coryo’s lips. “I just worry. I cannot lose you. In fact, I demand that I be the one to go first.”

You giggled. “I don’t think you get to demand things like that.”

“I am King. The only person who can tell me no is you, so, please, let me be the one to go first.”

You kissed his bicep again. “Very well. But you better live a long, long life with me before you go.”

“I wouldn’t dare sacrifice a single minute of a long life with you.”

“Would you sacrifice a minute to walk in the gardens with me?”

Coryo smiled and nodded. He stood first then held a hand out to you so he could aid you. Once you were standing, your hand slid to the crook of his arm and Coryo led you out of the office. He gave a curt nod to the Peacekeeper who was stationed outside the door and the two of you continued out of the palace and to the gardens.

The moment the sun hit your face, you couldn’t hold back your smile any longer. You had been holed up in the palace for the better part of the week, both because of Coryo and because of the morning sickness. It was nice to finally been the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair. Maybe pregnancy would be easier if you spend the entirety of it outdoors. You looked up at your husband. Even the weight on his shoulders seemed to be lifted once he was out of the palace.

You took a seat on a bench, and Coryo sat beside you. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s nice to be out here,” you said.

“It is. We should come out more often,” Coryo agreed. He caressed your face, a soft smile curving across his face. You leaned in, stole a kiss. “I am sorry if I have been overbearing.”

“It’s sweet. I am sure most husbands would only be concerned if the child I had was a boy,” you said.

“Boy, girl, I don’t care. As long as you and our child is healthy, I will be happy.”

Leaning your head against Coryo’s shoulder, you said, “I probably will take a step back from our public engagements, though. It was exhausting just coming down here, and we haven’t even left the estate.”

Coryo barked out a laugh. “Well, if I knew it would be that easy to get my way, I would’ve taken you to the gardens sooner.”

“Oh hush!” But still, you giggled. “One a month, I think, will suffice. Fewer than that when I am further along, of course, and if the physician advises otherwise.”

“Ah, so I could have also been bribing the physician?” Coryo teases.

You gave his chest a light smack. “Stop it, I’m being serious here.”

“I know, and I greatly appreciate that.”

“Now, what do you say we shirk our duties and spend the rest of the day in bed?”

Coryo grinned. “I thought you would never ask.”

You sat in the library, legs curled up under you, a book on your lap. Coriolanus sat at your feet, blinking curiously at you. You hadn’t intended for Coriolanus to have joined you, but despite you and Coryo coming to an agreement about your health, Coriolanus seemed to be certain that one wrong move would mean your end.

“Well, this is a very non-traditional royal portrait,” Coryo said, stepping into the library and up to the painter. He watched as the artist. took delicate care in painting you.

“This isn’t for my royal portrait,” you dismissed as you turned a page in your book. “We had that done weeks ago. Some finishing touches still need to be done before it can be unveiled, of course. But this is a personal portrait I’ve commissioned.”

Coryo looked over at you. His brow raised. You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure you out. “Is that so? What do you need a personal portrait for?”

“Well, there will soon come a time when I am too tired and too pregnant to be in the office with you. I thought a portrait hung over the desk would serve as a good reminder of who you must consider in ever decision you make.”

The painter’s brush stilled. You watched as he slowly looked back at the King, undoubtedly waiting for a typical man’s rage—to yell at you for being so audacious, to destroy the painting, and to ensure that the painter never would be able to make art again. But your Coryo only laughed.

“As if I could ever forget you, petal. I was planning to bring our work into the bedroom—”

“There is nothing less attractive you could say than that.”

The color continued to drain from the painter’s face. Poor fellow. Perhaps you should tell him to take a break while you speak with your husband.

“Perhaps you are right.”

“No, I am. If you bring work into our bed, you will be swiftly removed to the Queen’s Chambers.”

Coryo smiled still. “Very well. Then I should thank you for being so courteous to not wholly deprive me of your presence.”

You flipped another page in the book. “I’m think of having another painting commissioned in a few months.”

The painter looked to you, his demeanor finally relaxing. “It would be an honor to paint you again, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Have you done any maternity portraits?” you asked. “I know it is as non-traditional as this portrait, of course, but I thought it would be another nice present for my husband.”

The painter glanced back at the King standing over his shoulder. “I am certain His Majesty will be pleased with anything you present him. Your Majesty.”

“Something in the gardens, I think. Coryo has these beautiful rose bushes. We should incorporate them somehow.”

“I love when you pretend I’m not here, petal,” Coryo said. He patted the painter’s shoulder. “If you continue to capture my wife’s beauty as well as you have been, you will be the official royal portraitists.”

You watched as the painter flushed. “It would be a tremendous honor to be bestowed such a title,” he said.

Coryo nodded at the painter then stepped around the easel. He walked over to you, bent down, and kissed you softly. “How much longer will this take?”

“Only an hour or so until we lose the sunlight,” you said. “Why? Are you becoming anxious without me by your side?”

Coryo smiled, his pretty blue eyes twinkling. “You know I always want you by my side.” He kissed you again. “I shall return in an hour then.”

“I eagerly await your return.”

He turned to Coriolanus and pointed a finger at the furry baby. “And I expect you to alert me if this ends even a second sooner.”

Coriolanus meowed in return.

As Coryo left the library, you found the painter staring at you. You expected him to resume painting, but he continued to stare. “Is there something the matter?” you asked.

“I have painted many couples in my time,” he said, “and I have never seen a husband as devoted as His Majesty. If it would please Your Majesty, I would love to come another day and paint a portrait of the two of you together.”

You smiled. “To add to our gallery of non-traditional portraits?”

“Of course,” he said. “Anything that the two of you wish for.”

Oh, you liked that. You grinned ear-to-ear as you asked, “And if I wished for another portrait of myself, done in the style of the goddess of old?”

He flushed. “Anything you wish, Your Majesty.”

“You are going to be quite handsomely paid by the time we are done with you.”

You turned back to your book, still smiling as you considered the various portraits you were going to gift your Coryo. He could give you a library, yes, but you were going to give him a gallery. If he didn’t appreciate art in all its glory before, he would soon enough.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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vacayisland · 10 months

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HIII i saw that you were taking request so im just asking if you could make a John dory x reader insert fanfic?

John dory meeting his spouce on the mission with Branch and Poppy when they find Bruce and hits it off with them while their is working at Bruces little diner?

@!; It's always a "vacay" with you. John Dory (JD) / Reader

"Summary"! John Dory didn't expect meeting the love of his life on a mission to save his brother; yet here he was, finding himself oh so fascinated with you that Spruce, Branch, and Poppy are having to physically pull him away from Vacay Island! "Tags"! Fluff! A lil awkward. Also, not proof read. I need to research JD a little more before writing another fanfiction about him, yet I tried my best with his personality!

@!; The last thing that John Dory expected from this mission was to find someone who completed him wholly, fully, and completely. The last thing he expected, when arriving to Vacay Island was to fall in love, head over heels for another Troll. The last thing he expected to come from this mission was to find someone who finally understood; understood him and his ways and how he is. Who made him want to be better while helping make him better; and in turn he helps them be a better version of themself. And it felt like some sort of weird destiny. They were only going to the island to find Spruce; a mission with one end goal, one way to go. Yet, when following Spruce (now Bruce) into his co-owned resort, singing had caught his attention right away...

Branch and Poppy kept following after Spruce, who hadn't turned around yet and kept trying to wave the two off while claiming his band days were over and to keep it all hushed-hushed. Though JD had stopped half way through the walk, hearing a tune flutter through the speakers of the indoor seating area. His interest had been captured, it was held captive with ever flutter of the sweet notes that wafted through the air. Though he slowly started to back up to follow his younger brother to get Spruce, he kept his eye out for the person who held such a lovely voice. "This is my wife, Brandy!" JD had swung himself on top of the bar top just as Bruce was introducing his wife. He was about to wave them off, though took a quick double turn when he actually saw who Bruce's wide was. Then grew even more confused when Bruce was bombarded with 10... 11... maybe 12 kids?! "How do you?-" JD pointed towards Brandy and Bruce, managing to interject between all the kids and chaos; Asking the one question that him, Poppy, and Branch were thinking - maybe less Poppy, and more him and Branch. Yet still, how would such a relationship even work? Nevertheless work so well where they had so many children- wait no, JD scrunched his nose as the thoughts that came to mind. He subtly leaned away from the two, glancing between Branch and Poppy and Bruce and Brandy. He turned them out for a moment, glancing back at the open sitting area as everyone chatted and spoke, laughed and cackled, just having a good time. And that's when he saw a flash of color, different from the other warmer-tones. JD didn't notice the way his breath caught in his throat the moment you swung by, landing on the counter top with a skidded stop. Despite wearing roller blades, the wheels didn't bother you. "Brandy! You got the food for Skid and Mary?" "Oh hey! Guys, that's (Y/N), a worker of mine." Bruce cut in as Brandy nodded, ringing a bell before a basket of fries and burgers were pushed out from the kitchen. She would take them, slide them across the counter to you, and you would, as though these plates weren't triple your size, hooked your hair around the holes of the basket. "Thanks, gotta run! Oh- hey Bruce." A wave, bright smile, and you were off; having stopped in for a brief moment but completely capturing JD's attention once again. He couldn't help but watch as you skated off, dragging the plates behind you while dodging whoever and whatever came your way. "So they was singing." JD blurted, not exactly meaning to. Though he captured his brothers and Poppy's attention. Bruce simply crossed his arms, "Oh, (Y/N)? Yeah! They always sing while they work, sometimes they even take a break to entertain everyone with a musical number." Though JD didn't catch it, Branch give him a skeptical look; being quicker to catch onto the way JD looked on you and the slightly softer tone he had.

@!; JD wasn't sure what attracted him to you yet, but he found himself looking for you every second of their stay trying to convenience Bruce to come help save Floyd. Even during the 'Brozone's back' performance, he looked for your face in the crowd; trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of you and your rolling skating antics. When they were done, while Poppy and Bruce's family were cheering them on, his eyes were stuck on the crowd. His nose scrunched as he tried to keep old thoughts out of his head, wondering why you weren't here praising him for his singing or anything like that. No, he cannot think like that. He's growing, he's outgrown that mindset- "Earth to JD!" JD snapped out of his thoughts at Poppy frantically waving her hand in front of his face. A hard blink and he turned over to the staring company. Brandy had a knowing look, in which JD squinted at trying to decipher. Poppy playfully punched JD's arm, "Oh, good to have you back!" A big grin paired her child like antics, in which JD only laughed and brushed off. "What are you talking about, I've been here since the beginning. After all, I'm the one who found Floyd's lett-" Yet he wasn't able to finish before Branch cut in. "Yeah, half here. Ever since we stepped foot here you've been," And Branch waited no time drawing a circle at the side of his temple, pairing it with a whistle; effectively calling JD insane, or mainly out of it. Poppy playfully slapped Branch's arm away from his head, saying something about how that was rude to do. Branch smiled a little, but tried to keep a straight face, as he gestured over to JD with a 'come on' type of look. Poppy glanced over to JD for a moment then back at Branch, a silent agreement that she would try to make unobvious. Bruce simply chuckled at their antics. "What? What's funny?" JD pointed at Bruce, narrowing his eyes a little as his more laid-back brother. "Oh nothing.." And there was a hint in Bruce's voice that made it sound like there was more. Yet he didn't say anything, arms crossed, as he gave JD a knowing look. An oddly, really knowing look. It threw JD off. He wasn't that readable anymore, he wasn't how he was when the band was together and his brothers shouldn't know how he is! He didn't like that look. So he glanced away from Bruce. Yet there was a feeling in his gut that JD knew that Bruce had some sort of hint of what was distracting him.

