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qwimchii · 8 months

Note

i was hoping to put forward a request, if that’s okay? 👉🏻👈🏻 angst (or hurt/comfort?) and smut with ghost? and i’m totally not projecting here but — reader has a hard time finishing, either by themselves or with someone? and when they’re with someone, they get so worried about taking too long and not being able to finish or even feeling good and they apologize for taking too long and it dissolves into them crying and apologizing more and mentioning how they think they’re broken and there’s something wrong with them and it kinda makes them think ghost will leave for someone else because that’s what everyone else has done and basically just ghost being soft and sweet and understanding and taking his time with reassurance and praise and yeah… gonna go hide now 🥲

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

note: omllllll!!!! 💞 i am so sorry for taking so long to write this request but this is so sweet and cute 😭 thank you sm for requesting!! ><

pt 2, pt 3

Simon Riley had been your boyfriend for maybe a month now. or maybe two weeks. or maybe three months, you decided finally, sipping your water with closed eyes, willing the frustrated bounce of your knee to settle.

of course, picking your head up and looking at the entrance of the restaurant one last time, that frustration redoubled, and you watched your knee bounce with a mind of its own.

setting the drink back on its coaster, you drew random patterns into the floral tablecloth with a pout. Simon had chosen this restaurant. Simon had initiated communication with you—mindblowing as it was—just last night when you were scrolling through instagram in bed.

the notification had ballooned over a post of an old friend from college traveling in europe, and immediately, you had squealed, pressing your phone to your chest to stop the race of your thrumming heart. you made yourself count out two minutes—at least two, before you responded.

— Dinner tmrw at the diner on 6th ave?

— sure!! good to hear from you :))

— what time??

— 7.

it was curt, it was short, it was sweet, but it gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the day and weasel your way into the diner, earlier to the occasion than usual. now, it was half past seven. now, you were playing with the tablecloth of the booth and feeling stupid and sorry for yourself.

stupid because you had sorely missed Simon since he went radio silent for over a month. sorry for yourself because you had thought you were at least close enough for him to text you beforehand.

definitively, you knew you had met the brit five months ago when he moved into the empty apartment adjacent to your own. he crowded every entrance he stood in, so massive and hulking when the elevator doors that you startled with a squeak, dropping the cardboard box and all the items scattering out over the carpet floor.

you had flushed with embarrassment, whole body heating up as you scrambled to stuff all the items back into the box with a string of apologies. he had dropped to your side without a word, putting back a pair of socks, your old band t-shirt from high school, and tennis shoes that had gone gray with discoloration. he hadn’t even bothered to one-over your personal items, but you were scrambling for an explanation anyway.

“donations for vets,” you said with nervous laughter. “i donate every year.”

“vets?” he reiterated, and you looked up into his face, eyeing the black surgical mask on his face carefully, brown eyes a murky kind of gray-ish beneath blonde eyebrows and his hood drawn up above that.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, suddenly wary of the stranger in front of you.

when he said nothing more, you asked him, “any veterans in the family?”

then he just stared at you and you blushed, feeling stupid for saying anything at all but—

“my grandfather,” he said slowly. “and my great grandfather.”

“nice,” you choked out, unsure what to say as you searched the carpet of the last of your remnants.

then, he added, “i’m in the military as well.”

just when you were about to bolt, intimidated by the sheer size of him and his eerie unfamiliar presence in your apartment complex, it was like he read your mind to introduce himself.

“Simon Riley. new neighbor.”

you nodded slowly, giving him your name back and edging your fingers under the cardboard box, heaving it up into your arms.

“nice to meet you,” you said, giving him a weak smile from over the top of the box. he tilted his head at you, eyes flitting from the box to you.

when a prolonged silence ensued, you turned on your heel and stepped toward the elevator before you jerked around again.

“thank you for your service,” you squeaked, scurrying toward the elevator and feeling awkward when he just watched you from the hallway. you waved as the doors closed, watching him slip his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

with one long look, he turned and prowled down the hallway.

that was five months ago. two months later, after endless awkward encounters of wordless greetings with him, the plumbing in your bathroom sink had exploded, flooding the floor in a puddle of water and spraying over the front of your white dress.

in a panic, you went to your next door neighbor Simon who opened the door upon your third set of rapid knocks.

you looked up to his massive form in the entrance, suddenly aware of how the front of your soaked dress had become sheer when you asked him to help you.

he helped. and then you asked him to get drinks at the bar around the corner as a thank you. then when that became a regular occurrence, things just got more confusing.

it felt exclusive. maybe. you thought it felt exclusive when a man approached you in the bar, gearing up for a casual conversation with a sly smirk, but Simon was always at your back in an instant, a large, warm hand on your waist and his words in your ear.

she’s taken.

your mind spun after the first time it happened. taken?

whirling around on your heel after the man left with a low grumble and scowl, Simon just blinked down at you from behind his surgical mask, squeezing your waist with both hands before he was sinking back down into his seat, hulking as he leaned over the bar.

when the same happened a few more times, you didn’t question it, thinking it was maybe just a perk of the friendship. he staves off a couple creepy men at the bar and you pay for drinks.

or at least that’s how you thought it worked until he started sliding his card across the counter to the bartender to claim the tab before you could even get a word out.

you were especially confused when he knocked at your apartment door one night. you opened it to find him void of the hoodie usually slung up and over his head, blonde hair hanging down his forehead, and a black shirt in its place. that’s when you saw the thick black ink winding down the tattoo sleeve of his arm, and your eyes darted over it with a blush, before you were inviting him in.

he had smelled something baking, he clarified, craning his neck into the kitchen. that made you giddy because you hadn’t taken him for someone nosy, but you entertained it nonetheless, assuming he just had an insatiable sweet tooth for cookies.

another part of you hoped he just had a sweet tooth for you.

then the baking became a regular occurrence. you’d bake him all sorts of sweets while he watched you from the little table in your kitchen, staring from behind that black mask of his while you prattled about your day and he took it all in silently. somewhere along the way, after so many nights of him chewing behind the mask, he ditched it completely, and you could watch him devour your brownies in a few bites without the annoying fabric in the way.

the new schedule had become very regular until it was baking night and he didn’t show up to your door. rolling the tenseness from your shoulders, you sent him a quick text, saying you would bring over the sweets in the morning to his apartment.