@!; The mission had been delayed a day. Bruce needed to stay back for a day longer to help Brandy with the kids and figure out all the logistics of leaving so suddenly. JD had gone off on his own, letting Branch and Poppy do their own thing, as he went to go walk on the beach. There wasn't much else to do than to walk on the beach and take in the scene. He didn't exactly want to get into the water, despite how impressing it might be to you- And there his mind goes again! JD cursed himself and cursed his thoughts and cursed you!- Then he paused, with a scrunch of his nose. He couldn't curse you no matter how much he was irritated you infiltrated his thoughts. He hasn't even spoken to you! How would he know you would even like him? That he would even like you! "A little help!!" JD's attention snapped behind him as he heard the shout from an all too familiar voice. Yet he didn't have time to react, seeing a troll barreling towards him with their arms extended and a panic-stricken look. JD jumped out of the way, landing in the sand and purposefully with more force than needed to dig himself in. You whizzed by him and he quickly shot his hair our towards you, wrapping it around your waist and trying to hold onto the friction from the sand to slow you down. Yet, maybe he should have dug himself in deeper. He knew this as soon as his left foot lost footing and he shot forward, dragging across the sand and towards you. He tried grabbing onto something, yet you both only crashed into each other; And while that helped to stop you, it also caused you both to barrel and roll into the shore of the ocean, effectively drenching you both in salty water. JD groaned, laying in the mushy sand floor, feeling the waves crash up against him and recede slowly back once they came. He felt groggy, a little disorientated, yet he didn't have much time to reflect on that feeling when someone began to shake him. "Oh my god! Please don't be dead- please!" And with a few slaps to his cheek, JD shoved a hand into the face of whoever was trying to bother him at this moment. There was a silence for a moment, maybe out of shock, before JD heard the person beside him let out a deep sigh. It was a sigh like the weight of the world had been lifted off the person's shoulders, releasing them some sort of trouble or entanglement with liability. JD opened one eye when the ocean drew back again, keeping his eyes half-lidded, as he tried to see who was with him in the ocean. He swore he nearly died the minute that he saw you, soaking head to toe and looking down at him with the most worrisome look. He jolted up to a sit, not realizing his hand was still cupping your mouth until a moment later; When he drew it back, glancing down at it and back up at you, then cautiously placing it beside him. "Are you okay?" And despite how awkward this situation could be, you didn't make it that way. And JD slightly hoped it was because you saw the look on his face; The silent apology he couldn't bare himself to say. He's been working on himself, but he's not that level of worked on yet. Especially since he knew he owed a few people some big apologies.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." JD mumbled after a minute. He took in a deep breath before placing his hands on his knees and standing up, letting out the breath in a long sigh as he did so. "Oh- um! That's good." Your smile was anxious, a little weary, as you still sat in the mushy sand in the fire range of the waves. JD offered you his hand. You took it, allowing him to help you onto your feet. And that awkward silence along with a prolonged holding of hands. JD wasn't sure why, but he noticed the way your hand fit perfectly into his like all your hands were made to do was hold each other. He kind of didn't want to let go, but did so for the sake of comfortability. It would be awkward to hold hands with a strange, right? And no matter how many fangirls they had felt with in Brozone, JD would never know that answer. He guessed yes, by the way your eyes shifted to the left in an uncomfortable fashion. Yet he saw the way your eyes flicked back to his the moment he let go. He noticed the way your hand dropped to your side limp-like, and the small smile that crept to your face. There was some sort of glint in your eyes that drew JD in again. Though he couldn't exactly tell what that sparkle was for; he just hoped you were going the same way his brain was. "Hey," A pause, you were chewing over your words. "Would you like to talk over a basket of nachos?" "Were you reading my mind?" JD cocked up his eyebrow, giving you a snicker as he saw the cheeky look that rose on your face. "Maybe I am, you'll never know! But I have an employ discount I still have to use and this seems like the perfect occasion to take my break." And you grinned a grin that made JD feel like you were looking right through him; That you knew all his flaws and strengths all at once and yet still loved him for every single one of them. And maybe he was insane to think so. And maybe JD should get to know you better before he jumps to conclusions. But, shit, you had him hooked in a way no Troll has had him before.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#dreamworks trolls #brozone x reader #john dory trolls #trolls brozone #john dory headcanons #brozone #trolls fandom #trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls dreamworks #john dory #branch #queen poppy #trolls branch #floyd trolls #clay trolls

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Then I Saw You

Basil Stitt X f!Reader

Beta Read By: @xbellaxcarolinax - Using prompts by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, a few Nonnies, and my own ideas.

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

You moved in next door to Basil Stitt two weeks after his incident. After everyone he cared about ignored his calls and acted like he didn't exist, he was starved for affection, and your pretty voice caught his attention immediately. He decided he'd do just about anything to have you all for himself...anything.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks.

NSFW, non-con, rape, sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, masturbation, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, breeding kink if you REALLY squint, non-consensual somnophilia, drugged sex, non-consensual drug use, minor mention of suicide but NO actual death or implied death in fic, also me making some shit up like how peepholes work, neighbor!Reader, dark fic, dark Basil Stitt. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 9.8k

Basil saw the moving truck outside when it pulled up by the curb. Two men got out, opened up the back, and started to bring someone’s belongings inside. His apartment was only one of the two on his floor. The old man across the hall went to a nursing home a couple of weeks ago…was he getting a new neighbor? Sure enough, he heard them opening the door across from his and moving things inside.

He looked around at his living space, a disgusting mess of old pizza boxes, empty alcohol bottles, and his broken belongings. No doubt he’d need to get a better handle on his outbursts. He’d already received a notice from the landlord with all the banging and shouting the person living below him had dealt with. Depending on the kind of person the new neighbor would be, he might get more than just a warning if they heard him being too rambunctious.

That’s when he heard your voice, a sweet thing that crept under the gap between his door and the hardwood floor that he was likely to lose his security deposit for after destroying it. He ran to the peephole, looking through the lens and seeing you for the first time.

His heart felt like it stopped beating. His entire body shook as he pressed his palm to the door. You were…beautiful.

“What the fuck…” he whispered to himself, as you walked into your apartment. “W-what the…” he stepped away from the door, “fuck.”

The second your door opened again he was pinned to his own, his good eye glued back at the peephole to get a glimpse of you. He whined, seeing your pretty smile as you handed the movers some money. Why were you smiling at them like that? Basil paused. Why did he care?

Maybe it was that you sounded, and looked, so nice. His calls to his girlfriend had still been unanswered, and the same could be said for his parents. You looked like someone who would care about him. Someone who could look past…

No.

Despite wanting to stare at you longer, he stepped in front of his mirror instead. There was no way you would be able to stomach looking at someone like him. He touched the reddened, rippled deformity on the left side of his face. An overwhelming dread poured into his chest, making him feel heavy with sorrow. How could anyone love him? His own mother couldn’t even be bothered to speak to him, even after all the voicemails he left.

“Yeah absolutely, I’d love that,” you giggled in the hall.

You’d love what? Basil thought, rushing to the door once again to see who had you feeling so upbeat.

You had a piece of paper in your hand. He didn’t like how one of the movers was smiling and looking at you. Was he flirting with you? Basil’s hand reached for the door handle, but he stopped. What was his plan? Was he going to walk out there, someone you’d never seen or met before in your life, and just tell the guy to fuck off?

In a perfect world…yes.

He’d step out there, no paper bag on, and tell the man off. Basil imagined you’d be so enamored with his actions that you’d kiss him, smiling at him the way you were smiling at the mover right now. You’d touch his cheek and look at him as though his face were normal, like it was just a couple of short weeks ago. Your lips looked so soft.

Basil whined, pressing his entire body against the door, cock rubbing between the wood and his abdomen. He saw you go into your apartment again, closing the door behind yourself. Over the next couple of hours he sat in front of the door, waiting…listening for your voice. All he heard was the sound of the movers going in and out, until finally there was nothing.

He stood there in the still of the silence, breathing slowly and trying to contain himself. He thought about opening his door again and knocking on yours, introducing himself as any good neighbor would. His breath hitched in his throat when he considered your reaction though. What if you saw his face…

What if you saw the monster he’d become?

“No, no, no…” he shouted, feeling emotionally overwhelmed at the thought of your rejection.

He would rather spend his life watching you through his peephole than risk your outright denial of him. At least in his mind, he could think up a million fantasies where you loved him, let him take you on a beautiful date, and where you were pinned underneath him, screaming his name while he made you come over and over again.

He was still so fucking hard. He needed you to step out of your apartment. He needed you now. Just the sound of your voice would do something for him. If he could just hear it, just a little bit, it was all he needed. He slowly opened the door and stepped into the hall, ensuring no one was there. He walked up to your door, looking through the lens to see if he could get a glimpse of you.

You walked by, and he thought he might collapse. You’d changed into something more comfortable, a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. As you should, it was rather warm that day. You deserved to be comfortable, perhaps even naked. Basil’s thoughts consumed him as he watched you bending over to open a box, pulling some things out, and disappearing from view. How lucky he was that you put those boxes right there by the door.

His hands gripped the doorframe tightly, and he rutted his hips involuntarily against the door. His whole body shook, watching you move so freely around your new home. He wondered what would happen if he just walked in and took you while you were bent over in a box. Your pussy was right there, hiding behind such a thin layer of fabric. Surely it would be easy to just…

He bit his lip so hard he tasted iron, rolling his cock faster against the door. His breathing was labored, needy, and desperate for you. Basil knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but you might like him if you just gave him a chance. He could thrust into your wet, velvety heat and make you scream out like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. Or maybe you’d cry out in terror because no one wants to fuck a monster.

He let out a low growl, feeling his cock ache while it leaked in his pants. You’d heard the sound, stopping what you were doing to turn and face the door.

That was it.

That was all he needed to see before he lost it. His body shook against the door while a soft whimper left his lips. Hot cum spilled out through his clothes, leaving a wet streak on the wood he’d been rutting against. He sighed, finally feeling some sense of satisfying relief. Even after all the nights he’d spent palming his own release, he’d never felt so good.

You did this to him.

He had to move, looking into the peephole to see that you were coming closer. Basil darted from your door, opening his quickly and locking himself inside silently. He didn’t want you to know he was there. He couldn’t let you know he was there. He couldn’t let you see his fucking face.

----

It only took him a few days to get your schedule figured out.

In the morning when you left - he presumed for work - you were dressed so nicely. He would’ve followed you but, on account of his horrific deformity, he couldn’t. So he settled for what little bits of you he could. He loved it most when you’d come home, tired from the day and retreating to your apartment so he could sneak over to your door and peek at you.

He would only allow himself a few moments of watching before his conscience forced him back to his own place where he would fuck his fist raw, passing out on the couch. Everything was fine, and he could see himself doing things that way forever, until it wasn’t enough anymore.

He needed more.

Basil found a gift card to a coffee shop up the road that he knew only had a dollar and some change left on it, and made his way to your door late one night about a week after you’d moved in. You were already in bed, at least, he assumed you were. It was two in the morning and he couldn’t hear a sound coming from your apartment. Basil stuck the card in between the frame and the door, wiggling very slowly so as not to make a lot of noise.

Click.

When your door opened slowly, he felt his heart fluttering wildly. This was it. This was the moment that he finally would get to see you. He stepped slowly, sock-covered feet treading silently over your floor. Your apartment was laid out exactly the same as his only mirrored, making it easy for him to get to your bedroom. He stopped when he got to the doorway though. There was a mirror on the wall to his right.

Turning to see his appearance, he lost all confidence. The grotesque creature looking back grounded him. He couldn’t go in there, not like that. What if you woke up? Maybe if he was still attractive he could make you understand why he was there, standing over you and watching you sleep, but not like the way he looked now. If he tried that now, you’d scream, calling him a freak, or a monster. He couldn’t risk hearing such horrid words coming out of such a pretty mouth, so he backed away.

“Another day…I’ll see you another day then,” he whispered with a soft cry leaving his lips. “Goodbye.”

On his way out, he stopped when his foot landed on something unexpected on your living room floor. He reached down, feeling something soft in his hands. He knew immediately what he was holding, but he brought it to the dim light coming through the window from the moonlit sky to look at it anyway. They were black, made with delicate lace…your panties.

----

Basil stared at your panties on his bed for at least two hours. He hadn’t smelled them yet because he wanted to pace himself. He wanted to savor them, enjoy them as long as he could before he had to steal another pair. Deep down he hoped they would fix him; that they’d be enough to satisfy the unquenchable thirst you seemed to fill him with. At the same time, he knew deep down that this was likely only the beginning of what would become something very, very, dark.

Taking the delicate fabric in his hands, he brought them to his face, rubbing the place that touched your cunt along his nostrils and inhaling so deep he thought he might faint. He shuddered, falling back and catching himself on his desk. He moaned, feeling them against his face once more.

“Fuck, fuck baby…” he whined, breath coming out in a ragged pant.

His tongue darted out, dragging along the place where your flavor was most potent. He whimpered, squeezing the desk so hard his knuckles ached. He licked again. You tasted too good, so delicious he thought he might die if he never got his mouth on the real thing.

Basil’s elbow brushed against the handle on the knife he’d stabbed into his desk multiple times. He snatched it up, holding it and turning it in his hand, letting the moonlight shine off the metal. He could see his mattress just over the edge, and had - what he thought was - a brilliant idea. His cock ached, and it was your fault. Once again he needed to satisfy his urges because you wouldn’t.

He stormed over to the bed, knife in hand, before stabbing a hole deep into the center, making sure it was big enough to take him. He didn’t even know where the knife landed when he threw it to the other side of his apartment, and he didn’t care. Basil wrapped your panties around his pillow before hastily removing his pants, hands shaking in the process. He’d never felt so fucking desperate.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that the stuffing in the mattress was a good substitute for your beautiful pussy. It wasn’t, nothing would ever be a good enough substitute for you, but this wasn’t too bad. He slid himself in all the way, body shaking at the sensation as the cotton moved aside for him. Basil buried his face into your panties, taking in your smell some more, and licking them to breathe in your taste.

The bed rocked against the floor, probably loud enough to piss off the occupant of the apartment below him. He didn’t fucking care, he was busy.

“Mm, that’s it, baby, you feel so fucking good,” he whispered the words he wished he could say to you. “So tight, you’ve been waiting for someone like me to come stretch you out hm? Fuck.”

He wondered if you’d like the way he sounded when he was grinding into you. Would you like listening to his hungry moans and low growls? What about when he whimpered and whined? He always thought he sounded a little pathetic, but would you judge him for it? He couldn’t help it, when the pleasure overwhelmed him he had to vocalize it.

“Honey, you’re so sweet,” he kissed your panties, imagining that you’d squirm for him when he did. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

He was good with his tongue, he knew you’d like it if you’d just let him have you. There wasn’t a man alive that would spend hours with his tongue flicking over that swollen little clit until you were nearly pissing yourself from overstimulation, not the way Basil would. No one could love you the way he would.

His drool made your panties wet, the taste and smell already mixing with his own while he fucked the hole in his mattress sloppily. He got louder, practically yelling in a loud rasp while he mouthed at his pillow.

“You’re so good, s-so g-good.” His voice became heavier, deeper, more like a low, feral growl as his climax closed in.

Basil’s body stopped with his cock buried to the hilt inside the mattress. His body trembled and shook while he pumped shot after shot of hot sticky cum into the cotton. He was practically screaming, face buried into the pillow to muffle the sounds. His mind went blank, except for your face. He felt his cock twitching, emptying every bit it could into the damn mattress.

It was just a fucking mattress.

Basil’s heavy breathing slowed and eventually turned to sobs. He held the pillow close, crying into it, soaking the fabric with his tears. What kind of loser fucks a mattress? He thought to himself, feeling his cock getting soft inside the hole he’d made.

----

Basil woke the next morning with his drool adhering your panties to his scarred cheek. His cock was dried with cum to the hole in his mattress. He groaned, feeling like he’d had the night of his life…only to quickly realize that he looked like a pathetic mess that his own mother couldn’t even bring herself to love. He’d fucked his mattress.

What kind of loser…

His thoughts trailed off before he could finish repeating the sentiment of the night before. He peeled his face off the pillow and winced in pain while pulling his dick out of the bed. He heard your voice in the hall, calling him like a siren song to his peephole. He looked out there, and you were standing in the hall laughing with your phone to your ear.

“Yeah you can pick me up at seven, that would be great,” you said as you disappeared out of view.

“The moving man…” Basil said to himself, turning away from the door and running both hands through his hair with his eyes wide, his anger building.

He saw himself in the mirror again, face dropping as he was reminded of his disgusting appearance. His hair was everywhere, cock limp and just hanging there like a sad, pathetic thing. His shirt had pizza sauce stains all over, and discoloration under the armpits. In a moment - a very short moment - of clarity, Basil realized that even if he did manage to get you to move on from the scar, he wouldn’t be able to impress you looking, and smelling, the way he did.

“Alright, you’re going on a fucking date with some fucking loser huh?” He said, feeling the pain ripping through his chest. “Let me show you what you’re missing!”

He showered, feeling clean for the first time since the incident. When he stepped out of the shower, he noticed the good side of his face for the first time in over two weeks. The way the steam covered the mirror, only the unblemished side was visible. He touched it, feeling comfort in the fact that he could pretend for a moment that he was normal, that everything was normal.

He turned the hot water in his bathroom sink on, keeping the mirror steamed up while he took his razor blade and shaving cream out of the cabinet. He had to keep wiping the mirror so he could see himself, and that was probably why he nicked his cheek a little. He cursed, finishing the shave and then holding a small bit of toilet paper to the wound. As if he needed more deformities on his face.

Once composed, Basil walked out to his living room, realizing finally what a mess it was. He couldn’t possibly bring you in there with it looking like that. And he was going to bring you in there one way or another.

It took him all day to get his apartment back to a, somewhat, normal state. Basil had to push through several mood swings in the process, fantasizing about how impressed you would be, complimenting how nice his place was, and reality creeping its way into his mind and reminding him that you were going on a date tonight…

A knock on his door forced all the thoughts to a stop. Who the fuck was knocking on his door? He hadn’t bought pizza or groceries. The new mattress he ordered wasn’t expected until next week. Basil walked up to his peephole, peering through only to nearly collapse when he saw you. He stepped away from the door as if it were made of hot coals.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. His body immediately started trembling. “Um…I can’t come to the door right now!”

“Oh!” He held his chest when you spoke. You were speaking to him. “Well that’s okay, I just wanted to leave you some cookies.” You chuckled softly. “I honestly didn’t even realize I had a neighbor until I heard you playing some cool music yesterday.”

“C-cool music?”

Basil was still so in shock that you were even speaking to him that he’d forgotten how inconsiderate he’d been yesterday afternoon. He remembered playing music so loudly it probably could be heard by you and the downstairs neighbor.

“I’m sorry if it was annoying, I’ll keep it down next–”

“No it’s alright! I actually like it!” You couldn’t be that perfect, you couldn’t be. “Well, I hope you like chocolate chip, I’ll leave them here! I’m not the best cook but I tried.”

Your little giggle would be the death of him.

“I would like anything you made for me…” He said softly as he was struggling to breathe.

“What did you say?”

He cleared his throat, “I um…thank you so much I’m sure they’re great.”

“Okay well, have a good day! Maybe I’ll see you another time.”

With that, you were gone, and Basil’s knees felt so weak he had to sit on the floor. You talked to him. You fucking talked to him. You really did like him. You must have liked him, why else would you have come to his door and left him such a nice gift?

Basil waited by his door until he was sure you were gone before opening it and pulling the cookies inside. They were still warm, you must’ve just made them and waited for them to cool off before bringing them to his door. He held one in his hand, turning it around to decide which side to bite first. He finally bit into it, feeling the sweet flavor fill his mouth, forcing a smile over his lips.

You made those for him.

Basil ate too many cookies, and with the pang of despair rushing through him periodically at the thought of you going on a date in just an hour, he found himself with his head in the toilet bowl, vomiting uncontrollably. He groaned into the bowl, beginning to cry in frustration. He couldn’t keep himself together. You deserved to go on that date with someone else, someone who wouldn’t flush the delicious gift you brought them because they didn’t know how to establish self-control.

Your door opened at 6:55pm on the dot. Basil was, of course, watching you. He felt his cock aching immediately at the sight of you in that tight black dress. Watching the way it shifted as your hips swayed down the hall made his heart rate rise quickly. He couldn’t believe that someone else would be seeing you in that, touching you in that.

He had the urge to be destructive again, feeling his breathing become rapid and labored in panic. He went to the window where he could see the street below to watch you get into the man’s car, only to see you standing there shivering. Why hadn’t you worn a coat? Basil looked over at the clock, 7:01pm. The guy was late.

While he didn’t enjoy seeing you waiting in the cold, Basil did like knowing the man was unreliable. He watched you pull out your phone, likely calling your missing date. He could tell the man didn’t answer by the way your arm dropped to your hip and head hung in disappointment. You waited though, still hoping he would show up, just standing there in the cold.

For ten more minutes Basil watched you wait, full of hope, only to end up disappointed in the end on your walk back into the building. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, wanting desperately to rush out into the hall and offer to take you out. He couldn’t though…that stupid fucking scar was ruining his life.

It hit him suddenly, that you would be hungry. He couldn’t let you go hungry, not after how sweet you’d been to him, so it was time to repay the favor. Even before the incident, Basil couldn’t cook for shit, and he wasn’t about to try now. This opened the door for another opportunity though…an opportunity to see you in person…

“No, no you’re crazy,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror.

He couldn’t see you like that, not with the horrible scar. And showing up at your doorstep with food in hand and a paper bag on his head would be even weirder than the scar. But if you were asleep, well, it would be hard to be afraid of him then…wouldn’t it?

With a plan in place, he called to order a pizza. He didn’t know what you liked yet, but everyone liked pizza, right? You were nice, you’d probably eat it even if it wasn’t your favorite. Plus you’d be hungry. He was banking on you being hungry.

The food arrived at his door a little while later, and the delivery man knew to just leave it on the floor. Basil took the sleeping pills he was prescribed and crushed them, sprinkling the dust over each slice so you were sure to get some in your system. Every bit of reasonable thinking was gone. He needed more than just your damn panties and a cum filled mattress.

He needed you.

Basil put the pizza in front of your door and knocked before scrambling back into his own place. He watched through the peephole as you stepped out, dressed in a comfortable pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt. You sniffled and looked down at the pizza with a confused expression. It was obvious that you’d been crying.

That’s what you get for thinking someone else could do better for you than I can. Basil thought to himself.

You lifted the sticky note he’d adhered to the box, reading over it slowly before a smile appeared on your face.

Thought you might be hungry.

The cookies were really good, here’s some pizza.

Your neighbor, Basil

Basil’s heart nearly stopped. You were smiling because of something he did. You were smiling because of him.

“This is so nice of you,” you said softly, looking at the door. “Would you…would you want to come in and have some too?”

There’s no way this was real. There’s no way you were actually inviting him into your apartment. Basil looked down at his clothes and straightened out his shirt. His breathing became shallow at the thought. This was so unexpected, he couldn’t believe it. Basil looked over at the table next to the door and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bowl he usually tossed his keys in.

“Um…I can’t, but you should enjoy it,” he said with a crack in his voice.

He was surprised to see the look of disappointment on your face. This must be his delusions toying with him again. You weren’t disappointed that he wouldn’t come to your apartment, that would never be the case. He stood there awkwardly, watching you through the peephole, waiting for you to leave.

“Well, you didn’t have to do this, but thank you so much, I actually am hungry.” You paused and sighed, “I’m glad you liked the cookies,” you said to him before retreating to your own apartment once again, pizza in hand.