when he didn’t respond to that, a little nervous bubble of anxiety rooted in your chest. you found out from your landlord days later that Simon would be away for work, and that hurt more than you wanted it to. if he had taken the time to at least notify your landlord, he could’ve done the same for you… couldn’t he?

unless he didn’t think about you that way. but you were so sure—from the quick glances you shared, his gentle touches as he brushed past you in your kitchen, or the possessive grip on your waist at the bar, or just the way he was so relaxed around you meant something.

those were your thoughts that ran in circles as you sat at the diner booth. the waiter checked on your table every once and a while, sending you nervous glances ever since you said that you had a date… or a friend. or something like that.

you felt stupid for accepting Simon’s proposal so quickly, even after he had ghosted you for weeks. even then, you had dolled yourself up anyways, picking out the new dress you got last weekend and doing your hair and makeup. you buried your face in your hands, not looking up when you heard the chime of the diner opening.

when you heard a familiar, low and grating accent, your head snapped up to see Simon standing by the entrance and talking to the waiter, gesturing to you as the waiter just nodded.

Simon strode over to you, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and dressed in his military fatigues, half his face behind in a black surgical mask.

you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when you reached your senses, heart soaring as you scrambled to stand. your hands twitched against the table when he stopped in front of you, dropping his duffle bag to the floor.

had he come straight from the airport? for you? you felt like your mind was spinning, but you forced it to still, desperately not wanting to jump to any strange conclusions…

swallowing down your thoughts, you said slowly, “it’s been a while.”

looking up into his murky brown eyes had never been so comforting.

“it has,” he affirmed, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

for a long moment, you both just stood there in silence, staring at each other and unsure what to do.

eyes darting down to his torso, you could feel the warmth of his body in the close proximity, and you felt so tempted to just touch him.

you outstretched a hand to brush over his clothing, and when he didn’t move away, you pressed your knuckles into his abdomen, amazed to feel him solid and real. then you wrapped yourself around his torso, giving him a tight hug, cheek pressed against his strong chest.

immediately, he engulfed you, squeezing you back.

“missed you,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt his nose press into the crown of your hair. “m’sorry m’late, love.”

“s’fine,” you sniffled, feeling stupid when tears pricked up in your eyes. when you pulled back, you swiped at them with the back of your hand, startled when he reached forward to brush his fingers across your wet cheeks, squishing the chub of your face lightly.

he looked at you with such a softness that you almost melted, feeling nervous because you had never seen him look at you like that before.

then, as you both slid into the booth, you chided him in between sniffles, “don’t do that to me again.”

don’t leave me in the dark again, was what you meant, and you knew he understood what you meant when he nodded curtly.

the dinner went smoothly. more than you could imagine. or maybe you were just overwhelmed with the exhausting joy that Simon was still just the same since before he left two months ago—lowly grunted non-verbal responses as he munched on a platter of fish and chips, stealing a couple of your fries after he devoured his plate at a startling pace, and some rumbles of half-sentences, leaning on his elbow as he watched you ramble with excitement and sip on your milkshake every now and then.

when you accidentally got a smidge of whipped cream on your nose, he reached across the table to wipe it off, cutting through your words mid-sentence. you thanked him with a blush, shifting over the booth, just blushing harder when your shoes knocked against his under the table.

leaving felt smooth too—walking back to the apartment complex just a couple blocks away. even in the darkness of the night, you felt safe tucked near his side, enjoying his presence so close to your side and feeling disappointed when you reached the hallway you shared in the apartment complex.

he stopped by your door and you fumbled with your dress, struggling for words.

“come inside,” you offered, though it sounded more like a plea. your eyes flitted from his face to the duffle bag on his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress.

“i know you must be tired but—”

“m’not,” he assured, squaring his shoulders. you nodded dumbly.

“i can bake brownies?” you squeaked, and he blinked down at you.

“s’reason why i’m here, love.”

at that you blushed, opening the apartment and throwing your jacket on the couch, moving to rifle through the kitchen.

“it won’t take long i promise,” you called from behind the fridge door, snatching the butter and eggs from it.

closing the door to turn to the counter, you jolted when Simon materialized beside you, boots, mask, and the jacket of his fatigues off, reaching above you to open a cabinet. your eyes darted over the ink designs of his muscled arm.

“flour and sugar’s here, right?” he asked, and you squeaked a yes, ducking beneath his arm to put the butter and eggs on the counter before grabbing a mixing bowl and baking pan from a lower cabinet.

once all the necessary items were strewn across the counter, you measured out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. beside you, Simon leaned back against the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he watched you.

you were hyper-aware of his presence, hands jittery, confused because he always sat at the kitchen table to watch you. he never got this close and personal, uncrossing his arms to slide a hand over the counter right by where your hip leaned against it.

from your peripheral, you glanced at him, finding him already staring down at you.

“can i help?” he asked, voice gruff, and you turned your head to stare at him in dismay. this was new. very new.

“sure,” you choked out, scooting over so he could help you measure out the ingredients. he filled the space easily, arm pressed against yours in the little space.

you blushed. this was very very new.

he cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, and you watched the yellow glop plop into the flour.

playing off the whole situation as a joke, you laughed nervously as you mixed the wet ingredients into the bowl. “miss my baking that much?”

you bit down on your lip, unable to look at him, just focusing on the churn of brown batter in the mixing bowl. when you felt him lean in, his strong bicep against yours, you muffled a yelp.

“‘course.”

“really?” you asked, pouring the batter into the greased up pan.

for good measure, you dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, eyes flickering up to Simon. it was sweet.

he stared down at you, an imperceptible, dark look on his face as he leaned over and dipped his thumb into the batter, then swiped the gooey brown substance over your cheek.

“oops.” there was a smugness in his voice that his face smothered, expression blank when he gripped your jaw tight.

you gasped when he turned your face and leaned down to lick you.

the textured muscle of his tongue pressed into the curve of your flesh, licking away the sweet taste from your cheek.

then, he leaned back with a hum. “i like sweet things.”

you clutched at his wrist keeping your jaw firmly in place, wide-eyed and heart beating out of your chest. you watched his finger dip back in the batter and reached up to your lips, spreading the sugary sweet batter over your lower lip.

you squeaked, unable to look anywhere but his bare face, rugged and handsome in the low light.