Basil was trembling at the door for the better part of a half hour. He was stunned by your reaction, by the fact that you invited him over. It couldn’t be real. You’d fucking invited him over! If you’d known what a loser he was, would you have still invited him? If you’d known he fucked a hole in his mattress while intoxicated by the smell of your cunt would you still want him in your home?

----

He waited until it was late and he knew you’d be sound asleep. He walked into your apartment, noticing the pizza on the counter, the box still open, and three slices missing. Surely you’d consumed enough to be comatose for the time being. He stepped into your bedroom and froze.

“Wow,” he whispered, staring intently at your half-dressed form on the bed.

You hadn’t even covered up. Did you know there was a chance he might creep into your house and you wanted to be ready for him? Did you wear that tank top that barely covered anything and those lacy panties knowing he would like them? What about the way your lips parted…were you expecting him to kiss them?

Basil knelt down, reaching his shaking hand out to touch your cheek. Your skin was so soft. He felt a sob swelling in his chest. If his face was still soft, would you let him touch you while you were awake? Would you be able to actually look at him without being disgusted? He couldn’t even look at himself without being disgusted anymore.

“So pretty…”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, in a small way he was testing to see if it would wake you. You stayed asleep, and so he moved forward, pressing his lips against yours. He stayed there for so long, just letting his mouth linger, feeling the way his skin felt against yours. He felt his cock growing already, aching and pressing against the zipper in his jeans. He wanted to feel your mouth in other ways, a kiss wasn’t enough.

“Someday I hope you’ll be able to enjoy this while you’re awake but…for now this is how we need to do this, okay?” he looked at you, knowing you wouldn’t answer, but hoping your subconscious would somehow hear him and understand.

Basil unbuttoned his pants, sliding the zipper down slowly and pulling the waist down with his boxer briefs as well. His fat cock bobbed out, already leaking from the head, slick strands dripping to the floor beneath him. He held the top of your head with one hand, and his length with the other, bringing the weeping tip to your pretty lips.

His body trembled immediately, feeling the way your mouth opened around his girth. He moved in further, feeling the wet heat of your tongue on the underside of his shaft. If he gagged you would you wake? He tested it, sliding forward more, watching those lips stretch around him. If you were awake you’d look up at him so pretty, eyes filling with tears as you struggled to take him all the way.

He stuffed himself all the way into your mouth, the tip of his cock resting in your throat. He could feel your body responding to the foreign object naturally, throat closing around him while you gagged, but you stayed asleep. The feeling was indescribable, causing his entire body to shake and tremble while he kept your head impaled on him.

“You’re too good baby, too good…you're gonna make me come…gonna make me come too fast! Ah!”

Basil pulled his cock out of your mouth and jerked his spend onto your cheek. He fisted himself angrily, beyond pissed that he couldn’t hold it in for more than one fucking minute. If the time ever came - which he expected it wouldn’t - that he managed to get you in bed while awake, if his face didn’t scare you off, the fact that he was a minuteman surely would.

He looked all around for something to clean you up with, but anything in your apartment would have to be taken out, or else you’d know someone was there. Basil decided to peel off his t-shirt, using that to wipe your face clean. He leaned against the wall, looking at you, still scowling and infuriated with his inability to perform, even while you were sleeping.

The longer he looked at you though, the more aroused he became all over again. Maybe getting off so quickly wouldn’t be a dealbreaker…not with you being his own personal aphrodisiac. He walked over to you again, touching your hip and squeezing your flesh. He pushed you onto your back, hooking a finger into the waist of your cute little panties. To his surprise, between your lips was sticky, warm, and wet. Did he do this to you? Did he have this effect on you?

Basil pulled your underwear down your beautiful legs slowly, staring at the slit between them hungrily. He felt some drool spilling over his bottom lip that he wiped away quickly. Tossing your panties aside, he crawled onto the bed, lowering his head between your thighs. He could smell you as he closed in, the same familiar smell he’d spent the other night drowning himself in.

Using two thick fingers, he spread your lips, watching the slick strands of your arousal stretch and break as they moved further apart. Everything was glistening and wet, and it was all for him. He leaned in, licking a stripe up and collecting what he could on his tongue, bringing it in past his lips and letting the taste settle in his mouth before swallowing.

He became immediately addicted, going in and pressing his face against your mound, moaning loudly into it. He wondered if you’d notice the feeling of his textured skin against your thighs. Would you find that disgusting? Of course you would. You’d probably yell at him and throw him out of your apartment just for looking at you with that milky broken eye in his head while he ate you out.

Not while you were asleep though. While you were sleeping he could plunge two fingers into your tight little hole and feel your cunt clenching around him. In your sleep you wanted him, you were pulling his fingers in deeper like you were starving and needed to taste him. It wasn’t enough, his fingers just weren’t going to do it for you, you needed more.

Positioning himself between your limp legs, Basil brought his cock to your entrance, gliding it between your folds to get it slick with your juices. If you were awake he imagined you might be moaning, whimpering, maybe even begging for him. He tested your threshold, seeing how well the last man in there had stretched you out. Not very well it would seem.

Slowly, he slid himself in, shuddering as he felt your walls closing down over every inch. He used two fingers to hold your puffy lips open so he could watch your cunt swallowing his cock. He needed to last, he needed to keep himself from coming too soon again. He might be a pathetic freak, but he wasn’t going to spill his load like one.

Fuck.

He wondered if this was how he would keep you. It was entirely possible he’d just pumped a baby into you without your knowledge, but that was okay. It was perfect actually. You wouldn’t want to have a baby without someone around to help you, right? He’d be able to swoop in and be there for you, to care for you.

He touched your stomach as he pulled out of you. He shuddered on the way out, looking down at the mess he made as it trickled from your pretty little hole. Basil had never been so proud of something in all his life. He may have been a hideous monster, but he made you look so beautiful just by stuffing you with everything he could. He wanted to do more. He wanted to do it again.

But he wanted you to be awake this time.

----

Another week went by of you and Basil trading food and notes throughout the day. It started the morning after he fucked your sleeping body that you came by with breakfast. He smiled and nearly cried again as he watched you put down the plate with a metal lid keeping it warm as if he’d ordered room service.

“Good morning. I don’t know if you like coffee but, you can come over and get some if you want,” you said, waiting to see if he’d respond.

He didn’t, instead he just stood there staring at you. He didn’t want to come over yet. Not while you were awake anyway. He couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing him and being afraid of what you saw. The thought of it was devastating and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Um, no thank you. Thank you for the breakfast though I’m looking forward to it. You’re a great cook.” He said through the door.

You looked disappointed again. Were you lonely or something? Why did you care if your neighbor wanted to come over or not? You didn’t even know him, wasn’t that dangerous? He sniffed out a laugh at his own thoughts.

“It’s fine, my offer stands,” you started for your apartment again.

“I’ll cover lunch,” he said quickly before you disappeared.

When lunch came, he wanted to do something better than pizza. You deserved something good after what you’d done for him the other night, so he ordered from one of the fancy restaurants nearby and had it delivered to your door. When you retrieved your food, you furrowed your brow and smiled widely.

“Really? Gino’s? That place is pretty pricey.”

“Well, you’re really kind so… I thought I’d do something nice for you,” he felt nervous every time you spoke to him.

To his surprise, you left the bag in the hall and disappeared into your apartment. Did he do something wrong? He started panicking, thinking maybe he’d offended you somehow. Did you hate expensive food? Did you not like Gino’s? He reached for the handle, ready to pull the bag into his apartment and hope you forgot about it altogether when your door opened again and you stepped out with a folding chair in hand.

“Well, if you’re going to buy me an expensive meal, the least I can do is join you for lunch. Did you get something to eat?” You asked, sitting down and pulling out the meal he’d bought for you.

“Uh, well…” he felt his stomach grumble suddenly when he realized he hadn’t thought of his own hunger in the slightest, “I had a big breakfast.”

You chuckled, “Yeah so did I…here…”

Basil watched in awe, still shocked you were even giving him the time of day, as you sorted the containers of food and made two meals out of the one he bought. You reached for his door and then stopped, dropping your hand at your side.

“I know you like to keep to yourself, so I’ll leave this here and turn around so you can get it, okay?”

Why were you so understanding? Were you quite literally the epitome of perfection wrapped up in the most beautiful looking person he’d ever seen? Basil, at this point, was nearly certain he was having visual hallucinations. It wouldn’t be the first time since the incident that he’d thought he’d seen things…or heard things. Maybe this was just him going completely nuts. Maybe this was just an extension of his psychotic break. You put the box of food down and turned.

Slowly, Basil opened the door, not peeking his head out far enough that you’d be able to see even if you did turn around, and he pulled the food back inside. You didn’t even try to peek. You didn’t let - what he assumed to be - your morbid curiosity get the better of you. Basil pulled a chair over and sat with his half of the meal on the other side of the door.

He couldn’t see you now, but he could hear you, and that was good enough for him.

“So, you obviously saw me get ridiculously embarrassed last night,” you said from the other side of the door.

He smirked, thinking about how much he enjoyed you last night, and how much you seemed to enjoy him, despite not ever knowing he was there. You called it embarrassing, but to Basil, it was an amazing, and unwasted, opportunity to show you something better.

“Well, maybe it’s good that he’s doing this now instead of wasting your time later,” Basil said, taking a bite of his food.

He thought about Katherine and the way she’d been to him. She cheated on him for so long, and yet he stayed. Since seeing you, Basil considered that he never really loved her, he just hated the thought of admitting someone could cast him away so easily after so many years. He further hated the thought of losing the social status that came with having a girlfriend. Everyone seemed to respect you and treat you differently if you had a pretty girl on your arm. He would’ve dealt with the cheating to avoid the shame of admitting she’d cheated on him, but he never really loved her.

Not the way he loved you.

“You’re very right about that,” you agreed with a mouthful of food. “What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

Basil laughed loudly, “me? Is that a joke?”

“Hey, just because you’re a hermit doesn’t mean you don’t have some online girlfriend or something.”

“No…no, no one would be interested in me,” Basil felt the weight of his loneliness on his chest again.

“You seem like a sweet guy, and you do have great taste in music, I’m sure there’s someone out there who would love to date you,” you chuckled, “this kinda feels like a date.”

Basil put his food down, having completely lost his appetite in favor of this conversation with you. He stood, going back to the peephole. You must’ve heard him because you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours and stared.

“Why?” He asked. “This is weird.”

“What’s weird? Me talking to you about my dating life when you literally live next door to me? You probably know more about what’s happening in my personal life than anyone,” you said, shaking your head and putting your food on the floor too.

You got up and walked to the door, putting your palm on the wood paneling and resting it there.

“When I came in from that date, well, lack thereof, I called my best friend and my mom, and no one answered,” you looked at the floor and then back at the peephole. “Some stranger who I hardly know, but who also seems to be going through something, was kind enough to send me a pizza. That kinda checks off a lot of boxes for me as far as someone I might be interested in getting to know better.”

“What if you find out I’m actually a horrible person? Like you said, you don’t know me,” he retorted, thinking about what he’d done to that pizza you were so grateful for.

“Are you a murderer?” You asked bluntly, keeping your eye on the peephole.

“Well no, no I’m not.”

“Okay then I don’t think–”

“What if I’m hideous?”

“I don’t give a shit about looks really,” you sighed and sat back down in your chair. “I know this is weird, that’s why I just want to talk to you, get to know you a little. Is that alright?”

You were right. There was no harm in getting to know him, except it gave him hope. The last thing he could handle was the thought of you leading him on and then turning him down once you saw his face. What if getting to know you only made his obsession grow? How would he ever recover from the crushing despair if you rejected him once you saw what he really looked like?

“Fine,” he said, sitting back down.

For days you shared meals and stories, taking turns sitting outside the other’s door while getting to know one another. Basil was falling for you. It was more than just that obsession to fuck you now, it was that need to call you his. It was the need to have you smiling and laughing with him on a lazy Sunday morning or while apple picking in the fall. Simultaneously, it was the need to have you moaning his name while you took every inch he had.