“may i?” he asked, eyes flitting down to your lips, and you couldn’t even nod in his hold, just a low, breathy yes on your lips that he swallowed, tongue sucking the traces of batter on your lips.

you whimpered into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as he angled your head with a soft touch, sliding his hand on your jaw to your neck, just resting there. that spurred on a familiar burn in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

when he leaned back, you were breathless and panting with flushed cheeks.

“sweet,” he rasped, like he was approving the taste as he licked over his lips.

from that point on, you didn’t really remember how you got to your bedroom, Simon’s hands edging up the hem of your dress beneath him, knuckles drawing a warm trail up to your hips as he sucked on the skin of your neck.

the only thing you could do was whine and squirm under his weight, legs and arms pinning you down as he did what he liked, giving you sweet kisses that made you feel all hazy.

you watched his head dip beneath the fabric of your dress and you gasped when you felt his lips against your thighs, skipping where you needed him most, and then against your stomach and the flesh of your breasts.

and all throughout the pleasurable haze, your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging into the bed because you were beyond nervous.

you knew this would happen eventually—that Simon would end up in your bed or the other way around. kissing him was a dream. having him caging you against the bed with his heady weight was a dream.

sliding a hand over his back, his rushed movements slowed against your skin, taking the time to suck carefully around your pebbled nipples that had your hips bucking up with a whimper.

your mind spun. but you were so nervous.

it was all you could think about as he descended back down between your thighs, both of his big arms curling around your thighs to lock you in place against the bed.

words rung your mind loud and clear—what the hell is wrong with you?

when Simon dipped a thumb beneath the top of your panties, the words shook you again.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you hadn’t even noticed how still and quiet you had grown until his head perked up between your thighs, pupils blown wide. he swiped a thumb over the soaking entrance of your panties, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice so throaty and rough that you shivered with want. you had wanted this for so long.

“nothing,” you whispered, tugging his head back down between your thighs, but he didn’t budge, frowning at you.

“tell me,” he probed, “m’not touchin’ you if you don’t, sweet thing.”

sweet thing.

swallowing hard, you shifted against the bed. “m’just nervous.”

“yeah?” he stroked the plush, soft skin of your inner thigh, before pressing his lips to it. “don’t worry. i’ll make you feel good.”

you nodded, biting down on your lip, though his words didn’t quell any of the raging anxiety thrumming within your chest, even when he kissed the wet fabric stretched over your cunt, nosing through your folds and his hot breath against you.

lifting up your hips with ease, he tugged a pillow beneath you.

“comfy?” he asked, hooking two fingers beneath your panties and sliding it down your thighs.

“uh-huh,” you gasped, back arching when he ducked between your legs and pressed the pink muscle of his tongue flat against your cunt.

“good,” he grunted against you, pecking your swollen clit before swirling his tongue around it, and building a steady, delicious pace that had you hiccuping moans.

your hands snaked through his hair, gripping the blonde curls tight and pulling, startling when he groaned in response, the tremors going straight from the back of his throat and into your clit.

you ground against his face and he purred in approval. “tha’s it, sweet thing.”

you took the pleasure and rode it, pushing yourself further and further to the edge, or at least you thought you were, seeing no end in sight for the sensations wracking your body. every passing moment felt too long, and you could practically feel the irritation roiling off Simon in waves.

even though you couldn’t see his face, just could hear his soft noises of approval against your cunt, it was like you knew he was growing impatient.

frustrated, you huffed a whine, that anxiety in your chest squashing half the pleasurable experience. he reached up and pressed down on the lower part of your tummy, intensifying it all over again, making you gasp as your head fell back.

“relax,” he mumbled, playing with your clit as he pressed his tongue into your cunt, humming as he tasted you.

it was overwhelming. too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the tears that pricked up in your eyes as you were torn between finishing and feeling good and pleasing Simon and—

a little sob broke from your throat, and he went still between your legs.

you covered your face with your hands, digging your palms into your eyes and muffled the sounds falling from your lips.

why were you crying?

brows pinched together, you scrunched up your face. “sorry, sorry, just keep going—”

you cut off when a sob choked your throat, refusing to look at Simon and withering when he stayed silent, feeling really fucking stupid as you just cried in the bed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimpered, feeling him tug your dress back down over your thighs and hike your panties back up your hips.

you expected him to leave, ready to feel the weight of him against you on the bed disappear, and his heavy footsteps through the apartment, then the slam of the door behind him.

and you did—the dip in the bed lifted and you heard his footsteps edge around the bed.

then, you gasped when he slid into the bed beside you, arm circling beneath your waist and pulling you flush to his chest, breath right against your ear.

“what’s wrong, sweet thing?” he sighed, though it didn’t sound irritated, just tired as he sunk into the bed beside you.

your breath stilled, the cries dying in your throat as you twisted to look back at him. his gaze was soft as he peered over your shoulder, squeezing you between both arms.

“what?” you croaked, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your cheek, squishing you into the bed.

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, thumb drawing circles against your clothed tummy.

“nothing,” you said, and he made a low noise of disapproval, pressing his face against the side of your head.

clutching at his arms holding your waist, caging you to him, you choked out the words.

“i just…” you turned your head from him, tears spilling from your eyes and onto the sheets. “i wanna be good for you.”

he hummed against your ear, squeezing you tighter. “you are so good for me, love.”

“no, i meant…” you huffed, sniffling with a frustrated sound in the back of your throat.

“i take too long,” you squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “there’s something wrong with me.”

a sob pierced your chest. “i think i’m broken.”

you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest, embarrassed as you soaked his shirt with tears, muffled the sharp noises of your throat against his solid body. he curled around you, hand rubbing down your back.

“who put those ideas in your pretty head?”

his voice was deceptively soft, though you heard the threat that lay under it, and you shivered.

“my ex boyfriend.”

his body went tense against you.

“look at me luvie.”

you lifted your head and let him kiss you, tasting salty and sweet from the slick of you still in his mouth, as he brushed away the tears on your face.

when he pulled back and you looked over the curves of his face, the depth of his dark eyes, you admitted to him softly, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

it was such a small whimper that you don’t think he would’ve heard you, but from the way his face crunched into a frown you knew that he had.

“m’not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing the hair from your forehead. “m’right here.”

you whimpered, pulling him back down for a kiss that was wet and hot, teeth knocking against yours when he pressed you further into the bed.

“lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, and you clutched at his arm wound tight around your waist, the other creeping up to cup your breast.

“please,” you whimpered, and he hummed into your lips.

“when’s the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, lips trailing down to your neck, his large hand edging down to brush over your pelvis.

“long time,” you squeaked, gasping when his hand snuck beneath your dress, rucking it up so it pooled around your waist.

“c-can’t do it myself,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut when his fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties. “doesn’t feel good.”

“yeah? bet your ex couldn’t make you feel good either,” he mumbled, either to you or yourself you couldn’t tell, mind dizzy and somewhere up high when his forefinger gently brushed over the shell of your clit. “bet your he didn’t even know how to touch a woman. how to make her cum.”

you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, and you could feel him smile against your neck.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll make you cum.”

his fingers circled your swollen clit, other hand fondling the sensitive plush of your tits. as you squirmed against his touch, little breathy noises leaving your lips, you could feel his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. you whimpered at the sheer size of it.

“please, Simon,” you gasped, clutching at his wrist as he played and flicked at your clit, speeding up then slowing down and dragging you through a slew of different body wracking sensations, leaving you so whiney and sensitive that your thighs started to shake and twitch.

your ex boyfriend had never given you so much attention like this—just honing in on his own pleasure, degrading you when you tried to chase your own. it became something you dreaded. something you didn’t want and forced yourself through, faking orgasms and artificial, pitched moans.

it was so different from Simon that you felt delirious, blissed out as real, loud whines broke through your throat, riding his hand just wanting more and more.

“more,” you sobbed, burying your face into the sheets, jolting when he played and pinched at your swollen nipples.

“want you to cum on my hand first, sweet thing,” he whispered, and you almost cried real tears.

he huffed a laugh into your ear.

“feel that good?” he cooed, and you nodded against the sheets, wiggling your hips in his hand.

“c-can’t,” you whined, shivering when he made a noise of disapproval.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty, licking over your ear. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby. i can play with this pretty cunt all night.”

you moaned, grinding down into his hand, eyes rolling back into your head as he abused your clit, crushing it beneath his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum on my hand, and then i’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, yeah? then you’re gonna cum on my fingers, and i’m gonna fuck two more orgasms out of you. how does that sound, sweet thing?”

“Simon—” you choked, whole body going still when you finally reached a sharp peak, shaking and twitching and moaning softly through your whole orgasm that made you see a blinding white.

he groaned in your ear, so filled with pleasure it sounded like he came alongside you.

“there you go, baby, good girl. so good f’me.”

your hearing felt muffled when you resurfaced, blinking your eyes open, sleepy and muscles lax against the bed. he was petting at your naval, peppering little kisses and kitten licks along your neck and shoulders.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, luvie,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver slither down your spine.

“mhmm,” was all you could get out, pliable as he slipped from your side and moved you to your back, tipping your knees open as he dove between your legs.

you looked down, watching him drink up the cum from your pussy, slurping loudly and sucking on your twitchy clit, your hips squirming in his hold.

“so sweet,” he practically growled, and you whined in response, trying to push his head away.

when he finally relented, he sat back, licking over his lips before tugging the shirt over his head. in the dim lighting, you could see scars littered over him, naval blessed with dark hair and a toned stomach that made your mouth water.

“think you can do that four more times, baby?”

when you shook your head, he only smirked, crawling back over you and pressing the crotch of his fatigues against your sopping pussy, grinding his painfully hard, big cock against your aching entrance.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty. “m’gonna make you, sweet thing. you’re gonna be coming on this cock all night long.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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Cave boy Danny gets kidnapped by the joker. He's missing for an hour and a half at most but when the bats find him, he's sitting unbound in a chair looking at the jokers corpse. Danny's face has a soft smile and when asked what happened Danny just says 'justice'

Later they find video of Danny while tied up reading the jokers mind for absolute filth leaving him cry and broken on the floor, and the the camera glitches out and cute for a few minutes then comes back on to the joker dead and Danny free.

Danny wants it to be known that he hadn't gone looking for trouble, no matter what Tim Drake says. He only meant to go to the mall and do regular teenage things with the ward of cash Bruce had handed him.

He hadn't been lying when he said the mall back home was small, and after a lap, it got really dull. It was more entertaining to go to Nasty Burger than to linger around the few shops selling the same thing.

Alfred had let it slip the last time he came around for Danny's clothes- the old man had thrown a fit when Danny attempted to do his own laundry, and then Danny threw a fit claiming he had to do some of the chores or he wouldn't live there, and they came to an agreement to do 50/50 of responsibilities- that the mall was one of Bruce's favorite places to be as a teenager.

He didn't fully outsay it, but Danny could tell Alfred was getting tired of him not venturing out. Alfred also seemed bothered by Danny's lack of motivation for anything- and probably feared that he was slowly falling into depression for being stuck here.

Granted, Danny did not allow them to see him do anything besides sleep, eat, and laze about- with a shower every night- he could see where his concern was coming from. Danny was most active at night when he left a duplicate- he could not make it move or speak since it was a new power, so it placed it in his bed to appear asleep- and rushed away for a few hours to work on his ship.

So Alfred not so casually told him of Gotham Mall, with its five floors containing five hundred and twenty stores. The Mall at Amity Park only has seventy-one stores.

Danny was dying to see it just to see a mall that big.

Then the Butler made the deal sweeter by suggesting Danny do his outing alone, without his Wayne bodyguards, and convinced Bruce to give him some pocket money.

Nine hundred! Bruce's idea of pocket money is nine hundred, which means Danny could have an excellent time shopping. So Danny took a shower, threw on a nice pair of jeans that hugged all the right places- according to Steph- a black T-shirt, and scurried down the stairs.

At the door, Bruce talks in low voices with his sons- Damian and Jason- but all three turned to him once he appeared.

Damian's regular haughty expression evaporated once he caught sight of Danny's shirt. His jaw slacked in surprise as he breathed, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? Alfred had it printed on a shirt for me." Danny gestures to the notable constellations floating in space's blue, green, and purple gasses.