He would overcome anything for you, even his greatest fear, which was risking your potential rejection of him.

He gave himself the excuse he needed to knock on your door and come inside. You’d had a heavy package delivered, and while he was certain you could handle it, he decided to offer some help. Basil knocked on your door, heart pounding with every step he heard you took toward him. He adjusted the paper bag on his head, knowing he looked foolish, but he wasn’t ready to show you everything yet.

You opened the door, and he saw your eyes scanning him up and down. This was the first time he was seeing you in the open while awake, and you took his breath away. It was evening, so the two of you had already had your dinner date. The UPS driver came late, and you probably hadn’t planned on company, hence the short shorts and ill-fitting tank top.

“Basil?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

You were judging him, he could tell. His palms started to sweat and he lost the ability to speak. Could he remember how to breathe?

“Oh, my package!” You exclaimed, walking over to it and trying uselessly to lift it.

“I got it,” he said, coming out of his stupor and rushing to aid you.

You thanked him as he brought the package into your apartment and placed it down on your floor by the couch with a heavy grunt. He stood up, stepping away from the package. His paper bag rustled as he did so.

“Thanks. I probably could’ve dragged that in here myself but…I appreciate the help,” you sighed, giving Basil a smile that nearly stretched ear to ear.

If you could see his face, you’d see how flushed his cheeks were at your charming expression.

“What?” He asked, keeping his eyes on you.

“I’m just happy to see you out of your apartment,” you explained sincerely. “You don’t have to keep the bag on unless you want to, but it’s going to be kinda hard to drink some wine with it on.”

You went to one of your cupboards and pulled out a bottle of Barefoot Moscato and two glasses.

“All I’ve got is white, and it’s cheap,” you said, pouring the drinks.

“Oh um…I’m not…I was going to go back…”

“Come on Basil, please just stay for one glass?”

How could he say no when you looked at him like that? So sweet and begging that it nearly brought a tear to his eye to even think about turning you down.

“Y-you really want me to s-stay? You don’t think I’m weird or–”

You laughed, “I mean, you are wearing a bag on your head, I can’t lie and say that’s not odd but…” you trailed off as you handed him the glass of wine. “We’re all a little weird right? I mean, I’m letting a guy I barely know have wine with me in my apartment with a bag on his head. Who’s weirder?”

Basil couldn’t help laughing. You made a good point, so he decided to try and relax, and the wine certainly helped. Three glasses in each and you were both feeling a bit more loose, but he was also feeling something else. While you were laughing and telling him about how annoying this girl at work was, your breasts were bouncing with every wild movement of your arms. He was mesmerized.

“-And when I tell you that’s all she ever does…are you listening?” The bag on Basil’s head shifted as he looked back at your eyes.

“Yeah, yes.”

You chuckled, looking down at your chest and back up at him, shaking your head.

“All you men are the same, just after one thing huh?” You asked, downing a fourth glass of wine.

Basil’s heart stopped in terror. No. No, you couldn’t possibly think that of him could you?

“No, no it’s the wine I’m sorry I was zoning out and I wasn’t even looking at them I…I’m so sorr–”

“I’m kidding. You think I would’ve answered the door when I saw it was you out there wearing this if I didn’t want you to look at me?”

Basil let out a half-hearted chuckle, trying to breathe again, “kidding, right…” he finished off another glass as well. It was then that he realized what you’d said. “You want me to l-look at you? Like…like you…” he gulped, “you want me to…”

You laughed, nodding and sighing at him affectionately.

“Basil, I think you’re a nice guy, I want you to look at me.”

His mind was fuzzy, and even with only one good eye, he could see clearly as you started to bring the straps of your tank top down. Either your self-esteem was so on the floor, and you’d take your top off for any man that gave you the time of day, or you were really into him. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them crushed, so he took what he could get, and enjoyed the moment, watching you lower your top down, showing your beautiful chest off in a lacy bralette.

You couldn’t see the way Basil’s jaw dropped, or see the way the drool dribbled down his chin, but he couldn’t breathe again.

“I’m going to assume that you like what you see, even though I can’t tell what you’re looking at…” you raised your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes I’m sorry I’m just…wow…”

“Wanna feel ‘em?” You asked with a hiccup.

Could you get cuter? Your big, gorgeous eyes were looking at him from the other side of the couch, begging for validation. You really needed someone as pathetic as him to validate you? Someone so beautiful needed his reassurance to feel adequate? You were practically asking him to tell you just how much he loved your tits and wanted them. Who was he to deny you?

“Um…I…”

Before he could stutter any longer, you were crawling on the couch over to him, sitting on your knees, your chest perked up for him to admire. Basil’s cock had been at half mast for the better part of the hour, and now it was threatening to bust through the seam holding it back. With a shaking hand, he reached out, touching your breast underneath the thin fabric of the bralette. You bit your lip as his thumb brushed over your hard nipple.

“You have really big hands,” you said with a giggle that made Basil’s body spark with an electric shock.

“You like that? Big hands?” He asked, bringing his other hand to cup your neglected right breast.

“I do,” your tone was sultry and sweet.

A breathy moan escaped as his hands massaged your tits, taking his time to rub his thumbs over your peaks, feeling the way they got harder under the bralette. He pinched them, enjoying the way you whimpered when he did. You were so sensitive, he knew you would be, he could feel it.

He felt something else too, the unmistakable and insurmountable arousal growing inside of him and pooling in his groin. He cursed under his breath, squeezing your tits tight while he felt the heat, shooting in spurts, and wetting his lap, making a mess of himself…right in front of you. Basil froze, afraid to move, afraid that you would see how pathetic he was, blowing his load after only touching you for a second.

“Did…did you just…” you started, looking down at the dark, wet spot on his lap.

“I’m so sorry, this has never happened to me before,” he lied, trying to cover himself with his hands. “I’ll go, oh my–”

“No wait,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder before he could leave. “Are you kidding me? That’s so fucking hot.”

That was it, the proof Basil needed to convince himself that you were all in his head. Though he usually couldn’t feel his hallucinations, not like this anyway. He would’ve kissed you right then, but he couldn’t. You still didn’t know what he looked like, and no matter how much of his odd behavior you were willing to accept, he couldn’t be certain you would accept his deformity.

“Can you bend over for me?” He asked, voice soft and pleading.

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, turning around and putting a throw pillow under your chest. Basil removed the bag from his face, letting it drop off to the side of the couch. He could see you much more clearly now, bent over so nicely for him, rear poised and ready for him to touch. He stood up and unclasped his belt, then pulled down his soiled pants and boxer briefs, discarding them on the floor.

“Can you promise me you won’t look?” He asked, holding onto your hips as he positioned himself behind you.

You giggled and nodded, “yeah, I won’t look, I promise.”

He leaned over you, “thank you,” he whispered in your ear, feeling your body shudder in response, “such a sensitive girl.”

You whined as he kissed down your shoulder, bringing his hands to your waist and holding tightly. He ran his cock between your ass cheeks, feeling the sweet friction they provided was going to set him off again so soon after he just came. You said it was hot though…

“I’m sorry, it’s coming again I can’t stop–ah!”

Basil moved his hips faster and faster until he was shooting heavy ropes of white all over your back, getting some on the couch. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite your saying how much you liked it. You laughed again, wiggling your ass a little and rubbing it along his length.

“Such a needy boy,” you taunted, “get it in me next time.”

He furrowed his brow, running the fat tip of his cock along your slit. You still made him so fucking hard, no matter how many times he came, he could keep going as long as you were around. Basil watched your lips part, swallowing him whole until his pubic hair was brushing against your rear. He whined, feeling your walls flutter around him and hearing your satisfied sigh.

“Yes, oh wow, you’re f-fucking h-huge,” you said, gasping as though he’d been pounding you for hours, but he still hadn’t moved since he slid into you.

“You really like it? You think it’s big?” He pulled back, seeing how wet you made his cock until he slammed forward again.

You cried out, “oh god yes!”

Basil squeezed your waist tighter, finding a smooth rhythm that kept you wailing and drooling on your own couch. He watched you hold onto the arm of the couch, burying your face into the pillow and screaming into it like he was killing you. He pushed on your back, forcing you to gasp and groan, face being forced into the cushions.

He leaned forward, kissing your shoulder, “tell me how much you like it,” he whispered, “please, I need to hear you tell me how good I feel.”

“I-oh god I can’t-mm!”

“Please,” he begged pathetically, kissing your back again, “tell me it’s good, please.”

“It’s good Basil it’s…oh!”

He felt your pussy squeeze around him, and when he looked down he could see it throbbing while you gushed over his cock. You were incoherent, making high pitched whines as you continued losing yourself in the euphoria. He’d slowed his movements, trying once again to contain himself a little longer. It was clear you wanted more when you started moving on him again on your own, taking what you knew you needed.

“Basil,” you mewled.

He leaned into you again, “yeah?”

“I want to see you, please,” you said, voice pleading for the one thing he never wanted to give you.

Basil would give you his soul, his body, everything in his bank account in order to avoid letting you see his fucking face. He slammed into your hips, growing a little frustrated with your curiosity. Did you want to see it so you could mock him? So you could laugh at the man while he fucked you full? Why did you need to see him so badly?

“I want to see your face when you come,” you said as though you could read his mind.

Basil pulled out of you.

This was it.

He couldn’t keep hiding from you.

He sat back, feeling the cool leather of the couch against his rear.

“Fine,” he said coldly, feeling dread weighing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

You turned around slowly until you finally met his gaze. Your lips parted slowly, eyes scanning over his face as though you were mapping it out, memorizing the details. As you leaned in closer, Basil turned his face away from you, shielding the deformity from your eyes as though it might make you hate it less. He could feel the tears welling, he was already anticipating your harsh words.

“Why are you hiding from me? Pretty boy,” you cooed in the softest voice, reaching out a hand and touching his scarred cheek, turning him to face you.

“W-what did you just say?” He asked, a tear spilling over and running down his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’d keep your beautiful face hidden from me like that,” you climbed over his lap, straddling his hips.

“Are you playing with me? Huh? What’s your angle? Are you going to go to work tomorrow and tell all your friends you fucked a freak?” He was getting angry, but trying to keep it from boiling over.

You giggled, “do you really think that lowly of me, Basil?” your face closed in on his and your lips brushed against the rippled skin on his cheek softly.

He choked out a moan as you lowered yourself on him, stuffing your cunt full of him once again. You liked his face? You really liked it? He threw his head back, hair falling out of his eyes as he looked up at you. He guided you as you bounced up and down on his dick, feeling it bruising the deepest parts of you. You brought your hands to the back of his head, holding onto his dark curls tight while you kissed him deeply.

“Mm, you’re so so-good-baby,” he growled lowly, “use me, use me to get off again, I want you to come on me again and again I–”

“Shh,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his, forcing your tongue past his lips, and the second he tasted you, he let out a whimpering moan.

He squeezed your hips tighter, intoxicated by the feeling of you, and the sounds of your wet pussy slapping against his lap. He started rolling his hips upward, feeling himself getting deeper and deeper with every pass. It was like your body knew he belonged in there, making room for him as it should. You let out a guttural moan, deep from inside of you, and Basil could feel your cunt starting to flutter around him again.

He latched his lips to your neck, and you immediately held onto both of his shoulders and lurched forward, hips freezing while your cunt contracted over him in waves. Basil came once again, cock throbbing while it filled your little hole with everything he had. He pulled your hips down, placing both hands on top of your thighs and holding you there while he rutted upward, sobbing as he did.

He couldn’t believe you let him take you. He couldn’t believe you called him pretty. Most of all, he couldn’t believe that when you were both finished, panting heavily on the couch as clarity set in, you didn’t call him an ugly monster and scream at him to leave your apartment.

“So you…was that…did I do alright? You liked it? You don’t think I’m hideous?”

“Basil…” you leaned in and kissed his nose, “you’re perfect.”