Orion was the center of the work, being the only one with a figure shaped into a human with the stars that made him visible inside his body. The other constellations floating around him remained bright spots with no lines.

"I drew you that," Damian tells him as though Danny forgot where the image he passed along to Alfred had come from.

"Yeah, and I put it on a shirt 'cause it's awesome. I love it from the moment I saw it." Danny shrugs, watching with an amused grin as Damian's face flushes bright red.

The younger boy looks down at his feet, but not before Danny can spot the pure, unadulterated glee his words have caused in the kid.

"You have some taste, it seems." Damian mutters. Jason and Bruce are beaming, their eyes sparkling in a way that would belie their relationship is through adoption instead of blood.

"Most parents put their kid's drawings on the fridge instead of wearing them," Jason teases, and Danny shrugs.

"Most parents have talentless kids." He barely bites back the rest of his words. Damian isn't my kid because I am not Bruce, and he hurries to the doorway. "Anyway, I'm heading out. I'll be back by eleven,"

"You'll be back by nine." Bruce corrects, taking on the tone of a scolding parent. Danny is violently reminded of his own dad when Jazz is dating Johnny. He misses him. "Gotham is dangerous after dark. Alfred got us all to let you go alone, but that doesn't mean you can be reckless."

"Please, what's the worst that can happen?" Danny asked, practically skipping the stairs to the Uber Alfred called for him.

The worst that could have happened was that a stupid clown, calling himself Joker, had attacked the mall while Danny was browsing a gothic store.

He had been comparing two black dresses, trying to figure out which one Sam would prefer- and no, he was not blushing or feeling giggly thinking of her reaction. Just like he hadn't done the same when he picked up a personal electric planner for Tuck two floors down- when the Joker's goons had literally yanked him out of the store.

He only had a few minutes to blink in the bright light, as "Hot Topic" had been low light sightings for the store's ambiance, before he was thrown at the feet of a cackling man in purple.

His hands had been tied behind his back as they moved him, and Danny could only applause their quick hands. It's impressive for them to get it done with how much he thrashed.

Danny's first thought of the purple suit man was, "That's a ghost if I ever darn seen one," only to realize that his ghost sense had not gone off. The man just looked like that. How unfortunate.

"Well, well, if it isn't Brucie's newest charity case!" Joker shouted, yanking Danny's face up from his chin and leaning close to his face.

"Dude, personal space." He says, scrunching up his nose as the Joker's breath hits his nostrils. "Also, invest in some dental insurance."

"Oh, we have ourselves a jokester here, folks!" The clown's laugh did not hide the anger or shy away from madness. Danny suddenly felt he may have to tap into Phantom to get away from him.

This was a being that hurt others just because he could. Joker very existence was to simply harm others.

The very opposite of Phantom.

All of his instincts were screaming as Joker put his arm around Danny's shoulder and told the watching horrified crowd. "I'm a bit of a jokester myself. Why don't I give you private lessons and let these people judge whose death is funnier? Little Danny Kane or Bernad Dowd?"

The crowd parted, most gasping in horror as another teenage boy was dragged to the front. He was covered in wounds, bleeding a slow, sluggish mess, and his head bobbed as if though he was about to faint.

Danny's pupils shrunk, and his core raged as the boy was backhanded in front of him. Joker- the soon-to-be dead man- spread his arms, shouting for the whole world to be heard. "This is a special performance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. I hope you enjoy watching your boyfriend and adoptive brother partake in my game as a thank-you for your generous donation to the families of the last people I made laugh! I want everyone to know that any more donations to such families will have a similar show for their own loved ones!"

Danny's mind went white with a loud ringing, and somewhere far away, he was aware that Joker had them moved to a room to play his game.

He barely registered the camera being set up or tied to a chair surrounded by tortuous-looking items. He didn't even notice poor Bernard- already lost consciousness- tied to the chair beside him.

He only had eyes for the laughing man in purple.

But it was not Danny watching him, it was Phantom.

And Phantom was fresh out of mercy.

"No need for such an ugly frown," Joker chuckles, unaware of the ghost's core vibrating with the need to Protect what it recognizes a an attack on the Waynes.

An attack on his people.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Joker says, and- those are his last words.

Phantom pounces.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes an hour and a half for them to be found. It might have been more, but Danny had only counted for that amount. Bernad had been stabilized after he performed some emergency field first aid on him, trying his best to not look at the smear of bones and guts that used to be Joker.

Bruce breaks down the door with Tim rushing to his boyfriend in a frantic cry for his lover's name.

Danny steps back to let him have better access. He follows beside Bruce, watching Tim hold Bernad to his chest, breathing him in. He'll be fine. A few bruises and broken bones, but Bernad will leave.

"What happened?" Batman demands.

Danny looks up to stare at him right in the eyes despite the mask blocking his pupils. "Justice."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but the silence- for the first time since he found Danny in that cave- is heavy and weary.

Danny needs to hurry with his repairs. He thinks he is about to wear out his welcome at Wayne Manor. It's a pity he was just starting to like it there.

Master post link

#dcxdpdabbles #Cave boy #Part 6 #Offsecreen Murder #Danny just showed that he does have Bruce Wayne's volient reaction #Bernard Dowd #Damian was so excited about the shirt too #Danny was just minding his busniess

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running-with-kn1ves · 4 months

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Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up.

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin.

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him.

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder.

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule.

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now.

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed.

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet.

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you.

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out, or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed.

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?”

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

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buggybambi · 4 months

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gallagher next door | lip gallagher

lip learns an interesting fact about you and has to change it. ─ 1.43k ─ nsfw content, minors dni! (fem/afab!reader, 'angel', 'honey', other pet names used, oral - f recieving, unwrapped p in v, fingering, friends to lovers, no use of y/n)

Lip Gallagher’s throwing pebbles at your window, and it doesn't surprise you.

Lip had been your best friend for a few years now. He was the boy you went to for dating advice, you were the one he went to for his crazy family dramas and advice on what to do most of the time. You two were each other’s soulmate, as people joked.

Ever since you moved to Chicago nearly sixteen years ago and met Lip as the boy next door, you knew there was something unique about him. Something that drew you to him naturally.

He’d made a habit most recently of climbing into your window to talk. Late night thoughts, troubes. Anything and everything, all he had to do was throw small enough sized pebbles to get your attention and you’d sneak him in through the front door up to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it was happening again tonight. An oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts, you stuck your head out into the cold summer air. Finding Lip down below as you hum. “Whatcha doing, Gallagher?” You ask.

“Hey, there’s the prettiest girl. Do you look prettier then the last time I saw you?” He asks, head tilted up at you as your roll your eyes. “You saw me this morning, Lip.” You comment.

"Point stands, sweetness. You gonna make me stand here all night or do I get to come in?" He asks. You pause like you're contemplating it before you giggle, rushing downstairs and opening the front door. "Your parents home?" He questions as he hangs his coat up.

You shake your head. "Business conference." You answer as you walk upstairs with him. He plops himself down on your bed, grabbing one of your stuffed rabbits and playing with its ears. You sit beside him. "Have you eaten today?" It's always the first thing you ask him, knowing he can either get so busy and forget, or just forget to eat in general.

"Nah. Had oatmeal Fi made this morning, though. Wasn't very good." He answers as you frown. "Lip, that was like eight in the morning. It's almost.." you give a glance to the clock. ".. nine pm. Let me make you something. Mac and cheese?" You offer, remembering it's one of the boys favorites.

He lets out a soft groan. "That sounds better then head right now. You know me so well." He says as he sits up. You laugh nervously. "I wouldn't know but.. whatever you say." You comment.

He stares at you. "No one's ever gone down on you?" He asks, all seriousness in his voice. You roll your eyes. "Don't call it that, Lip. But to answer, no." You say with a shrug.

You frown as he continues to stare. "It's not a big deal." You mumble. He shakes his head. "No, no I just- I guess I assumed an ex would have offered or something at least."

"I don't know. One guy.. tried I guess.. but he wasn't very good and he stopped just like, a minute in cause I took too long." You answer.

"Okay.. angel, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"You trust me, right?" He takes a step. "Of course I do, Lip, more than anyone." He nods. "Next question.." He says.

"Would you let me taste you?" He's suddenly standing closer to you, just within arms reach.

Your eyes meet his instantly as you stare at him. "Lip-" You begin to speak but cut yourself off, shaking your head. "I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything, and I don't want this to change things between us."

"It won't. You trust me, don't you? I wanna do this." He says, pressing his forehead against yours. You stare at him before you exhale. "Okay." You agree, your voice soft.

It doesn't take long after that for his lips to be on yours, kissing you slowly. Your hands sit at your side before you think to move them, wrapping them around his neck. His find your waist, slowly beginning to move you toward the bed, letting you fall back first as you smile against his lips.

His hands explore new areas, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You let him do as he pleases, your hands gripping at fabric as he pulls away, beginning to kiss down your jaw.

“Lip.” You moan as he begins sucking on your neck. He only pulls away to remove your shirt, so he can have easier access to your chest. Kissing down your chest, hands on your thighs as you let out soft moans that he thinks are heavenly.

He then removes your shorts, removing his own shirt. Hands kneeding at the skin at your thighs, as he begins kissing down your stomach. You let out impatient whines as he smirks against the skin. “Patience, angel. Gotta take my time with you, y’know?” He whispers to himself as he finally reaches your wet cunt.

“So wet f’me, aren’t you?” He asks softly, the only sound filling the room was the fan blowing in the corner. You can't answer, anticipation stopping you as you just nod, staring at the ceiling. Staring at Lip as his nose bumps against your clit seems impossible.

He gently slides his tongue past your wet folds, your body wanting to arch at the sudden intrusion of his tongue in you. He holds your hips down, only moving away from placing kisses on your clit to gently insert a finger in you. "Taste so sweet, angel." He whispers.

Your mind is fogged, the only thought being one thing: Lip. Needing to feel him, you reach a hand down to run a hand on his hair. He grins, placing kisses on the inside of your thigh as he adds a second finger. He begins leaving a hickey on the inside of your thigh, as he arches his fingers.

He removes them, replacing them instead with his tongue. Eating you like a man starved. He can't stop, he tells himself that he cannot stop. Grinding into the mattress, the only thought plaguing his mind is you. How sweet you taste, how tight you feel. The way his jaw is soaked with you.

"Lip, I'm close." You moan softly, as he kneeds the skin on your thigh.

"Come for me, sweetheart." He requests, and you do so. Letting yourself fall apart for him, as you throw your head back.

He grins, as he pulls away. "I need to feel you, Lip, please." You beg, and he's already removing his pants and freeing himself from his boxers. "Okay, okay.. now, honey, I can grab a condom but-"

"No, please. I'm on the pill, we're safe." You confirm with a nod, as you stare at him. He laughs, as he kisses you again as he slides himself past your folds, giving a quiet warning before he inserts himself into you.

You let out a mix of a gasp and a moan, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to push him deeper. "Shit, angel." He mumbles as he does go a bit deeper in you, thrusting ever so slowly.

“Squeezing around me so tight, yeah? This - fuck - pussy was just made for me, wasn’t it?” He asks, knowing you’re too fucked out to respond with anything more then nods and moans.

“Good girl. Taking me so well, yeah?” He asks, a hand snaking through between your bodies, finding your clit and his fingers rubbing small circles on it. “Could stay here forever, y’know? Just live right here with you..”

You don't hear most of his incoherent rambles except for one more thing: a very soft "I love you."

"Lip, 'm close." You signal as you run a hand through his hair. He continues rubbing circles on your clit, as he buries his face in your neck. "Let go f'me, sweetness." He pleads softly.

You give in, your climax succeeding as you sigh into the mattress. He doesn't last long after that, spilling into you before pulling out swiftly.

Neither of you say anything until you remember what he mumbled. An I love you. "Did you mean it? When you.. you said you loved me?" You question. You're really asking if he meant as a friend or as more.

He looks over at you. "I've been in love with you since I met you, sweetness, of course I meant it.” He answers. You stare at him for a moment before you kiss him again.

Things definetly couldn’t be the same between you two.

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

shine on, shine on, my loves!

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my lip gallagher masterlist here for more fanfics!

- mae

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: shameless #lip gallagher thoughts #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x you #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fanfic #shameless thoughts #lip gallagher x fem reader

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oepionie · 1 year

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BELOVED BAT-WIFE. lilia vanrouge

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! Reader, Platonic! Sebek x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Lilia's wife makes an impromptu visit at NRC. Sebek is dragged into this mess and has to help her sneak into the campus.