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#basil #stitt #basil stitt fanfiction #basil stitt fan fiction #basil stitt x reader #basil stitt x you #basil stitt fanfic #basil stitt fan fic #lightningface fanfiction #basil stitt oneshot #basil stitt one shot #basil stitt smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #lightningface fan fiction #basil stitt x f!Reader #basil x reader #basil x you #basil stitt headcanons

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elexuscal · 2 years

Text

The "Top" fics in fandom are not the "Best"

I've seen a couple of posts here in there implying that the ways to find the best fics in fandoms are just to go to ao3, and sort by 'Most Kudoses', 'Most Bookmarks', 'Most Comments', etc. I've also seen some folks say they feel like their fics are failures if they don't make it to the front page(s), or at least near there.

But the simple fact: this is not true.

Now, I'm not saying that the top-rated fics in a fandom are bad.

Far from it! They're often very popular for a reason. Well written, fun dynamics, cool plots, etc. A lot of my own favourite fics have made it to the first page when you sort by "Most Kudos"-- but then, a lot of mine also haven't.

Why?

Because those selections are inherently biased.

What do I mean by that? Just that there are other factors influencing what stories accumulate the most comments/kudoses/etc in a fandom, meaning none of these serve as a neutral metric of quality.

I'm going to explain some of these biases briefly, just so folks get a sense of what I mean:

Age Bias This, I think, is the easiest to grasp. A fic that is three years old just has had more time to gain views than a fic that's three days old. Also, consider that pretty much any fandom needs time to grow. If you're in the first days/weeks/months of a fandom, there probably just isn't that much content being made. If there's only 10 fics on the archive, then 11th one stands out. It'll get a lot of attention. But if that same fic were to come out a couple years later, when there were 11 fics published in a single day, well, people are more likely to miss it. If you doubt me, take a look at the front page of 'Most Kudos' for a fandom of your choice. You'll probably see a lot of the stories there are on the older side- and this is exactly why.

Multi-Chapter Bias There are a lot of ways people find new fics to read, and one of the most basic is just: look at the front page of the most recent updates. Now, this way of sorting fics is exactly what it sounds like. A list of fics in order of when they were most recently posted/updated. But, obviously, if a fic has multiple chapters, it's going to appear on that front page way more often. A 50 chapter epic has 49 more chances to get seen this way than a one-shot. This issue becomes even more intense when you consider the Most Comments sort option. For a one shot, a person is probably likely to only comment once. Maybe if they really love the story and revisit, they'll leave a second or third. But multi-factor fics? By design, people come back every update. And that means a lot of people leave comments every single time. (Or at the very least, after big plot developments and twists!) This is what leads to long-running multi-chapter epics dominating the 'Most Comments' rankings in most fandoms.

Popular Pairing Bias Again, this is just obvious. Some pairings are more popular than others. A rare-pair fic can be just as soulful, hot, and well-written as a story featuring the fandom's powerhouse fic, but if only 30 people are interested, well... [shrug] Less people will click on it, kudos it, and leave a comment. To a lesser extent, you can expand this to any trope. 'Coffee Shop AUs' just seem to be more popular than, say, '1930s Mobster AUs'. That effects what tags people search, and what fics they find. But shipping is such an important element of many fandom cultures I thought it would be the most illustrative.

Positive Feedback Loop Bias And honestly, this is maybe the real clincher. Because I've established some of the things that can cause a story to start gathering lots of kudos, comments, and bookmarks in a first place. But once that starts, you get a positive feedback loop going. Because what's one of the first things a person does when they're looking for good stories in a fandom? They sort by 'Most Kudos'. And then they select the first story on the list, and they like it. So they leave a comment and kudos and... Yeaaaah.

So... What do we do about it?

Well. Nothing really. This isn't really a problem. It's just something to be aware of.

Any attempt to put metrics on something as subjective as art is going to fall short. So don't go rating the quality of your own stories about how well it performs, and don't go chasing those coveted top spots. You'll have a lot more fun if you just write stuff that you enjoy, make some friends, and recognise a lot of factors influence fanfic statistics beyond just quality.

Searching via most comments/kudoses/bookmarks remains one of the easiest and quickest ways to start diving into a new fandom. It's often the first things I do, and found stories I love that way.

That said: I highly encourage you to search for fics beyond just that method. Here are some of my suggestions if you want to figure out ways to get started:

Search up Fanfic Rec Lists. Lots of people put them on their blogs, and websites like TVTropes even have that as a whole feature

Ask for fic recs! Seriously! Post about it in the fandom's tumblr tag, join Discord communities, etc, and just say, "Hey, I'd love to read a story where... [insert the general themes, characters, or plot points you like". People will be EXCITED to share.

Search by specific tags Like, do you really, really love time loops? Search the 'Time Loop' tag in your favourite fandoms. A lot of specific tropes, AUs, etc. are canonized, so you can find a lot of stuff up your alley that way

Browse the most recently updated fics Yeah, I know, it's old school. But seriously, you can find some awesome stuff there-- including stories from new authors just starting out, who could really use a boost!

And hey... if you find some stories you like... Consider writing some fic recommendation lists of your own. Spread the love!

#fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #fandom

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

Am I the Asshole for taking my SIL to an anime convention?

My (42M) SIL (29F) has autism and was living with my MIL until she suddenly passed away from heart failure back in 2022. My wife (40F) and I both knew SIL likes to cosplay and go to conventions. Figuring that’s something she and MIL did together, I decided to tell her I want to take her to an anime convention the following year. We chose one that worked out for all of us, timeline wise, along with the costs of transportation, hotel, etc.

Now, this may be a controversial opinion, but I hate anime; nearly all of it is hypersexualized (aside from one, which I’ll get into in a moment). It makes me cringe that my oldest daughter (13F) loves anime, and that that’s all she ever wants to watch. Personally, I feel she’s getting too old for cartoons, but since I also have two younger children, I let it slide.

Prior to actually leaving for con, SIL had sent emails of videos and blogs all about attending anime conventions. Clearly eager to prepare us. She also had outbursts over all sorts of things and lashed out at us on multiple occasions; her emails were often filled with negativity, and simmering rage. In between all of this, we had her relocate to an apartment closer to us.

Anyway, SIL, my daughter, and I go to the airport, we get to the hotel and check-in. We explored the city for a few hours. Now, before all of this, SIL claims she has a “low heat tolerance”, and complained the entire time whenever we walked from Point A to Point B; yes, the city the con was at has good transit and yes I insisted we walk anyway. It’s good exercise! This led to her throwing a fit when we reached a museum I really wanted to check out. We took an Uber back to the hotel and I don’t hear from her again until the next day when we met up to have lunch.

She’s cosplaying a character I don’t recognize and doesn’t tell me anything about them when I asked; it was clearly supposed to be a boy character, though.

Next day, I got a text from SIL; she unexpectedly got her period. Great. Since she asked, I run and get her some pads, only to have to wait an hour in line. Also great. She’s cosplaying another character I don’t recognize. Some magical creature or a doll of some kind. Anyway, us three go into one of the viewing rooms to screen this anime SIL was insistent on showing us. Some Sherlock thing. My daughter likes it, and I’ll admit, I enjoyed it too; I think it is very kid friendly.

Last day, once again, I don’t see or hear from SIL until we meet up in the hotel lobby waiting for our ride to the airport. Seems she had a good time though. She was dressed as one of the kids from that hero anime my daughter likes. She also bought my daughter an axolotl plush (her favorite animal). Going through security was hell; SIL had the nerve to have an attitude the whole time (again later claiming she was overheated and cranky from her period). After we got home she claimed she was never traveling anywhere with me again.

In the days following, she returned the luggage my wife had leant her, having booby trapped it with a photo with the glass broken. Then informs me that her account was overdrawn (I would have gladly paid for more than I did, if she hadn’t been so bitchy).

When we went to her apartment to discuss this, she made the same claims: that she was tired and cranky from the heat, made worse from her period, that I was stressing her out half the time, but that she was grateful despite that because when her mom died, anime conventions were the first thing she was ready to give up.

She also claimed the photo she broke was taken the same year she first attempted to take her own life, and that triggered a panic attack on top of the meltdown she had after returning home.

And the kicker: apparently her mother barely spent any time at conventions, and only sometimes tagged along because she “wanted a vacation”.

Now she claims that I -I repeat I- ruined that Sherlock anime for her. And now is planning to attend a few more cons…Alone.

So what say you? Am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 4 months

Text

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst fic #twst fanfic #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #rexii writes twst #rexii writes

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shattered-system · 3 months

Text

The “Redefinition” of Systempunk

Updated version!

We're not typically an essay kind of blog, but there's something l've been turning over in my mind since l've seen it.

I have the post pulled up now actually, and about 11 hours ago @/the-alarm-system "recoined" (stole) the term systempunk in a long post, as well as designed a flag with its own meaning and I want to sort through some of it.

I also have a few personal pet peeves about their flag design, given that it's color palette clashes and the flag is way too busy. I don't expect it to spread far given that it violates several rules of good design (saying this as someone who has been to school for graphic design.)

I will not post it here, because I don't care to spread it any more than this post already may.

Their flag slightly predates my own version of the systempunk flag, but given that theirs was created for a separate concept with a stolen name, I maintain that we were the first.

We begin with their definition of systempunk.

“A term or Subculture surrounding the liberation of plurals and the critique of psychiatry."

First issue lies here. Both the destigmitization of dissociative disorders and critique of the psych field are extremely important discussions to have!

But they are separate discussions. There is absolutely overlap, but combining the two here is kind of shooting yourself in the foot, because then the conversation in that tag will be disorganized.

Have a systempunk movement AND an anti-psych or psych-critical movement. That way people can easily find the relevant discussions and terms.

This is followed up with a bit about the harm the psychiatric field has caused (not delving into that as that's not what this blog is about) and then circle back onto "the future is plural."

This is not one of the instances where OP means it in the "the future is destigmitization" sense, as they are pro endo. (On a side note, even ignoring the endo use of the phrase-- if I need to read about a slogan to understand the meaning of the slogan, it's a bad slogan. The point of a slogan is to communicate a concept quickly.)

The flag has black and brown stripes akin to the progress flag to represent systems of color, which is the only part of the design we have no critique for, but are describing anyway just as a bit of information.

The purple stripe stands for:

“Endo solidarity... endogenic systems are continuously harmed by antis who remain uncritical of psychiatry."

Once again, we are mixing two expansive concepts into one term.

The term anti-endo doesn't imply a position one way or the other on the psychiatry discussion.

Some anti-endos swear by the DSM5, others don't. Anti-endo is a term that means anti-endo/ endo-critical. That is all it means.

There is a difference between holding the DSM as the complete authority on mental illness and saying that a trauma disorder is caused by trauma.

I'm not sure if OP knows that and is choosing to cast anti-endos in a bad light, or legitimately confused. However, OP is a syscourse blog who is on a lot of blocklists and is spammy in the tags, and has likely been blocked by anyone who isn't also out looking to pick immature fights. (This is a system who made a post in all caps calling for an endo raid on #systempunk.)

Continuing directly from the last quote:

“[Antis] are against the liberation of plurals and deny a plural future in order to push singlethood onto others."

It's possible OP is referring to final fusion, which the anti-endo community is not a monolith on either. Most people we've interacted with are supporters of functional multiplicity (including ourselves.)

Most likely however, they mean that anti-endos "push singlethood" by telling endogenics that they can't have a trauma disorder without trauma.

And I could go into a whole tirade about that, but dozens of systems have done it before and I doubt any pro-endos have gotten this far. I am writing this for the anti-endo and on-the-fence audiences.

Visit @antimisinfo's helpful masterpost for a list of legitimate sources.

OP seems to believe that by “forcing” this singlethood, we are contributing directly to the oppression of systems. Hypocritically, OP themselves are contributing directly to the oppression of trauma victims.