A/N:: This is the first fic I've written in years!

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Maybe a bit OOC?, Reader is not Yuu and is said to be a mage

Word Count: 800+|💌Masterlist | Batwife masterlist

"Lady Vanrouge! When you told me you planned to visit, this wasn't what I had in mind!" Sebek hissed, staring at you through the gate's frame. He responded to your SMS asking him to meet you at the school gates as soon as possible. Despite the fact that it was two in the morning, he ran to your position right away. How he arrived in under 10 minutes is remarkable.

"I did say it was a last-minute decision." Shaking your head, you pulled the hood to your robe up and slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Indeed, you did send Sebek a letter to inform him of your plans beforehand. Leaving out the fact that you planned to sneak in like some petty thief.

"Now hold this gate steady for me, ok?"

Sebek's eyes practically sprang out of his head when you started climbing the tall gate. He yelled at you to be careful as he grasped the gate with both hands, firmly grasping the metal bars. You easily climbed to the top and laughed as you tossed yourself to the opposite side. Shrieking, Sebek ran to catch you, nearly toppling over from the force.

"Nice catch, my boy!" You grinned, patting his shoulder and setting yourself down. Sebek heaved, kneeling over and pressing a palm over his chest to calm his racing heart from the stunt you just pulled.

"You-Lady Vanrouge-!" Sebek started. "You're a mage! Why would you do that!"

"Teleporting or flying would definitely be easier…but that's boring~" You drawled, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Now, which way is that mirror again? It's been ages since I last set foot on this campus-literally!"

You linked both your arms together and began to pull the boy towards the academy, ignoring any and all of his complaints.

"I really think we shouldn't be doing this." Sebek muttered, begrudgingly pushing the doors to the mirror chamber open. You both slid inside, the door behind you closing with a snap.

It was already late at night, and the moon shone through the windows, its light reflecting off the mirrors. You took a step closer to Diasomnia's portal, tracing the engravings on its frame.

Had they changed parts of it? You noticed certain details that were not previously present.

"Well, too late to back off now. You're making me start to think you don't actually want me here." You pouted, shifting your gaze to Sebek's rigid body beside the doorway. He jumped and dashed over, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Of course I do, Lady Vanrouge! Your presence is always appreciated! I only wish you had chosen safer means to visit!" He yelled, his booming voice practically rattling the walls. Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair before patting his head.

"I jest. Now, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" You clasped Sebek's hand with your own and stepped into the mirror.

A blur of colours hit you for a moment before you found yourself whisked away to the dark brooding castle Diasomnia calls a dorm. Standing atop the cobblestone steps, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with smothering moisture, like a fog.

The dim light of a window in the distance drew your attention. Among the many windows in the castle, it was the only chamber that was lit up.

"O-Oh? Is someone still up at this late hour?" You wondered, still light-headed from the teleportation. Sebek placed a hand on your back to stabilise your wobbly form. "Ah yes. That's probably Master Lillia, he tends to hold gaming sessions at this hour."

"Is that so?" You huffed, brows furrowing as you glared at the window. "...That damn bat."

Of course, this wasn't news to you. Silver frequently wrote to you about his father's long gaming sessions, which sometimes lasted days or even weeks. Just as you were about to march up to the castle, an arm wrapped around your chest, pulling you back.

"No need to look so mad, dear." A deep voice lulled.

Behind you two, Lillia appeared with an impish smile on his face. Sebek flinched before greeting Lilia vigorously while maintaining a stiff posture of attention.

"Good evening, Sebek! Would you go and get Silver and Malleus for me? This is going to be a lovely reunion." Lillia spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was perched upon a nearby tree, hanging off one of the branches.

"Yes Sir!" With that, Sebek was off, dashing towards the castle.

With a frown etched onto your face, you turned your gaze back to the fae who was still upside down. Lillia hummed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. "Hello there, beastie."

"Still pulling the same old trick, I see." You grumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him down. Lillia smushed his cheek against your shoulder, peering up at you through his lashes.

"It's a classic of mine, isn't it?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #diasomnia #silver vanrouge

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growingfunwithaimain · 4 months

Text

Amidst the rainbow of sweets, Lily hesitated over a single candy. Its shell shimmered with a mysterious blue hue, calling to her like a siren's song. With a flick of her wrist, she snatched it off the shelf and brought it to her lips. The instant she bit down, her senses were assaulted by a burst of flavor.

But the surprise didn't end there. As she savored the delight, her skin began to transform. Starting from her fingertips, a wash of indigo washed over her limbs, spreading like ink through water. By the time she finished the last crumb, her entire being had been dyed a rich shade of midnight blue.

Yet, the crowd within the candy shop carried on as though nothing had changed. Their laughter echoed against the glass cases, their voices mere background noise to the surreal tableau unfolding before them.

Just when Lily thought things couldn’t get any more interesting, her hips decided to join the party. They began to widen, expanding like a balloon filled with joy. Soon, they were rounder than ever before, hugging her frame with a confidence that matched her newfound color scheme.

Meanwhile, her thighs grew thicker, like two ripe melons ready for plucking. The denim of her jeans clung to her legs, emphasizing every muscle and curve. Even the most stoic customer couldn’t resist the urge to ogle her backside.

In the midst of all this, Lily found herself reveling in her new form. She twirled around, watching the reactions of those who dared to look. Some turned away in shock, while others openly admired her figure. For Lily, it was a moment of pure euphoria, a celebration of her own beauty.

And so, she stood tall, proudly displaying her metamorphosis to anyone brave enough to catch a glimpse. After all, what better place to showcase one's newfound glory than inside a candy store?

With each passing minute, Lily grew taller, stretching towards the ceiling like a beanstalk reaching for the sky. Her abdominal muscles flexed beneath her skin, creating ripples that would make even the strongest gym rat jealous. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly expand anymore, her shirt gave out, exploding in a shower of confetti.

Beneath the rubble lay her bare bosom, nipples standing at attention like sentinels guarding her treasure trove. The sheer audacity of her outfit malfunction drew stares from every corner of the shop. But Lily wasn’t fazed—she knew exactly how powerful she looked.