Endogenics are not part of the "diverse experiences of plurality” (we are diverse, but united in origin) given that they don't exist. And if they did, they would have such a fundamentally different experience than trauma-formed systems that both groups would need separate language and tags to have space to themselves.

And endos already have a well-established punk tag for themselves. It seems they won't be happy until they chase trauma victims out of every space they create for themselves and steal every term. They've already stolen even the medical terminology used for CDDs.

The yellow stripe of the flag is meant to represent those with actual CDDs. Once again, psych stuff is brought up. However, I do agree with OP that those who do not want final fusion should not be pushed into it.

The pink and white stripes of the flag are entirely dedicated to anti-psych points. I think this would do wonderfully on it's own flag. But bringing the large range of discussion the anti-psych movement encompasses and the large range of discussion the CDD community has into the same tags is going to make it monumentally difficult to find the conversations you're wanting to have, and weaken both communities considerably.

There is a line of barbed wire across the flag that is partially for the same anti-psych movement as well as in favor of protecting and defending endogenic "identities." The ampersand stands for plurality.

There are fangs on the flag as well, encouraging systems to be loud and proud about their existence. And I agree that systems should make themselves known. However, endogenic systems don't exist, and their promotion will continue to drag us down.

I have read testimonies about traumagenic (real) systems being fakeclaimed or denied treatment by healthcare experts who, through exposure to endos, came to the conclusion CDDs are fake entirely.

Real systems seeking treatment and help after a lifetime of horrific abuse are being denied care.

Not to mention the setback of social acceptance by endos.

“Force plural liberation down the throats of others. Force the future to be plural."

#shatteredsys #systempunk #syspunk #system punk #traumagenic system #did osdd #cdd community #did system #osddid community #cdd system #system stuff #sysblr #osdd #osddid #endos dni #actually dissociative #actually did

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stomach-bugg09 · 2 years

Note

uhhhh can i please request a sully! reader fic wherein she’s lo’ak’s twin and is so so much like jake that although neytiri wouldnt admit it (shes her favorite) but shes also smart like her uncle tommy and brave like her late uncle tsu’tey? i just want more platonic and familial sully family love 🥹 basically just her life and the people she’s impacted, maybe she almost dies bc come on lets give neteyam a break 😭 and her family’s reactions + her recovering 🙏🙏🙏🙏

sully family x lo’akstwin!reader

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

a/n: so, first of all, thank you so much for the request!! second of all, this is so cute and def right up my ally. i decided that, just bc it's generally broad, i’d format it as a head canon so i can continue to test my horizons with writing. hopefully i do your req justice!! feedback is always appreciated. (p.s... please send in requests 🙏🙏 i need the inspo)

you were a sully, and sullys stick together

lo'ak's twin headcanons

being lo’ak’s (older) twin, there’d always been some sort of… fued, if you will, between the two of you. of course, it was light hearted—most of the time.

you’d always try and one-up each other, watching each other’s (extremely dangerous) antics and deciding that the next best idea was to perform something even riskier. let's just say, the two of you liked to keep neytiri and jake on their toes.

because of your quite idiotic decisions, both of your parents, although it was usually more jake than neytiri, felt like they were constantly scolding the two of you. together.

and don't even get me started on poor neteyam, always trying to take the blame from you two. man, he is tired. can't you just be.. i don’t know, smart for once? (the answer is no)

but, one thing that neytiri and jake constantly talk to each other about is the reason you and lo'ak are hazards to yourself and to others is all because of jake. you are just too goddamn alike — dangerously so!

as a result of the two of you being a constant reminder of his own problematic personality, he is harsher on the two of you than he intends.

he’s just scared of you getting hurt.

neytiri almost always reprimands her mate for yelling at the two of you, but she also knows exactly where he’s coming from. she’s been on the front lines of jake’s stupidity for years, so she’s all too familiar with the dangers it brings

but, joke as they might about how dumb you are when it comes to risking your life just to one-up your twin, a small sentimental part of jake notices how goddamn smart you are. not only is your daring personality similar to himself, your intelligence is uncanny to his own twin.

every day he’s reminded of tommy — as you sit next to him with a map, helping him plan the escape route if a raid goes wrong, as you converse with norm, as you examine every living creature that wanders the forest… all of it is a reminder of the brother he once cherished, and that just makes you even more valuable to keep safe (from other threats, but mostly from yourself + lo’ak)

sometimes, when you’re sitting with your father and discussing the best way to approach or escape a raid, neytiri will be sitting nearby, doing her own duties. she always has at least one ear open to listen, and as she hears the alarmingly mature and smart words that leave your mouth, she swells with pride. she may deny it forever and ever, but a part of her favors you because of.. well, everything in all honesty. you're a brave young woman who knows exactly how to speak for herself, what's there not to like?

on occasion, when you aren’t grounded for doing something dumb, neytiri will take you on hunts. the two of you bond, and it is just adorable because mother-daughter bonding is where it's at.

and do not forget how brave you are. oh my god, how is it even possible that you jump towards danger. you would put your life on the line for your siblings, and you would do it again and again. in that, neytiri is reminded of tsu’tey, another piece of pride being sewn into her soul.

now… what happens when you guys have to leave?

well, first of all, let's acknowledge the fact that yes, you did join neteyam and lo’ak to flying from your spots on patrol and into the raid. why’d you do it? lo’ak said he was. it was a no-brainer.

secondly! yes, you were extremely proud when lo’ak flipped the avatars off after they captured you. and you most definitely bit the one that held you when it was your time to escape. and then maybe you hit him over the head with a gun on the forest floor. (you couldn't do anything after that — kiri grabbed you before you could.)

now, when you got word from your parents that you would be leaving… you were not happy. like, at all. you were actually quite pissed, if anything.

the forest was your home. weren’t you just giving the sky-people even more satisfaction by allowing them to drive you from your home?

but, alas, you were eventually able to tone down your stubbornness and actually understand your parents’ point. you were in danger, and that meant having to sacrifice comfort for the lives of you and your siblings.

so, off you went.

by the time you reached the metkayina tribe, your ass was so extremely sore from riding your ikran all that ways. and your legs were so very stiff. do not recommend!!

oh, and the way that that metkayina boy eyed your apparent “freak-like attributes,” that had you set off pretty quickly. kiri had to grab your wrist before you thought to say or do anything.

the pride you felt when your mother stood her ground… of how we love neytiri. an absolute boss.

but, all in all, you could stay. so.. you did. and even you had to admit, the water was gorgeous, even if swimming was the worst form of cardio.

you were quicker to learning the metkayina ways than your twin was, so that was gratifying of course. but, you also knew it wasn’t all that easy learning to breathe when he was head over heels for the girl teaching him (a fact that you definitely did not miss… and you most definitely teased him for it)

now, of course when it gets the point in with ao’nung being an absolute bitch ass to your sister… oh yeah you wouldn't let that slide. unfortunately, you came to scene a tad late, so you only witnessed the ends of the fight. that didn't keep you from smiling with pride at your two brothers who annihilated a group of.. what? four? five? it's hard to say, but they still somehow “won?”

and do NOT get me started on when you and neteyam found out what ao’nung did to lo’ak. you almost murdered a bitch. thank the lord lo’ak ended up being okay, because otherwise ao’nung would have been dead.

you were skeptical at first when lo’ak told your group about payakan. but, based on your deep rooted knowledge of each other, it didn't take long for you to realize he was telling the truth.

so, when it came the time post sky-people’s arrival, you were completely on-board to join lo’ak to warn the whale.

you, of course, tried your hardest to remove the tracker, but you were also an unfortunate victim of yet another kid-napping.

by the time neteyam saved you, lo’ak, tsireya, and tuk (who clung closely to you as soon as you were released), you and lo’ak were fully aware of spider’s presence on the ship

while you weren't really looking to save the human boy, you knew, morally, you would feel better if you did… so, you left tuk to tsireya and joined the boys

you have a lot of battle intelligence just based from listening to your father speak and eavesdropping on the conversations he had when planning raids, so you helped neteyam lead the way.

unfortunately, by the time you all escaped, a bullet had pierced your shoulder. you could barely keep your head above the surface.

you barely even acknowledged as your brothers laid you on a rock, tears pouring down their cheeks as they attempted to not only reassure you, but reassure themselves.

you were losing blood quickly, but tsireya was quick. she knew exactly what to do, so she did it. neytiri and jake were barely functional as they watched the metkayina girl tend to your shoulder. but, as much as they wanted to, they could not stay. they had two other daughters kidnapped by quaritch.

so, as they went to save their girls, tsireya kept your from bleeding out (temporarily) before rushing the two of you on her ilu back to her mother.

the recovery process was long but sweet. every member of your family was overjoyed when you woke up and ended up being alive and okay. lots of tears were shed.

they were quick to help you recover to your full abilities, and they were more excited than you were everytime that you reached a new achievement. getting out of bed was apparently something to be proud of.

but, all in all, you were a sully, and sullys stick together.

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #tuk sully #tuktirey #kiri sully #loak sully #sully family #sully family x y/n #sully siblings x reader #sully family x reader #lo'ak x twin!reader #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #sully!reader

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sigynpenniman · 8 months

Text

DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING TO FIND AO3 BLOCKED ON YOUR WORK OR SCHOOL WIFI?

So, something has happened overnight.

Many major companies and institutions use a tech called Cisco Umbrella to block “potentially objectionable” domains - porn, violent content, etc. Cisco Umbrella primarily works using categories, which, while changable by users, are pre-set by Cisco. So Cisco builds a list of websites which are, for example, "adult," and then makes that a category that a company can block all at once from its network. When you, as a network admin, choose to block "adult" websites in cisco umbrella, if you don't make changes to that list yourself, everything in that list is blocked on the domain.

There's another system called OpenDNS. OpenDNS allows you to block websites on your *home* network. If you have an OpenDNS account you can also participate in what's called "community tagging." community tagging allows people to tag certain websites, and I guess if you use OpenDNS you can block things with those tags...idk, I don't use it.

Here's the bit that matters: OpenDNS and Cisco Umbrella are owned by the same company. It appears that Cisco Umbrella, to some extent, uses OpenDNS community tags to sort websites.

Someone on OpenDNS has community tagged Ao3 as a "tasteless" website. Community tags can be proposed by anyone, but they have to be approved by a moderator. It seems a moderator has approved this tag. Because of the moderator approved tag, it looks like Ao3 has been bundled into *Cisco Umbrella's* blocked sites list for "adult" content. So now, any library, school, business, etc which is blocking Cisco Umbrella’s “adult” category is now blocking Ao3.

Here’s how you can help.

Go here (https://signup.opendns.com/homefree/) to create an OpenDNS account. This is free. Don’t do any of the steps to create or configure a network, JUST make an account. Be sure to uncheck any promotional checkboxes. Once your account is made, be sure to confirm your email, and the confirmation may go into spam - mind did, just be aware. Once you have an account made, go to https://login.opendns.com/ and log in with the account you've made.

It should take you here.

From here, click the small "community" button at the top.

It will bring you here. You will be likely prompted to create a display name. Pick something random, you won't need it again.

Click on “domain tagging." It will bring you here.

There's a small searchbox in the top right labeled "check a domain." enter archiveofourown.org in this field and hit go. You should be brought here.

What you want to do now is hit the "Flag for Review" button under "Tagged: Tasteless." Don't worry about the other tags. They are candidate tags, not approved/applied and aren't doing anything. The "tasteless" one that's been mod approved is the only one we're worried about. "Flag for review" will open a small text box.

Type in whatever you like here, but PLEASE be academic and respectful. Focus on how "tasteless" is an inaccurate and offensive description for the content. Hit submit.

That's it, you're done.