Her gaze locked onto a young man who had been eyeing her since the beginning. He blushed furiously, his cheeks turning redder than the cherry lollipops he held. Without saying a word, Lily extended her hand, beckoning him closer. With a nod of consent, he approached, his steps hesitant yet eager.

Together, they left the candy store, arm in arm, heading toward whatever adventure awaited beyond its doors. As they walked down the street, Lily felt invincible, knowing that wherever they went, they would turn heads and start conversations. Because sometimes, the best kind of candy isn’t something you eat; it’s someone you can take home.

Another request for @realmofgoddesses! I think this has been my favorite request to work on so far! It was a lot of fun and took a long time to get it the way i wanted it but that's why im taking requests! to learn more and improve!

#breast expansion #expansion kink #breast growth #giant breasts #growth #ai art #ai girl #artificial intelligence #ai #giantess

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

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can we get more Fratbro!Darling interaction with creep!yan? it was amazing

They don't belong here.

Why did they even come.

The ice in their cup has melted from the heat of their skin, but the punch's still too strong to drink. With how shakey their hands are, they'd likely spill it if they tried. People are watching them now - probably wondering who let the freak in. They've been in this situation before. Invited to places because it'd be too awkward to invite everyone in the group but them while most of them pray they'll just stay home. Maybe they should have. The whispers are starting again and they're getting closer. Here it comes-

"Oh, hey! There you are! I've been looking for you since I heard you were here. You got a minute?"

Someone pulls them from the obscurity of the crowd - dragging them into the spotlight on wobbly legs. A strong arm holds them steady as the uncomfortable gaze of their peers swallows them, a gentle squeeze to their bicep negating their rising fears.

"This is the person I was telling you guys about - the one that drew that picture you saw on my lockscreen. I'm telling you, Mickey has crazy talent. I'm glad so we met at that gas station a few weeks back... Would you believe they live right across the street?"

It's pretty obvious that nobody really cares, but enthusiasm is an infectious disease. They do their best to answer half-hearted questions and try even harder to smile. It's hard to fake emotions when your attention is elsewhere. Mickey stares at you, arm still locked around their shoulder, like the beacon of light you are. How did you manage to be so different? When you first met they thought you were just another fake. Someone who pretended to be their friend for whatever benefit it gave. You cared. You tried to get them to be more social and showed up at their apartment when they'd be absent for days. You showed genuine interest in their quirky little hobbies and always laughed with them instead of at them. You even wore the crow skull necklace they made for you. It's like you were already dating.

Your grin falters as you look over at your friend, the clacking of their teeth and goosebumps on their skin catching your attention. "Hey, Mick... Everything okay? You're shaking."

Mickey hides their face in the collar of their jacket. "Yeah.... fine. Don't worry about me."

They jump as your palm touches their forehead.

"Nah, dude - you're like really sweaty. I'll walk you home in the morning, but you should lie down for now."

Mickey starts to protest, but as you weave through the crowd, heading for the stairs - their lips are sealed. They always forget you live with this meatheads despite standing beneath your bedroom window every night. Where you taking then to your room? They can feel stares on them even now, but they feel almost... jealous. Mickey likes that feeling. They squeeze your hand tighter - heart stopping as you approach the door with your name taped to it.

Opening the door just a crack, you make sure no one is inside before leading Mickey in. You take their cup as you guide them to the bed. Your bed. They giggle to themselves as you walk away with their cup, pouring its contents down the sink in the bathroom and filling it with fresh water from the tap. You really were the kindest person they've ever met on campus - like any good spouse would be.

"How much did they give you to drink?.... Just drink this water and relax. Remote's in the bottom drawer if you get bored. I'll be back to check on you in a bit. Don't worry about falling asleep I'll just sleep on the floor or the couch."

Mickey blushes as your fingers graze theirs as you past them the cup, and the image of the two of you cuddled up in your bed. They take a few tiny sips before setting the cup on the table.

"T... thank you... I wouldn't mind if you slept with me. It's your bed afterall."

"True, but I wouldn't want you to be comfortable. Relax, we'll talk about it more when I come check on you. Be back in a few!"

Mickey watches as the door closes behind you. They wait for your steps to fade down the stairs, finger on their zipper as they disappear. Mickey unzips and throws off their jacket like it was restricting their air flow. They drop it to the floor along with their shoes as they crawl beneath your blankets - planting their head face deep in your pillows and sheets. They smell just like the conditioner you use. Mickey makes a mental note to raid your bathroom, but there's so much they want to do in such little time.

Your dirty clothes. Your closest. Your dressers. So many places - so little time. What should they do? What should they do- Steal the fragrances you wear so their room always smells like you? Take your toothbrush or a water bottle you've drank from for their first indirect kiss? Steal a shirt or maybe even your underwear to.... now's not the time for that, Mickey - your window of opportunity is getting shorted with every breath.

Mind racing, Mickey decides the best thing to do now is to claim their new territory. Mark your room as theirs just as their entire apartment has been overtaken by pictures of you and the things you've thrown out. They fish through their jeans for their keys - picking the hidden knife discreetly disguised as a key. Having overprotective parents had its perks - such as items of self defense they'd otherwise be put on a list for buying themselves.

They climb out of bed, crouching to the floor. The gap beneath your bed has just enough room for them to wiggle into. Compared to lockers they'd been shoved into it was like a luxury apartment. They lay flat on their back, dragging themselves below the bedframe - knife in hand. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, their hands search for the boards supporting your mattress and drives their knife into the first place plank their nails catch on - drawing the curve of a heart into the wood. Light bleeds into the room as they complete the second arch and angle their blades for the first letter of their initials, followed by startled gasps and halted flirts at the odd sight of feet beneath your bed.

"Is this room already occupied?"

Mickey clutches their key ring tighter.

"This is our room...... IF YOU'RE NOT GONE IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS I WILL GOUGE YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT AND FEED THEM TO YOU!"

Mickey shrieks in laughter at the sound of slamming doors and footsteps racing down the hall. They've never raised their voice at anyone like that before. Love is a crazy drug. They carve their initials and yours beneath your bed, slithering from the opening and up onto your bed between the sheets for the best night of sleep they've had since they were young.

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #Creep Yan #Fratbro Reader #tw yandere #yandere drabble

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