I do want to be clear about one thing - I am not 100% sure this is going to remove this domain from the cisco adult list, but I'm hoping. The “tasteless” tag that is present on OpenDNS was submitted in 2015. Now, it is not clear when the moderator approved this tag. They may have approved it last night, or in 2015. That date does not appear to be visible. I’m not sure what happened overnight that caused Ao3 to slip into the Cisco umbrella adult category. My best guess is that either the tag was approved last night, or Cisco suddenly started grouping the “tasteless” community tag under adult. It is interesting to me that previous tags such as pornography have been actively mod rejected, so it looks like this one being approved might have been one person with a vendetta. Either way, right now, this seems to be the root of the issue. Domains can be individually allowed on networks by network admins, so if you have to petition your school or place of work it's possible, but I think if we can fix the OpenDNS tag, we can fix it everywhere at once. Hopefully, if we can get enough flags for review in a short enough period of time, it will force them to review it.

Come, help me out here. Let's try and get Ao3 unblocked on the country's schools and libraries.

#writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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nsharks · 2 years

Text

buckshot | simon “ghost” riley

words: 2.4k

plot: simon teaches you how to use a shotgun so you can protect the family while he’s gone.

tags: mostly fluff, dad simon, a small touch of smut, lots of gun talk, fem!reader

a/n: I am not pro-guns at all this is just a fic. also based on my research shotguns and hunting rifles are the only guns you can own in the uk.

“Why the hell not?”

Simon is standing in the doorway of your bathroom, arms crossed and his mask off as he watches you brush your hair.

Sharing a home with him, and now a baby with him, has made Simon the most protective person you’d ever met. Perhaps even more so in the past few months he’d been home since the birth of your son. He refused to let you do anything but rest and nurse for the first month. He’d wake up multiple times during the night just to check the locks on all the doors, and recheck them, and then check up on the baby’s room, as if someone could have snuck in and swept him away.

You’re paranoid, Simon, you’d told him a couple times. Groggy and woken up again by his nightly patrol. Sometimes you even caught him just sitting in the living room at ridiculous hours; he claimed that it was due to a bad dream, but you suspected he was trying to take “watch” while his family slept.

“Because, Simon,” you say in exasperation, seeing his irritated reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t like guns. Why would I want to shoot them?”

Simon always kept a shotgun hidden in the house.

You’d known that he had the license for it since before you. He even made you get licensed a couple years ago (in case of emergencies, he’d said). But you weren’t a fan of that sort of thing, and he hadn’t insisted on you actually using one until now.

“You don’t have to fuckin’ like them. You just have to know how to use one,” Simon says tersely. He runs a hand through his hair, an action he does only when he’s maskless around you. Even after all these years, it’s still a shocking sight to see him without the skull painted over his appearance.

Skull or not, he’s intimidating.

You don’t share his worries about your and the baby’s safety. Not when you’ve got him to scare people off.

“I really don’t want to,” you sigh, setting the brush down. Your voice is soft and careful, not wanting to fight him over something so ridiculous, especially when you’ve seen how paranoid he’s grown.

In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him with your hands placed on his bare chest, the strain of his muscles softening only slightly under your touch. It takes him a moment before his arms slide around your waist.

“Y/N,” he breathes out through his nostrils and leans over to touch his forehead to yours. “I’m… leavin’ soon. Next week. You’re not going to have me here in case… in case shit happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” you tell him in a whisper. “Not to me, not to our son.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, the notch in his throat presses against his skin as he swallows.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Can you just do this for me?” His forehead slides down to the dip in your neck, breathing in your neck like he always does, and his voice has turned hoarse. “I need to… keep you safe. Have to.”

You’ve only ever heard the story about his family and his little nephew once or twice. It’s not something you could bare thinking about when your son slept just meters away, but it crosses your mind.

Maybe Simon has a point.

It took him so long to feel safe, worthy, of growing this family with you.

You can only imagine the fear he must feel. How much responsibility he feels to make sure your fate doesn’t end up like the rest of his family members.

Hands moving to the expanse of his back, you melt into him and finally give in. “Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, okay. Show me how to use a gun, Simon.”

_____

You both feel awful saying goodbye to your son for the day.

It’s the first time you’ve asked for a nanny. Simon preformed his own “background check” on each name you listed off to him, names that had been mentioned to you by friends or family. After his thorough research, you had finally settled on someone to watch the baby while the two of you went on your “hunting” trip.

“I think he will miss you the most,” you’d pouted, watching Simon hold your son before you left.

The baby looked so small in his arms; even at three months old, Simon’s hand could cover the entirety of his little back.

“No way, love,” Simon gave a small kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You’re the one feedin’ him. He’s gonna miss the fresh meals more than his dad today.”

Now, not at home with the baby for the first time since his entrance in your lives, Simon is driving you down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. You have been awfully quiet the whole ride, equally as hesitant about the new babysitter as you are about what your husband is dragging you out here to do.

You know what he does. You’ve known perfectly well what Simon is infamous for, what his nickname is, and the long list of names of the people who have died at his hands. You’re okay with it since you never have to see it, because when it comes to violence, you are nothing like your husband. You used to catch Simon practically smirking when a gory or violent scene would come on in a movie. Meanwhile, you’d bury your gaze in his chest and grimace.

Don’t worry, pet, they’re not even showing it accurately, he’d tell you, as if that would help.

The place he stops at is a wooded area where the dirt road starts to dissipate into tall grasses. He claims to know the property’s owner so it’s fine for you to be there. He’s instructed you to wear long pants and comfy shoes for the occasion. For himself, he’s opted for black cargo pants and his painted balaclava.

“C’mon,” he says, stopping the car and eagerly getting the shotgun he brought out of the trunk.

You follow him into the woods. Something about his confidence indicates that he’s been here before, but you’ve never known him to hunt animals, especially with what his father used to do with them.

“We’re not… we’re not killing anything, right?” you ask when he finally stops walking. There’s nothing but tall trees around you and the occasional bird or squirrel causing you to flinch in surprise.

Simon’s too busy loading the gun to look at you.

“No.”

Something about his voice is different than the Simon you know. Concentrating intently, he closes the shotgun and then reaches for your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Take it,” he says huskily. Your fingers outstretch to wrap around the gun and take it from his hold. It feels… heavier than you anticipated and your grasp is awkward, the butt of it pressing into your chest.

“Well, not like that,” you can almost hear the amusement in his voice, but then it sobers, deepening with a tone of command. “Place this hand on the stock wrist.”

He’s behind your body, closely pressed against you so he can maneuver your hands where he wants them. You’re trying your best to focus since this is a serious situation, a loaded gun in your hands, but it’s hard not to feel the satisfying warmth emitted from his chest.

Once Simon seems satisfied, he asks you, “How does it feel?”

“Heavy,” you admit.

“Let’s fix your stance,” he instructs gruffly, “That should help.”

He uses his booted foot to tap against your feet, urging them further apart until they’re about shoulder-width. He shows you how to stand properly, how to bend your knees slightly and keep the gun high by your cheek as you hold it. He tells you to keep your feet planted to absorb the recoil. You’re doing your best to follow his instructions, feeling like one of his soldiers.

“Is this okay?” you ask, his hands dropping from yours so it’s only you now.

He takes a step back and inspects you with heavy eyes, the same eyes he drags over your naked body in bed. But this time, he’s not inspecting every detail of your bare skin and reveling in the beautiful sight of your curves and dips. Instead, he is inspecting the quality of your stance as you hold a weapon, and you try your best to appear confident under your husband’s experienced gaze.

“Good girl,” he finally says. The praise makes you shudder. “You’ve got a solid stance.”

“Can I shoot it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He shakes his head and leaves you to grab his backpack. He pulls out a couple of empty bottles.

“Point it at the ground, love,” he orders before he steps in front of you. You obey, lowering your aim and being mindful not to shoot him as he places the bottles on a fallen tree in front of you.

Once he’s out of the way, back by your side and wrapping his arm around your waist, you lift the shotgun back to the position he has showed you. His hot breath floods through his mask and tickles your neck.

“There’s a safety lock on it,” he mutters lowly, pointing to a little switch next to the trigger. “You need to move it if you want to shoot.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks flushing from the sound of his voice. “Should I unlock it now?”

“Go ahead,” Simon says, “The gun in the house is loaded. You just have to unlock it if you ever need it”

There’s something about the way Simon’s powerful presence envelops you that makes your head feel fuzzy. It’s time to shoot now, but your heart is thumping wildly and you can’t help but lean into him.

“Can you… can you shoot it with me? For the first one?”

“Just the first one,” he warns, but is already placing his hands over yours, touch warm and strong and reassuring. There is always safety to be found in his touch. “Don’t worry so much about aim, alright? These aren’t regular slugs. They’re buckshot’s.”

You blink. “What?”

“They have a bunch of little pellets, not a single projectile. It’ll be easier for you.”

Although you are wildly out of your element, he is comfortably in his. You’re almost certain this isn’t even the kind of gun he uses in the field, but still, it is a language he is readily able to speak no matter the weapon.

“Finger on the trigger,” he murmurs in your ear.

Your finger finds the curve of the trigger, his finger following yours so you’re not pressing it on your own. There’s not another second for you to hesitate before he’s shooting it for you, bringing your finger down with his. The shot rings out. Echoes among the wilderness along with the sound the shattering bottle.

The recoil presses you further into his hold, but he keeps a firm grip on you, taking most of it in himself.

“I’ve got ya,” he assures you, noticing the wideness of your eyes. “That was good. You did good.“

“Oh, wow,” you sputter. The strength of it, the feeling of its power beneath your gentle hands, is not what you imagined. You wonder what it feels like to have this frightening kind of rush all the time. How it must feel to watch a body take the bullet rather than a bottle.

“On your own now,” Simon huffs.

The warmth and security of his touch is lost when he steps away and leaves the gun in your hands. The weight causes your hands to falter, but you repeat everything he’s told you in your head and adjust your grip. You want to show him you can handle yourself. Ease his worries with the assurance that you’re not weak and incapable whenever he’s gone.

But you hesitate.

Swallowing, you take your eyes off the next bottle to look at him for help. “Simon, I can’t-“

“Hey, hey.” The command in his voice remains, firm yet gentle. “Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“But… but I’m not you.”

“You don’t have to be me to shoot a shotgun.” His eyes catch yours and he gives a small nod of encouragement. “It’s just for protection, yeah? Not trying to turn you into a soldier.”

With the small encouragement, your finger returns to the trigger. You widen your stance a little. Keep the gun’s stock up by your cheek. You feel his eyes watching you carefully, but for just a moment, you pretend Simon isn’t there. Because the truth is, he’s not there all the time. There are stretches of time when the only person you, and now your son, have to rely on is you, and that’s not a responsibility you take lightly.

You shoot the gun and the next bottle shatters.

The strong recoil causes your feet to dig into the dirt and your body shudders.

“Christ, nice shot,” you hear Simon say over your steady breathing. You lower the gun and beam at him, the rush from the shot filling you with confidence.

“Thanks to you, lieutenant.”

_____

Practicing until all the bottles are broken leaves you with a sense of adrenaline that Simon assures you he knows how to soothe. The sun starts to set as he gets you back to the car, but once you’re inside, he’s pulling you onto his lap and attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans against your skin and anxiously peels off your top, your pants, every piece of fabric that gets in his way. He kisses the marks that pregnancy has left behind, always supplying them with adoration. His skin is hot to the touch, just as consuming as it had been during his teachings, and when he starts moaning into your neck about how fucking hot you are, you wonder if seeing you shoot a gun is the cause of the wild lust in his voice.

“Got to reward you,” he hums low, giving you his fingers just how he knows you like them. “You were such a good girl for me.”

When you’re back home that night, finally leaving after his reward in the car, Simon is the one to put the baby to bed. Then, he joins you in your room, slipping his warm body under the blankets beside you, and sleeping through the night for the first time in months. He thinks, maybe, now he won’t be quite as worried when he has to leave you both next week.

——

a/n: ok I promise simon picked up all the glass and threw it away somewhere because he’s not a litterer 👍🏻 also I don’t like any kind of gun at all and I’d prefer if they didn’t exist but I can understand why someone like simon would feel safer with one in his house given his past

#simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #fluff #cod #tw gun

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